The weeks after Kane's surgery felt like they dragged on, each day heavier than the last. Her recovery was supposed to be slow, the doctors warned, but they didn't expect what came next. Every time I visited her, I saw less of the familiar spark in her eyes. She would smile, but it didn't reach her gaze like it used to.
I tried to keep my promise. I visited her after school, even though every step felt like a betrayal of the time we used to have. Every day, she was there in that sterile room, her body tired and her spirit sometimes too.
But I couldn't let her see my worry.
Not when she needed me the most.
I knew she was scared. Kane would talk about the future, the things she wanted to do. But somewhere between those words and the way her breath would catch as she spoke, I started realizing how much time we had left wasn't certain.
And I feared it.
The hospital hallway felt colder now. Haru, Sayoko, and I would gather around her bed. We joked, we laughed, and I'd stay just a little longer each day. But in the quiet moments, when it was just Kane and me, I could see how much she was fighting.
She was losing.
The Day She Left
It was early morning when the call came.
I had spent the entire night sitting by Kane's bedside, not able to sleep, not wanting to leave her side. The pale light filtering through the window didn't seem like it should be there — it was supposed to be dark, it was supposed to be night for longer.
Her mother called to tell us that Kane had passed away in the early hours of the morning.
I don't remember how I made it to the hospital room. The world was muffled, like I was underwater. I couldn't breathe. The air seemed too thin.
But I was there.
And Kane was... gone.
I stood there at the foot of her bed. Haru and Sayoko were already there, but the pain was too much. I couldn't feel anything except the weight of every unspoken word.
I didn't know what to say.
The hospital room felt smaller now. The walls felt closer, the air thinner. Her absence was a presence in itself, something that would follow me forever.
Haru said something, but it was lost to me. I couldn't hear it.
And then I saw the note — the one Kane had written for me. It was folded neatly in her hand, and I almost didn't want to read it, but I had to.
It wasn't the first time she had left a note.
But this note felt different.
Yuki,
If you're reading this, it means I didn't make it. I hope that wherever you are, you're not angry with me for not fighting harder. But I want you to know something.
I never wanted to leave. Not you, not Sayoko, not Haru. I wanted to stay, I wanted to fight, to live, to see you all graduate, to get to college, to grow old.
But I guess that's not how things work out. I know you'll be okay. I always knew you would be. You've always been so strong, Yuki, and I... I loved you. In ways I didn't understand until I couldn't anymore.
I wish I had more time, but if it's any consolation, the time I had with you was more than I could have ever dreamed of.
Please, remember me. Not for the pain, not for the sadness, but for all the laughter, for the good times. I hope you find happiness and love in the future — and that you keep fighting for all the dreams you have, even without me there to cheer you on.
I love you.
I collapsed on the floor, tears I hadn't let myself cry now flooding my face. Sayoko and Haru came over to sit with me. We didn't say anything. Words didn't matter anymore.
Kane was gone, and I would never get to hear her laugh again, never feel her hand in mine.
But I would remember her.
I would carry her with me — all the way to the future we were supposed to share.