꧁ 𝕄𝕚𝕟'𝕤 ℙ.𝕆.𝕍. ꧂
5 years after the explosion
White lilies. Her favourite. They're the prettiest I could find. The seller asks something but I can't hear. I just pay more than required and leave before I can take the change. The world's a little greyer. Everyone around me is smiling, and it angers me. Now everyone can feel freely, and the new government is run by the citizens themselves. The system was destroyed. I walk through the expressive crowd, happy with their newfound world. They are free, free to feel, free to laugh and cry and scream and hug and be themselves. But all I can feel today is numbness. I don't know how my legs keep trudging, but it's tradition. I wouldn't miss today for the world. The 5th anniversary of the day where our Earth's independence was born. The people in other countries soon discovered of the takedown of the government, and rejoiced. The whole world felt connected that day, ten times brighter for them, ten thousand times darker for me.
The man at the gate stands up and waves to me but doesn't expect one back. He's used to seeing me now, every year he does. He irritates me a little less than other people. He seems to know that I don't come here for no reason. He knows that talking agitates me, I'm basically mute at this point. He knows that everyday it's painful to wake up, but that I do it for one reason and one reason only. Deep down, he must have gone through it too. His eyes carry the same pain as mine do. His heart aches like mine does. He shuts the gates behind me and sits back down on his wooden chair.
I walk through the field of stones and flowers, trees and cards. Names are carved everywhere. This is a ghost town full of ghosts. Unsaid words, regrets and hurt. It lingers in the air. I walk through the valley of all these things until I reach the now familiar cherry tree. A stone. She is represented by a stone. There wasn't even anything to bury. I sit down next to it and lay my hand on the soil. Maybe she's holding my hand now, maybe I don't know it, or maybe I'm a delusional, lovesick idiot, imagining things that could never be true. I unwrap the lilies and force myself to speak, "I got your favourite." My voice sounds cracked, unused. I clear my throat and start again, "Remember when I got you a paper lily from the market, years ago?" No answer. What did you expect? My voice cracks as I speak again, "I hate you." It's true. I hate her for doing what was right. She could have lived, and yet she had to be so valiant, so chivalrous, so righteous. Now the world thrives while I suffer. Will I live my life forever like this? "Probably," I sigh out loud.
I place down the lilies on the soil and stare at her name, engraved on the rock so delicately. I had requested that she be buried next to this tree, so when the petals fell, they spiralled down onto the dirt around her stone. This was the least I could do. And I hate it. We were supposed to live longer, laughing about how we saved the world long ago. Now I'm miserable and my life will never be the same again. "I wish I never helped you," I whisper in tears. I can almost hear her voice, "You don't mean that." Of course I don't. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. And yet why do I wish such horrible things? Grief makes us new people, bad and sometimes unrecognisable people. It made me cold. It made me unforgiving.
I stayed there for a couple of hours before I forced myself to get up. She wouldn't want me sulking around. I slowly walk down the pavement, and this time when the man waves a goodbye to me, I wave back and force a smile. It surprises him, but he smiles back and it makes my chest a little bit lighter. I walk in a little better spirits and I realise that maybe carrying all this guilt and resentment towards people in my heart is harming me more than I thought. Maybe Ada's right, maybe I need to forgive myself and others, and just live on. Move on. Soon, I'm at the Zenith. I need to forgive one more person. I subconsciously walk through the corridors and up the stairs and I knock at the office door. "Come in."
I walk in and see Edward typing at his computer. He had gone back to work at the Zenith a year ago. He looks surprised to see me, but happy as well, "Have a seat, Min." I sit down and start, "I came here to make amends with you." He looks up, surprised. "What?" "Ada, she didn't mean most of the things she said to you," It hurts to say her name out loud again, but it feels so much braver, so much better, "She still cared for you, and saw you as her father. She was just too scared to forgive you, in case it was an insult to your wife's memory." He lowers his head, smiling slightly, "I was to blame too. I said some pretty terrible things that I regret and I'm sorry for, but I never got to... apologise to her. She pushed me away." "She was scared, it's hard to think someone as brave as her was scared, but she was." He nods and I continue, "I may have thought you were a terrible father at first, but now I'm starting to learn that forgiveness is the first step to healing." "That's some great advice, sometimes we blame ourselves and others too easily for some things."
"So, Edward, I forgive you." He smiles, "That's good to hear." We sit in silence before he speaks again, "Do you think Ada forgives me as well?" My lip curls, "Of course she does." I stand up now, "Well, I have to get going back to the café, but it was nice talking to you, Edward." "You too, Min." I stand up, push in the chair I sat in and wave once more, then turn and open the door. As I am about to walk back out into the glass hallway, I turn around and say with a slight smile on my face, "By the ways, if you ever want to come by for a latte, please do. I recently learned how to make them."
Checkmate to you, Ada.
꧁ .・𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔼𝕟𝕕 ・. ꧂
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