I stared at Ariane, her face as pale as chalk, her blue eyes lost in a point I couldn't reach. The monitor showed a hesitant, fragile trace. The voices around me seemed muffled, as if I were underwater.

  A memory resurfaced, brutal: "I’ll be a doctor! So that no one will be sad!" A five-year-old boy proud, naive, with clean hands.

  Then a cry tore through the air. A new cry. A living cry.

  Hina.

  Mila rushed in, her movements precise, almost mechanical. The team busied themselves around Ariane, and slowly, very slowly, her heart rate climbed back up. She was still breathing.

  I collapsed onto a stool. A nurse placed Hina in my arms. My hands, still stained with the blood of the ER, trembled around that warm little body. The contrast lacerated me. I felt like I was holding the only pure thing I had left with hands that no longer deserved anything.

  I looked up at Ariane. She had opened her eyes, but they weren't on her daughter. They were fixed on the ceiling, as if something inside her had detached itself, flown away, left behind.

  I approached.

  "Look, Ariane… She’s here. She’s beautiful."

  She turned her head. Her lips trembled.

  "I'm sorry…" she whispered.

  I thought she was talking about the scare she had given me. I didn't understand. Not yet.

  In the following days, she seemed to be getting better. She laughed. She joked with Mila. She asked for news about my patients.

  "She’s pulling through," Mila whispered to me. "She’s stronger than we thought."

  I wanted to believe it. I needed to believe it. But her smile was too perfect. Too calm. Too… resolved.

  Night had long since fallen when I climbed the stairs to the apartment. Mila had called me at the end of my shift: "She wants to see you. She says she has something important to show you."

  I pushed the door open. The apartment was bathed in shadow, lit only by the orange glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains. I found her in her bedroom. She was sitting on the bed, back against the wall, Hina asleep in her arms. Her face was bathed in that soft light, and for the first time in a long while, she was truly smiling. Not the fortress-smile. Not the mask. A peaceful smile, almost luminous.

  "Shh," she whispered, placing a finger on her lips. "She just fell asleep."

  I sat on the chair near the window, without a sound. I watched her. She was looking at Hina. Her eyes traveled over the tiny face, the closed eyelids, the small clenched fists. She drank in every detail, as if she wanted to engrave them forever.

  "Do you want to hold her?" she suggested softly.

  I approached. She handed Hina to me with cautious movements, as one passes a treasure. The baby was warm, light, alive. I rocked her mechanically, the movement coming from somewhere deep, something instinctive.

  "You’re good at this," Ariane murmured.

  "I’m a doctor. I’ve been holding babies for twenty years."

  "No. It’s not the same. Right now, you’re holding her like... like someone who loves her."

  I didn't answer. I couldn't. Hina sighed in her sleep. A tiny sound, barely audible.

  "She’s dreaming," Ariane said. "What do you think she’s dreaming about?"

  "About you, probably. About your voice. About your beating heart."

  She smiled. Then, gently, she began to sing. Not a song I knew. An ancient melody simple, almost childlike. Her voice was fragile, a bit out of tune as always, but that was what made it beautiful. It was her voice. The one Hina had been hearing for months through the wall of the womb.

  I closed my eyes. The song spoke of the sea, I think. Or the wind. Or a mother waiting for someone’s return. The words were blurry perhaps invented, perhaps half-forgotten. But the melody was perfect. Hina didn't move. She listened, cradled by her mother's voice.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  As for me, I felt something tighten in my chest. Not sadness. Something both softer and harder at the same time. Gratitude. Fear. Love, perhaps. That word I didn't dare use.

  The song stopped.

  The silence that followed was different. Full. Inhabited.

  "My mother used to sing it to me," Ariane said in the darkness. "A very long time ago. Before she left."

  "It’s beautiful."

  "I don’t remember all the words. I make some up. She doesn’t mind."

  She pointed to Hina.

  "For her, only my voice matters."

  She looked at me.

  "Do you want me to teach it to you? For when I’m not here."

  I frowned.

  "Why wouldn't you be here?"

  "I’m just saying. For later. When you watch her, when you have to put her to sleep."

  Her tone was light, detached. But something in her eyes sent a chill down my spine.

  "Teach it to me," I said anyway.

  She repeated the melody. Slowly. I listened, memorizing it. A lullaby for Hina. A gift. When I left that night, the song spun in my head. I whistled it in the deserted street, under the streetlamps. I didn't know it was her last gift. The last one before the silence.

  The next day, something inside me tightened for no reason. I had just finished my shift. I should have gone home, slept. But my steps led me to the phone. I called her. Once. Twice. Ten times. Nothing.

  "She’s probably sleeping," Mila told me when I bumped into her in the hallway. "She’s been tired lately. Leave her be."

