obsessed over you

chapter 7

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The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the machines and the soft rustling of papers. Ethan sat at the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his lap, fingers trembling slightly as he glanced between Albert’s parents. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and years of unshed tears. Albert’s father, Adam, stood by the window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a permanent line of frustration. He refused to look at Ethan, his gaze fixed outside, as if the world beyond the hospital walls held answers that he couldn’t find within himself.

Albert’s mother, Mary, lay in the bed, fragile and pale, the years of grief and illness etched into her face. She wasn’t the strong, vibrant woman Ethan remembered from his youth. Now, she was a shadow of herself, her body weakened, but her spirit still shining through her eyes. She reached out slowly, her hand trembling, and Ethan immediately took it in his own, bringing it gently to his lips as a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Auntie,” Ethan whispered, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve been blaming myself all these years. If only I could bring back the past… I swear, I would change everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Albert’s mother closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh. She didn’t say anything for a long while, just letting the moment hang heavy between them, the weight of her grief and his guilt settling in the silence. Finally, she spoke, her voice shaky but resolute.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Albert was my own son. He was your best friend. We all loved him. But the tragedy five years ago… none of us wanted it to happen. I don’t blame you.”

Ethan looked up at her in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. “You don’t blame me?”

She gave him a soft, sad smile, her eyes reflecting years of pain. “I was just mad… mad at the recklessness that took my only son’s life. I was angry because I couldn’t protect him. You and Albert were like brothers, and I couldn’t protect either of you from the choices you made that day. I was mad at the world, and I took it out on you. But I don’t blame you, Ethan. I know you loved him, too.”

Ethan’s throat tightened, and his grip on her hand tightened in turn. He fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, his heart aching with the truth of her words.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible, as he brought her hand close to his lips, kissing it gently. “If only I could have done something, anything… to stop it. I was supposed to protect him, but I failed.”

Albert’s father, Adam, who had been silent this whole time, suddenly spoke, his voice bitter and filled with years of unhealed wounds. “Nobody can bring back the past,” he growled, his voice sharp and cold. “What’s done is done. You can’t change it, Ethan.”

Ethan’s eyes welled with tears, his heart shattering all over again as his mind replayed the moment of the accident—the moment he couldn’t stop, couldn’t change, even though he had tried.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know it’s too late, but I’ll never stop blaming myself. I can’t.”

Mary’s hand squeezed his, her touch warm and full of comfort despite her own pain. “Let it go, Ethan,” she said softly. “Let go of the guilt. We can’t change what happened, but we can move forward. We can’t keep carrying this weight. For Albert… for us… Let’s just pray for him, wherever he is. I’m sure he doesn’t want us fighting.”

Tears streamed down Ethan’s face as he looked at her, his heart cracking under the pressure of her words. He had lived with this burden for so long, but hearing her speak like this… hearing her offer him forgiveness—something he didn’t feel he deserved—tore at his soul.

Adam shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say anything. The silence that followed felt heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. Mary turned her head to her husband, her face softening despite the pain.

“Adam,” she said quietly, her voice full of tenderness. “You need to forgive him, too. Let go of your anger. We’ve all lost enough. We all need forgiveness to make it through. If we don’t forgive, we’ll never find peace.”

Adam’s eyes flashed with emotion, but he said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Mary turned her gaze back to Ethan, her eyes filled with love despite the tragedy they had endured. “We all need forgiveness, Ethan,” she whispered. “And it’s not too late. You have time to find peace… even if I don’t.”

Ethan’s heart stopped. His breath hitched as he realized what she meant.

“Auntie…” he began, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t say that. You’ll be fine. You will. Don’t talk like that.”

But Mary’s expression was calm, almost resigned. “I know my time is short. I’ve made peace with that. I just want you to know that I forgive you… and I hope you can forgive yourself.”

The tears fell freely now, and Ethan broke down, his sobs shaking his entire body. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” he cried, his voice raw with pain as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her hand, unable to hold himself together any longer.

Mary reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle, loving. “You don’t have to apologize anymore, Ethan,” she whispered softly. “Let it go. It’s time to forgive… for your sake… for Albert’s.”

Ethan sobbed, his body shaking, as he held onto her, his chest tight with the weight of everything he had carried for so long.

It wasn’t just Albert he was grieving anymore. It was the years of guilt, the weight of the past, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could finally be free of it.

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Ethan sat there for a long while, the weight of his thoughts pressing on his chest as he stared out at the hospital room’s dull walls. He had just received a small piece of peace from Albert’s mother, and yet, his soul felt restless, as if there was still something unresolved inside of him.

He stood up slowly, his body aching from sitting still for so long, and he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was next. As he turned to leave, Albert's mother gave him a soft, knowing look, her eyes filled with both sorrow and acceptance.

