The morning after

The rain had stopped by the time morning arrived, but the heaviness in Haruto’s chest lingered like a storm that never quite passed. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow over the apartment as Haruto moved quietly through the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Yuki. His hands still trembled from the night before, but he pushed the feeling down, deep into the pit of his stomach where all his pain lived.

Yuki’s laughter echoed down the hallway, light and innocent. It was a sound that always managed to pull Haruto from the darkness, even if just for a moment. He glanced up from the counter and watched as Yuki sat at the small kitchen table, swinging his legs under the chair, his eyes bright as he talked to his stuffed rabbit.

“Papa, are we going to school today?” Yuki asked, his voice full of excitement. Haruto forced a smile, though his heart ached.

“Yeah, bud. Let’s get you ready, okay?” Haruto said, setting the plate of toast on the table before moving to Yuki’s side. He reached down to ruffle his son’s hair, his touch gentle, though his thoughts were a whirlwind.

Yuki didn’t know. He didn’t remember. How could he? Kaito had died the day Yuki was born. He had been too young to even hold onto a single memory. All Yuki had were the stories Haruto told him and the picture frame that sat on their living room shelf—the one with Kaito holding Yuki for the first and last time. Yuki didn’t ask about his father often, and Haruto wasn’t sure if he was grateful or if it hurt worse because of it.

“Papa?” Yuki tugged at his sleeve, snapping Haruto out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Was Daddy nice?” Yuki asked suddenly, his head tilting with childlike curiosity. Haruto’s breath caught in his throat.

The question stung. He had known it would come eventually, but it still hurt all the same. Kneeling down, Haruto looked into Yuki’s wide brown eyes—the same eyes Kaito had—and felt the familiar twist of grief. “He was the best, Yuki,” Haruto whispered softly. “He loved you so much.”

Yuki smiled brightly, but the innocence in his eyes broke Haruto’s heart a little more. Yuki would never know his father beyond the pictures, the stories, and the love that Haruto tried to keep alive in every word he spoke about Kaito. He had been born into love, but he would never feel the warmth of Kaito’s arms around him, the safety that Haruto had once known.

The memory of that day, the last day Kaito lived, surfaced like a tidal wave, pulling Haruto under once again.

---

The hospital room had been cold, sterile, and filled with the sharp scent of antiseptic. Kaito lay in the bed, his skin pale, eyes heavy-lidded but open, fighting to stay awake. Haruto sat beside him, holding his hand, their baby boy swaddled in his arms. Yuki had been so small, so fragile, but healthy—alive.

*Kaito had looked at Yuki for the first time, tears pooling in his tired eyes. “He’s perfect, Haru.” His voice had been weak, barely a whisper, but full of pride.*

Haruto had pressed Yuki gently into Kaito’s arms, helping him hold their son. The baby had squirmed, a tiny fist curling against Kaito’s chest. *“You did good, Haru,”* Kaito had murmured, his voice thick with emotion. *“I’m so proud of you... of us.”*

Haruto had swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. “He’s going to turn out just like you, I know it,” he had whispered, his own voice shaking with both joy and sorrow. *“Kind, strong, loving.”*

Kaito had smiled, his thumb brushing Yuki’s tiny cheek. “Nah, he’ll be better. You’ll make sure of that.” His breath had grown shallower, and Haruto could see the exhaustion overtaking him. But Kaito had smiled again, his lips curling faintly. *“What should we name him, Haru?”*

They had talked about names before, but never settled on anything. Haruto had laughed softly, his heart breaking even as he tried to hold onto the moment. “I don’t know. You pick. Just... nothing too weird.”

*“How about ‘Raindrop’? Fits the weather.” Kaito had chuckled weakly, his eyes twinkling with humor even as his body grew weaker.*

Haruto had rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe for a cat. Yuki. Let’s call him Yuki.” His voice had cracked then, the weight of everything crashing down around him. *“It’s perfect. He’ll be our little snowflake, Kaito.”*

Kaito had nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on their son. “Yuki. I love it... I love him...” His words had trailed off, his breath growing shallow. Haruto had leaned in, kissing Kaito’s forehead gently as tears slipped down his cheeks. He had known it was the last time. The last time Kaito would hold their son. The last time he would feel his warmth.

Kaito had closed his eyes, his hand still resting on Yuki’s tiny form. *“You’re going to be okay, Haru. You and Yuki... you’ll be okay.”*

Those had been his last words. Kaito passed a few hours later, and Haruto had been left alone with a newborn in his arms and a shattered heart in his chest.

---

Haruto blinked, pulling himself out of the memory as Yuki tugged at his hand again, bringing him back to the present. The kitchen was filled with the soft hum of the morning, the sunlight too bright for the sadness that still lingered in the corners of his mind.

Yuki would turn five in a few months. Five years since Kaito had died. Five years since Haruto had been forced to say goodbye to the love of his life.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed,” Haruto said quietly, standing up and forcing a smile onto his face. He couldn’t let Yuki see the pain, not this morning. He had to keep moving forward, even if it felt like he was dragging his heart through broken glass every day.

Yuki smiled up at him, his joy so innocent, so pure. “Okay, Papa!” he chirped, jumping down from the chair and running toward his room.

Haruto watched him go, his chest tightening as he glanced at the framed picture on the living room shelf. It was the only photo they had of Kaito and Yuki together—Kaito lying in the hospital bed, holding Yuki with the faintest smile on his face. Haruto had taken it just moments before Kaito lost consciousness for the last time.

“Happy birthday, Yuki,” Haruto whispered to himself, staring at the picture. The anniversary of Yuki’s birth and Kaito’s death was always a hard day, but today... today it hurt a little more.

As he turned away to help Yuki get ready for school, Haruto made a silent promise to Kaito—he would make sure Yuki had everything he needed, even if it broke him in the process.

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