Fading Embrace: A Love Beyond Adversity

fate

Weeks passed, and one day, I stood by the window, breathing in the fresh air. I saw other patients outside exercising. "Today is a lively, positive, and beautiful day. Everything is so perfect. I'm going outside to exercise," I said, looking at my mom and smiling.

"You're so energetic today. What happened? Do you want something?" my mom asked.

"No, Mom, I just want to appreciate everything," I replied. "Actually, I want something. Can you buy me a new notebook because mine is already full?"

"Okay, your highness," my mom replied. So, I happily went outside to exercise. As the elevator suddenly stopped on the second floor, a boy entered. He was carrying a lot of painting supplies. He seemed to be around my age or older, maybe 18. He was a patient too, as we were both wearing the same plain patient uniform. So were both outside hes minding hes own business so do I. One day, as I was writing a poem while sitting on a bench, the wind suddenly grew stronger.There was a canvas that flew in front of me. I picked it up and saw a drawing of a girl sitting on a bench, writing something in a notebook. "Is this me?" I pondered, glancing around and noticing the boy from the elevator looking at me. He walked over and said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you; it was just the wind," reaching out as if to retrieve his canvas from me.

"No, it's okay. I understand. It's just the wind, haha," I reassured him, handing back the canvas. "Is that me?" I inquired.

It took him a while to respond. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again. I won't draw you without your permission," he said, bowing his head apologetically.

"So it really is me. It looks amazing. I've never encountered someone this skilled at drawing," I complimented him. He smiled and offered me his drawing. "To compensate for my mistake, if you want this, I will give it to you," he said.

"Really? Okay, I'll accept it. What made you draw me?" I asked.

"I saw you sitting on the bench alone, so passionate about what you're writing in your notebook. I just observed your world, your unique perspective of a lively yet sad world. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a weird guy. I just see the world differently, as if everything in this world has a purpose."I simply nodded at him and smiled. "Thank you for this, Akiyama. I am Leyna Akiyama. Nice to meet you," I introduced myself.

"Chiharu Akira. Nice to meet you too," he responded, and we shook hands.

And so, we continued with our respective activities. He painted, and I wrote.

Chiharu Akira’s POV

Chiharu Akira, 17 years old living a simple life with my mom. My dad left us, but he still supports us. We own a small market store. When I was a kid, my mom would always take me to the beach as her birthday present for me. As I draw, I sit beside my mom, and I think that at that moment, it was my most precious memory, I wish I could live in forever. I can't feel too much emotions; that's why I paint everything I see, everything I feel—there's a wealth of emotion in art. Since I was young, I didn't feel sadness or happiness because they could endanger me. When I was young I had a dog named Chihiro. Chihiro would keep me company at home when my mom was busy in the store. We would play until I grew tired and fell asleep. One day, I forgot to close the gate, and Chihiro ran outside, unaware of an approaching truck. I was sleeping when I heard a loud noise. Upon waking, I noticed the gate was open. I rushed outside and saw Chihiro lying in the road, covered in blood. I couldn't bear to look. My body felt numb as I walked towards Chihiro. I saw his face, his eyes wide open, a large c***k on his head. Seeing this, my body felt heavy, my heart raced, tears streamed down my face, my voice trembled, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I couldn't bring myself to approach Chihiro; and everything was all black and I fainted. When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the hospital room, with my mom and a doctor by my side. My mom embraced me, tears in her eyes, a palpable sadness lingering in her gaze. "Mom, what happened? Where's Chihiro?" I inquired. Mom remained silent as the doctor conducted his examination. Gripping my hand, my mom whispered, "Chihiro is in a better place now, my dear. He may not be here, but he's with his family, safe and at peace." Her words felt like a weight on my chest, squeezing my heart.

Feeling tears forming, a sudden beep from the machine interrupted us. I felt Overwhelmed and tired, I just wanted to sleep. The last thing I remember is the doctor giving me a shot before I fell asleep. After that incident , I never went back to school. Mom started homeschooling me, and I didn't mind since I never liked regular school anyway. "5 years later when the time was right, I was 15 years old when Mom explained why she home-schooled me.

'I'm telling you this now so you can understand everything,' she said. 'I couldn't explain it before because I was afraid you wouldn't understand and might do something that could put you in danger.'" I listened to Mom and understood everything she said.

I was diagnosed with an illness called Takotsubo cardiomyopathy. This condition can be triggered not only by negative emotions like grief or intense sadness but also by extreme happiness or joy, and it can be fatal. After I grasped everything, Since I understand everything and I can handle my situation I beg my mom to send to me regular school so mom decided to send me to a school. I was thrilled to meet teenagers like me. One year later, everything was fine. I enjoyed school and had friends, which made me realize that school isn't that bad. That was until something happened on my way home at around 5 p.m. I saw people on the side of the road, and I heard a child crying. As I got closer, I saw a child crying in front of a dead dog. Chills ran down my spine as I remembered everything that happened when my dog died. I felt all the emotions I experienced at the time of my dog's death, and hearing the child crying worsened my emotions. My heart started beating fast, my knees weakened, and I slowly sank to the ground. I called for help, and people looked at me, panicking. Someone said, "Are you okay?" "Call the ambulance!" "What happened?" I heard those words repeated before I closed my eyes. As I regained consciousness, I saw my mom holding my hand and crying. I opened my eyes and asked her, "Is everything alright, Mom?" She just cried and said, "Everything was fine, honey. We're just going to stay here for a while." "Why? I'm okay. I didn't feel anything," I inquired. "The doctor said you're going to undergo some tests because your illness has worsened, and we're staying here for good." Weeks passed, and I was still in the hospital. I felt bored, so I asked my mom to bring all my painting materials. One early morning, I decided to paint outside since it was a warm morning, and many patients were exercising outdoors. I gathered all my materials and entered the elevator. Inside, I saw this girl. "Is she going to exercise?" I murmured to myself. As we continued walking outside, I noticed an empty bench and decided to sit there. Glancing at the girl I had encountered in the elevator, it wasn't from a strange perspective, but I sensed something in her demeanor. She appeared so cheerful and animated, yet I could detect a hint of sadness in her. Every morning when I went out to paint, I often observed her. If she wasn't exercising, she would be seated at the bench, engrossed in writing in her notebook. I found myself thinking why she seemed so depressed while writing, Contrasting with her lively nature when I first saw her. Intrigued by her emotions surrounding her, so I decided to draw her. As I was almost finished drawing her, a strong gust of wind blew, and my canvas flew away. The canvas flew into her, and as I looked at her, she took my painting and gazed at it. As I looked at her, she looked at me, and I walked towards her to retrieve my canvas and apologize. But before I could speak, she asked, "Is this me?" I was at a loss for words, so I just bowed my head and said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb or draw you; it was just the wind." As I reached out my hand to take back my painting, she suddenly said, "No, it's okay. I understand. It's just the wind, haha." I was relieved she wasn't angry. And then she asked “ what made you drew me ? “ I then explained to her that I enjoy painting and see things differently, as if everything in this world has an emotion, mentioning how I noticed her passionate writing in her notebook. To make up for my mistake, I offered her the painting, and I was delighted when she accepted it. She introduced herself, and so did I; we shook hands. After that encounter, I returned to my bench, and we continued with our respective activities: she wrote, and I painted.