SCARS & PETALS

The next few days were a blur of emotions and arrangements. Kai stayed with Tsukiko through it all. He helped her make calls to relatives, arranged the funeral home, and made sure all the necessary paperwork was handled. 

Kai never left her side, always there to offer a comforting word or a steady hand whenever she felt like she was slipping.

The funeral was a small, intimate affair. Tsukiko hadn't wanted anything grand as her grandmother had lived a simple life, and she wanted the service to reflect that. 

Kai stood beside her the entire time, his presence quiet but reassuring. He didn't try to force her to talk about her feelings, didn't try to fill the silence with empty words. He just stayed close, offering silent support when she needed it most.

During the funeral, Tsukiko felt a heaviness in her chest, like an anchor weighing her down. But every time her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, Kai was there, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, grounding her in the moment. 

It wasn't until after the service, when everyone had left and the two of them were standing at her grandmother's grave, that Tsukiko finally spoke.

"I don't know how to keep going," she whispered, staring at the ground, her voice barely audible.

Kai didn't answer right away. He looked at her for a long moment before speaking softly. 

"You don't have to figure it all out right now, Tsukiko. You just take it one day at a time. And you're not alone, okay? I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Tsukiko swallowed hard, her throat tight. She didn't know how to respond. A part of her wanted to push him away, to deal with her grief on her own like she always did. But another part of her knew that she needed him.

And so, for the first time, Tsukiko didn't push him away. Instead, she nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you, Kai."

He smiled softly at her, his eyes filled with warmth. "Anytime, Tsukiko. I'm not going anywhere."

Over the next few weeks, Kai became her constant. He was there when the house felt too quiet, when the weight of her grief felt too heavy to bear. He didn't try to fix her, didn't tell her to move on or get over it. He simply stayed, helping her manage the small things, making sure she ate, walking with her through the painful paperwork, listening when she needed to talk.

And when the nights felt too long and the emptiness too vast, Kai was always just a phone call away.

Slowly, day by day, Tsukiko began to find her footing again. The pain didn't go away, but with Kai by her side, it became a little more bearable. He was her anchor, the one person who had been there when she needed him most.

And though Tsukiko had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone, she realized now that maybe, it was okay to lean on someone once in a while. Especially someone like Kai.

Eight months had passed since the day Tsukiko's life turned upside down. The day she lost her grandmother, her one and only anchor. 

The house she lived in was now a shrine of bittersweet memories. Everywhere she turned, she was met with echoes of her grandmother's presence: the faint scent of lavender from her old scarves, the worn-out recliner that sat untouched in the living room, and the quiet ticking of the clock that her grandmother used to wind every evening.

Graduation had come and gone, marking a new chapter in Tsukiko's life. 

Her achievement has earned her a prestigious scholarship to a university in Scotland, United Kingdom. The scholarship was more than an achievement, it was a spark that ignited her determination to fulfill her dream of becoming a scientist, carrying forward her grandmother's unwavering faith in her.

Yet, beneath the drive and accolades, the emptiness lingered. The solitude of her home became a constant reminder of all she had lost.

It was during this time that Kai became a part of her life in a way she hadn't anticipated. He had started with small gestures, dropping by with fresh groceries when he suspected she'd forgotten to shop, bringing her food when she worked late, and simply sitting with her in silence on days when words felt too heavy. 

His presence was steady and warm, like sunlight breaking through a storm.

At first, Tsukiko had resisted. She couldn't risk the vulnerability that came with opening her heart. But Kai had a way of slipping past her defenses. 

His relentless optimism, his easy laughter, and the gentle way he treated her slowly eroded the walls she had built around herself.

Their bond grew gradually, like a plant finding its roots in rocky soil. It wasn't a sudden spark, but a quiet, persistent kind of warmth. Kai never pressured her, never pushed too hard. Instead, he gave her the space she needed, letting her come to him in her own time.

And Tsukiko found herself drawn to him. She started looking forward to his visits, to the sound of his voice filling the silence of her house. She found herself smiling at his jokes, laughing at his clumsy attempts to cook for her, and feeling a strange sense of comfort whenever he was near.

It wasn't something she'd planned or even wanted at first, but little by little, Kai had become more than a friend. He had become her safe haven, her light in the darkness.