My Mute Crush

Solace in Hiraeth

My gaze was following his every moment when someone reached out for me with a warm voice. "Child, why didn't you carry your umbrella?" the sentry asked. I turned around to look at the kind person, and he stepped in my space taking me under his umbrella. "It's just the start of the day. The rain will intensify soon." He informed me and unintentionally my gaze followed the person still walking with his umbrella.

"This child comes here every year on this date. Despite heavy rain, or light drizzling he spent hours sitting beside that nameless grave. The guy who buried that innocent child's body never returned. No one from his family came to meet that pure soul. But he came, every year." He said, and looking at the figure cleaning my parents Mushi my tear innocuously slithered down at the transpired piece of information. His quiet figure doing the work looks so lonely. Those strong arms, broad shoulders look too weak as if he is still mourning over something.

Does he know about him? About me? How? The endless saga of questions started arising in my mind and without giving it any further time to process things I stepped in his direction. After cleaning the graves, he lit incense for them and kept one of the bouquets he brought before moving towards the small grave beside them.

He gently caressed the grave while whispering something before taking the dry leaves off. At this moment I walked ahead to stand right behind him. Lighting up the incense he bowed, "Like every other year, I came to meet you again. Hope you're resting well." He said, and I sobbed audibly. Inserting the incense stick into the soil he turned his head. Looking at me, he smiled fondly, "You're here. I've been waiting for you at that flower shop." He said. And that gaze melted my heart all over again. After yesterday's unexpected encounter, I didn't hope to receive a warm welcome from him again. "I thought you wouldn't show up today." He added while reaching his unoccupied hand towards the flower bouquet resting on the ground. What was he talking about? How did he knew that I would visit today?

Whilst I was in the abyss of misperception, he again turned around to smile at me. The same smile that he gave me on our first meeting at his University. Seven years, and I still cannot forget a second spent with him. Perhaps coming back to China was a mistake as it brought back all the memories I had tried hard to forget. I don't want to fall for him again. I don't want to suffer again. I don't want to forgive the person who forced my child to rest here. I had taken that step for you, yet what did you do? I regret giving that instruction.

"Come here. sit." He said, patting the space beside him. He was still holding that black umbrella. I tentatively took a step forward and sat beside him. Perhaps my child wants his parents to visit together. Keeping the flower bouquet on the grave he said, "I wish I could build a Mushi for you. But I don't know who you're or what your name is." At this set of words, the emotion which I was holding back started brimming in my eyes. I bit my lower lip to not burst into tears. He doesn't know that he is his child.

"Bunny, did you know-" his words died down and his gaze soon changed from fondness to hard-heartedness. The earlier affection was soon replaced with an insensitive voice, "Why are you here?" the gaze by which he looked at me yesterday was back on his face. As if the earlier gaze of keenness wasn't directed towards me.

He didn't wait for an answer as he turned towards him, "I'll have to leave early today. I will come to visit you again. You have another visitor today." He said tenderly while patting lovingly on the flowers he kept. Getting on his feet, he kept the umbrella on the ground before turning on his heels to leave.

Behind him, I yelled miserably at the thought of him visiting here every year. He visited despite not knowing the reality. And what about me? I knew about him, I knew he was no more... he was alone here but I never dared to come and meet him once. I don't deserve to call myself a mother.