𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 . 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎

EPILOGUE

HER POINT OF VIEW

I stared at the blue peaceful sky, white clouds were painted on it and that's where the shy sun was hiding. The warm rays of the sun lightly touched my skin, I looked at the children who were playing with smiles plastered on their faces. 

A low-sad smile crept on my lips, I looked down. “Must be good, huh?” I murmured to myself, staring at them again. If I could only turn back the time. If I just listened to my parents. If I just didn’t let them influence me despite the good and the bad things they did to me.

I walked away from the park with books in my hand. I should probably return these to the library. 

After staying in Australia for almost five years, I returned to Japan. Five years were probably enough for me to find myself again. Long enough to finally give him an answer he has been waiting for. 

Arriving at the library didn’t take an hour. The librarian with her fleeked eyebrows from before narrowed her eyes towards the book in my hands. “You’re already done with those? Did you really read them?” Her tone was strict and cold. 

“I did read all of these,” I answered with a flat smile. “Here, I’ll be returning them. Thank you for your kindness.”

“I’m doing my job. What else can I do for you?”

“Oh yeah, uhm, I want to borrow more.”

She raised her eyebrow again, “Suit yourself.”

“Thanks.” I muttered in silence before walking to the shelves. Ever since I was young, I was already fond of books. Reading is like cleansing my mind from the toxicity and chaotic environment back then. I stopped and made bad decisions. Now that I’ve learned, I promise myself to read forever. 

I walked slowly to the alcoves. The design didn’t change that much even after five years and I’m glad it stayed like that.

The floor was marble white and half-covered with grand carpets designed with black and white floral patterns. The huge chandelier hanging on the ceiling made the lights warm-yellow that was absolutely pleasing to my eyes. On the walls, paintings of great writers such as Jane Austen, Fyodor Dostoevsky, William Shakespear, and many more looked majestic. The shelves were painted plain black and the colorful books that were neatly arranged on it made it stand out. 

My hand caressed the books, I actually couldn't choose what to read. But the urge to read was strong and ready, I chuckled at myself. Seeing many books in real life was overwhelming in a good way. 

“Are you looking for this?” A soft muttered familiar voice made my heart fall out of nowhere. Somewhere dark and between. I froze on my spot, wasn’t able to move until his shoulder touched mine — until I could finally see his face.

Again.

Same pink-delicate long hair. The scars on the both sides of his lips that only made me remember the first-time he cried on my shoulder. The way his ocean-like eyes focused on me, as if he was remembering my entire existence. 

My breath was caught in my throat when a smile plastered on his lips. I was looking at him like I saw a ghost from the past, like I saw the person I really want to avoid my whole life, and like I’m having an existential crisis.