“Take care of yourself, Ethan,” she said quietly, her voice soft like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Ethan gave a small nod, feeling the weight of her words sink deep within him. "I will," he replied, trying to muster a smile. He walked over to her side, leaned down, and pulled her into a gentle hug. "Get well soon, Auntie," he whispered, his heart heavy with everything that had been said. She squeezed him back, her frail arms hugging him with all the strength she had left.

With one last lingering look, Ethan turned and left the hospital, stepping into the cold night air. He felt the cool breeze wash over him, but his mind was far away. It wasn’t until he was driving in his car, heading toward the cemetery, that his thoughts began to settle, allowing him a little space to breathe. The grief that had burdened him for so long still gnawed at him, but he had made the decision to move forward. It was time.

When he arrived at the cemetery, he parked the car, stepping out and walking toward the familiar gravesite. The heavy weight in his chest seemed to lighten as he approached Albert’s grave, the memories of their childhood flooding back. He sat down on the soft grass in front of the stone, his fingers tracing the outline of the name etched into it.

“Hey, Albert,” Ethan muttered softly, his voice barely a whisper as he stared at the stars above. “I know it’s been a while. A long time, actually. I didn’t want to let go, but I think it’s finally time for me to stop holding onto this guilt.” He paused for a moment, looking up at the sky, seeing the faint constellations twinkling in the distance. “I’m glad I spoke to your mom today. She forgave me. I didn’t think she would, but she did. It feels like a weight has lifted off me. I know she doesn’t have much time left, and I’m trying to make peace with that… trying to make peace with everything. I don’t blame your dad anymore. I don’t blame anyone anymore, Albert.”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath. “If I were in his shoes, I’d have reacted the same way. Hell, I would’ve done worse. But I don’t want to hold onto this anger anymore. It’s time to move on.” His voice faltered slightly as he spoke, the emotions rising up again. He wiped at his face, trying to hold himself together, but it was hard. “I’ll try. I’ll try to let go, to stop blaming myself for what happened.”

For a moment, there was silence—just the soft rustling of the wind and the faint hum of the world outside. Then, something shifted inside him, and his thoughts suddenly turned to Kira. Without thinking, he stood up and walked a few feet down the path to another gravestone.

He saw her father’s name etched on the stone, along with the date of death that still felt too recent, a reminder that Kira was still grieving the loss of the one person she had loved with all her heart. He stood there, staring at the grave, his thoughts racing. He remembered the way Kira had sat there, crying, when he had first seen her at the cemetery. The pain she had felt was so raw, so real.

Ethan realized, in that moment, that it wasn’t just Albert’s death that had affected him. It was all of them—the people close to you, the ones you love. They are the ones who leave the deepest scars. And now, here he was, standing in front of another grave, and everything felt even more intense, like the weight of the world had suddenly come down on him.

The cemetery, full of so many graves, felt different now. It wasn’t the same as before. Because this grave—this one—hurt him. He didn’t know any of the other names in the ground, but he knew Kira’s father, and that was enough to feel it.

Just as he was lost in thought, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Kira, walking toward him with slow, measured steps. Her eyes were downcast as she approached her father’s grave, her expression soft but distant.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing in front of my father’s grave?”

Ethan hesitated, a brief moment of panic rising in him. He wasn’t sure how to explain himself, how to tell her that he had come here to seek peace for himself, but instead had found her father’s grave and realized how much pain everyone felt when they lost someone they loved. “Oh, I was just passing by,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I came to see my friend.”

Kira gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. She didn’t ask any more questions, instead kneeling down in front of the grave and carefully placing a bouquet of flowers at its base. She lit a small candle, the flickering flame adding an eerie light to the stillness of the cemetery. She spoke softly to her father, her words quiet and personal.

Ethan stood off to the side, watching her, unsure of whether he should interrupt her or just remain silent. After a few moments, Kira stood up, dusting off her hands. She turned to leave, but then Ethan called out to her.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I’m feeling?” he asked, his voice slightly teasing, though there was a heaviness to it.

Kira glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving into a small, almost unreadable smile. “You look fine to me,” she replied, her tone light and indifferent.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, taking a few steps toward her. “You should have asked, at least.”

Kira gave him a puzzled look, her brow furrowing slightly. “Excuse me? Are you still blaming me?”

Ethan smirked, shaking his head. “Well, no. Not after you cleaned my kitchen. We’re even now. 60-50.”

Kira looked at him, her gaze sharp, but there was something soft in her eyes too. “Alright, Ethan. Whatever you say.”

She turned, taking one last look at her father’s grave, and then walked away, leaving Ethan standing there,