The cab slowed to a stop.
For a moment, I didn't move.
I just stared out the window.
People.
So many people.
Dressed in black.
Standing in small clusters, whispering, shifting, existing—like the world hadn't shattered weeks ago.
Like nothing had changed.
"Amary," Uncle Chris said softly.
I blinked.
Right.
The funeral.
My hand hovered over the door handle, but it felt… heavy. Like opening it meant accepting everything I'd been trying not to think about.
Sanchi was really gone.
"Take your time," he added.
I swallowed and pushed the door open.
The air hit me first—cold, dry, unfamiliar. It didn't smell like my room. It didn't feel safe.
I stepped out slowly.
My shoes touched the ground like I was learning how to walk again.
Uncle Chris came around the car and rested a hand lightly on my shoulder.
"You okay?"
No.
"Yeah," I lied.
My eyes drifted ahead, scanning the area slowly.
Rows of chairs.
Three caskets.
Flowers—too many flowers.
And people.
Watching.
Or maybe I just felt like they were.
I tightened my grip on the edge of my sleeve.
"You don't have to stay long," Uncle Chris said. "We can leave anytime."
I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn't.
I couldn't.
Not after everything.
We started walking.
Each step felt louder than it should've been, like the ground was announcing my arrival.
She's here.
The girl who lived.
The girl who saw it.
The girl who couldn't save him.
My chest tightened.
Stop.
Don't think about it.
But my mind didn't listen.
It never did.
My gaze moved across the crowd again—faces blending into each other—until it stopped.
Then—
I saw him.
He had scruffy black hair and stood near the front, dressed in black.
He turned slightly, and our eyes met.
My breath caught.
He had the same look—the same dark, empty eyes that complemented his smooth skin. Even the same confused expression.
The only difference… was the rounded glasses he wore.
It was him.
It was Sanchi.
Emotions flooded my chest, overwhelming me all at once.
Sanchi stood right in front of me. In the flesh. He wasn't gone.
Maybe it was a prank.
Maybe I was going crazy.
I almost cried out—
"Sanch—"
I stopped abruptly when I heard another boy call out to him.
"Shenji! How've you been!"
Shenji.
The name hit me like cold water.
I hated myself for almost forgetting.
This wasn't Sanchi.
It was his twin brother.
Uncle Chris's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder.
"You okay, dear?"
I took a deep breath and forced the fakest smile I could manage.
"I'm fine, Uncle. Let's take our seats."
We moved to sit down.
Time blurred after that.
The session was filled with stories about Mr. and Mrs. Teru—their excellent culinary skills, their kindness, and the warmth of being around them.
I clapped along with everyone when I needed to, though my attention kept drifting.
Back to Shenji.
Soon, he was called up to give his speech.
He stood up nervously and walked to the front, holding a notebook.
"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Shenji Teru. I'm the second-born of the family. Sanchi came out before me."
He let out a small, nervous laugh.
"I'm here to talk about my twin brother, Sanchi, since many have already shared a lot about my parents."
He paused and took a breath.
"Sanchi was always gentle, kind, and protective of me. He never let bullies touch me when we were kids. He was strong—inside and out—and I keep asking myself why I didn't realize that earlier."
He swallowed.
"There was this one time we had a major fight… which I don't feel like sharing the details about. I was so angry that I demanded to be sent away to another elementary school—a boarding one—so I could stay away from him."
His grip tightened around the notebook.
"Then, after elementary school, I left home to study in Japan right when my parents had began to strugglr financially. Sanchi tried to reach out… but I was a fool. I ignored him."
He exhaled shakily.
"We only spoke once—my friend forced me to. Sanchi apologized and started telling me about his middle school life… about how he'd fallen in love with this girl."
He looked at me straight in the eye and quickly glanced somewhere else.
"I was just happy he was having a cool middle school life. He was one of the reasons I wanted to come back to New York after middle school. To make up. To speak with him"
Shenji paused, his fingers tightening around the edges of his notebook.
"I thought… I thought I had time."
A faint, hollow laugh escaped him.
"But I guess time doesn't really wait for anyone."
He looked up briefly, scanning the crowd, though his eyes didn't seem to focus on anyone in particular.
"Sanchi wasn't just my brother. He was… the better part of me. The part that knew how to care. The part that knew how to stay."
His voice faltered slightly, but he steadied himself.
"I used to think I was the smarter one. The one who made the right choices. But standing here now… I realize I was just running away."
A quiet murmur passed through the crowd, but Shenji didn't react.
"He stayed. Even when things got hard when my parents ran at losses. Even when I left. He stayed."
He swallowed, his gaze lowering to the notebook, though he no longer seemed to be reading from it.
"And for that… I'm grateful."
A pause.
"I just wish I'd told him that sooner."
He closed the notebook gently.
"Thank you."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then, slowly, applause filled the air—soft, respectful, restrained.
I didn't clap.
I couldn't.
My hands rested stiffly in my lap as my eyes drifted past Shenji… past the crowd…
To the casket.
My chest tightened, but this time, I didn't let it take over.
Not here. Not now.
I stood up.
Uncle Chris glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes, but I didn't answer. I just gave him a small nod before stepping into the aisle.
Each step felt deliberate.
Controlled.
Like I was holding myself together with something fragile.
People shifted slightly to make space as I passed, their whispers brushing against me, but none of it reached.
All I could see… was that box.
I stopped in front of it.
For a moment, I just stood there.
Then I reached out.
My fingers rested lightly against the polished surface.
Cold.
But not unbearable.
I let out a slow breath.
"You always did things your way," I murmured quietly.
No response.
Of course not.
My lips pressed into a thin line, but I didn't break.
Not like before.
"You said…" I continued, my voice steady, though softer now,
"…we were going to run the world together."
A faint exhale left me.
"Guess you ran ahead."
Silence.
But this time, it didn't crush me.
It just… stayed.
I closed my eyes briefly, letting the memories come—but not overwhelm me.
The laughter.
The cake.
The music room.
That stupid, awkward kiss.
A small, almost invisible smile touched my lips.
Then it faded.
"I'll catch up," I said quietly. "Just… not today."
My hand slipped away from the casket.
I turned, slower this time, more aware of the world around me.
The chairs.
The people.
Shenji.
Our eyes met for a brief second as he spoke with another boy. It was now obvious he knew who I was.
Something passed between us—something unspoken.
Understanding.
Or maybe just the same kind of loss.
I walked back to my seat and sat down beside Uncle Chris.
He didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
And for once…
The silence didn't feel empty.