Asha's heart beat in uneven rhythms as she walked toward the clearing. The heavy fog hung in the air, dampening her steps, muffling the world around her. The land felt suffocating, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And it would.
The notice's words echoed in her mind: "One person from every household. No names. No exemptions." There was no choice, no negotiation, no turning back. She had signed without hesitation, sealing her fate.
Her hands gripped the fabric of her dull robe, the only thing she could cling to as the wind tugged at her hair and the ground grew more uneven beneath her feet. She had always relied on him, leaned on his strength. But now… the roles were reversed. Now she would be the one carrying the weight, shielding him as best she could, even if it meant leaving him behind.
Asha's Memory — The Argument Yesterday
Her mind flickered back to yesterday. She had been packing quietly when he appeared at the doorway, weak but insisting on speaking.
"You don't love me,?" he said suddenly, eyes searching hers, vulnerable and raw.
"I… I don't love you," she shot back, sharper than she intended. "Not like that! I can't— I can't feel what you think I do!"
He recoiled, as if struck. "What… what are you saying?"
"I'm saying… I care for you, yes! I always will. But love? No! Not like that. Not the way you want me to." Her hands shook, gripping the cloth tighter, trying to hold onto something solid in the chaos of their lives.
"You don't? After everything?" His voice cracked, disbelief and hurt threading every word.
"I'm not lying! I… I can't promise that. I can't give you what you're asking for. I've never been able to."
He sat back, chest heaving, tears pooling in his eyes. "So… everything we've shared— all this time… it means nothing to you?"
"It means more than anything," she whispered, voice trembling, "but not the way you think. I've never felt… that way. I'm sorry."
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. He stared at her, heart breaking, and she wanted to reach out, to soften her words—but she couldn't. Not yet.
"I don't understand," he said finally, voice barely audible. "I thought… I thought you loved me."
"I care for you," she repeated, quieter now, almost to herself. "I care more than I can say. But love? Not like you imagine. Not yet. Maybe never."
"Tell me it's not true," he had begged, his voice trembling, the faintest quiver of hope still lingering in the words.
"I can't," she had choked out, her heart shattering as she spoke. "I can't lie to you… I wish I could. I wish I could say anything to make this easier, but I can't."
He looked away, the anguish clear in every line of his face. She wanted to fix it, to explain, to make him understand—but some things couldn't be explained. Not tonight.
She stepped past him, gathering her bag and coat, the weight of her decision pressing down. Silently, she left the house, leaving behind the room, the memories.
He had always been her anchor — the one she could never live without. But now, it was her who had to leave, and no matter how much it tore at her soul, she had no choice.
(He could not go—not with his cough, not with the feeble strength he had. The engagement, their bond, didn't change the rule. She alone could fulfill it, and she alone could endure.)
Back in the present, the fog clung to her like a shroud
Each step toward the clearing was a reminder of what she had to do — the choice she could not undo. Her heart ached for him, for herself, for the life they would never have. But she had made her decision. Now, she would be the one protecting him