  I nodded. But as I left the hospital, I didn't head home. I almost ran to the apartment. The stairs felt endless. Every step was an effort. My heart beat too hard, too fast, for nothing. For a foolish intuition.

  The door was ajar. I stopped.

  "Ariane?"

  Silence answered me. Not an ordinary silence. A dense, thick silence that seemed to absorb all the light from the hallway. I pushed the door open. The living room was bathed in the light of the dusk. An orange light, soft, almost beautiful. Too beautiful.

  She was on the floor. Lying on her side, legs tucked in, as if asleep. Her blue hair formed a dark pool on the floorboards. Her face was turned toward the window, toward that light enveloping her. I froze on the threshold. I knew. I knew immediately. But I approached anyway. Because that’s what we do. Because as long as we haven't checked, we can still believe.

  I knelt beside her. I placed two fingers on her neck. Nothing. Her skin was already cold. Not frozen, no. Just cold. Like a thing that had ceased to be inhabited.

  "Ariane..."

  My breath broke. I said her name again, like a prayer. As if repeating it could bring her back. Nothing. I took her hand. The one that had folded the blue crane. The one that had stroked her stomach thousands of times. It was inert, heavy, a stranger.

  The world emptied. I heard nothing anymore. I felt nothing anymore. Only the cold of her skin against mine, and that void growing in my chest. Then, a whimper. Weak. Muffled. Coming from the closet.

  I crawled to the door. I opened it. Hina was there, nestled in blankets, protected from the world. Her tiny fists clenched, her eyes closed, her breathing peaceful. She was sleeping. She didn't know.

  I took her against me. Her warmth pierced me. And something gave way. I began to cry. Not quiet tears, not contained sobs. I cried as I hadn't cried since childhood. Gasps, shudders, my whole body shaking. I cried for Ariane. For Hina. For me. For this shitty world that took the most luminous ones and let the monsters live.

  I cried for a long time. When I finally calmed down, night had fallen. The orange light had given way to darkness. Hina was still sleeping against me, warm, alive. I held her tighter.

  "I swear to you," I whispered in the dark. "I swear that you will live. I swear that you will be happy. I swear that you will know who your mother was. The most luminous person I have ever known."

  My voice broke.

  "I swear I will love you for two."

  I stood up slowly, clutching Hina against my chest.

  "The little Tanashi died with you, Ariane," I murmured. "But I promise you... Hina will never know this sadness. Even if I have to face the entire world."

  I walked through the deserted street, carrying Ariane, her body wrapped in a white sheet that blood darkened in places. She was so light... and yet, every step felt like carrying an entire collapsing world. Against my shoulder, Hina breathed softly, her tiny warmth contrasting with the coldness already claiming Ariane's skin.

  That’s when I saw him, under the wan light of the last streetlamp. The man standing before me had my silhouette, my coat, my glasses. For a moment, I thought exhaustion was playing tricks on me. But no: he looked at me with an almost insolent tranquility.

  "You cannot go on like this," he said with my voice. "Not like this. Not with them."

  I stopped. The night cold bit my neck.

  "What do you want?" I breathed.

  He took a step closer.

  "I want to lighten your load. Give me your name, Tanashi. Your place at the hospital. Your routines, your files, your mechanical smiles. I will handle it. No one will know that Doctor Tanashi collapsed tonight."

  His gaze slid toward Hina.

  "And you... you can take care of her. Far from here. Far from the Heroes. Far from everything that could take her."

  I looked down at Ariane. Her face seemed at peace, as if the pain had finally left her. Then I looked at Hina tiny, fragile, alive. A thought crossed my mind, fleeting, almost shameful: I have no place in that world anymore.

  "...Alright," I finally whispered, not knowing if I had chosen survival or abandonment.

  I passed by him. He didn't move. Behind me, I heard the slight click of his glasses as he adjusted them. Tomorrow, "Tanashi" would be in the operating room at 8:00 AM. Maybe. Maybe not. It was no longer my business.

  I was going to bury Ariane in a place no one would find. And with her, something in me would be buried too not erased, no. Simply... placed outside the world.

  Tanashi moved forward in silence, Ariane against his shoulder and Hina nestled against his heart. His white coat of old was nothing but a scorched memory, and the heat devouring his body caused the rain to evaporate before it could even touch him.

  Hi everyone ! First of all, thank you so much for reading this far.

  I wanted to check in with you about this chapter the flashback with Tanashi. It's a bit different from the usual pace, and I'm aware it might feel like a shift in tone.

  I'd love to know what you think :

  - Did this chapter feel too slow or out of place ?- Does the change in genre (more emotional / tragic backstory) bother you, or do you enjoy getting deeper into the characters ?

  Be honest I'm here to learn and improve.

  Thanks again for being here, and I hope you'll stick around for what's coming next !