CHAPTER 163: THE MAN MY SOUL RECOGNIZED

[Renji’s POV—Eight Months Later]

Eight months.

Eight months since I woke in my world—this too-bright, too-small world without Alvar.

Eight months since the hospital discharged me. Eight months since I cut ties with the woman who only remembered me once I was useful.

Eight months... And I still haven’t moved on from him.

From Alvar.

His name still sits under my tongue like a ghost. His voice still echoes in the back of my skull—warm, broken, calling my name. His touch still burns faintly on my skin when I close my eyes at night.

I’m alive here. But some part of me—the part that mattered—never made it back.

My hospital bills swallowed everything I had. Savings—gone. Job—lost. Apartment—evicted. Resume—stamped with "one-year coma," which was apparently enough to make every company in this city run the other way.

So now?

I work part-time... in a coffee shop.

A small, warm-smelling place at the corner of a station street. Wooden counters. Plants everywhere. Soft jazz is playing.

A place where no one knows me. A place where I can pretend—just for a few hours—that my chest isn’t hollow.

"One Americano and a chocolate cake, please..." A customer’s voice jolted me from my thoughts.

I straightened, forcing a smile—one that didn’t reach my eyes. "Sure," I said softly, tapping into the register, "One Americano, one slice of chocolate cake. Please take a seat—I’ll bring it to you shortly."

My voice sounded normal. Human. Alive.

But inside...a part of me was still kneeling on a battlefield of a world that no longer belonged to me.

The machines hissed. Coffee dripped. Customers chatted.

Normal life.

Something I should have wanted. Something I should have been grateful for.

And then—

TRICKLE... trickle... trickle...

...Huh?

I blinked, looking around.

Coffee wasn’t dripping from my machine. It was coming from the counter behind me. I turned—and found Mika Aoyama, my co-worker, frozen in place with a glass pot tilted in her hands.

The cup below it was already full. Overflowing. Coffee spilled around the edges in a widening puddle.

"Mika?" I called softly.

She didn’t react.

Her eyes weren’t on the cup. Or on the counter. Or even on the customers. She was staring ahead—completely still—as if something had stolen her breath.

"Hey... Mika," I said again, stepping closer. "The cup’s full."

Still nothing.

Her fingers shook—just barely—but enough for me to notice.

"Mika." This time, firmer.

She blinked—once—slowly—like someone rebooting after a full system crash. Then her gaze snapped down to the overflowing cup.

"Ah—AHHH—RENJI, what do I DO?!"

She scrambled to shut the machine off, hands flailing like a panicked octopus, nearly knocking the entire pot to the floor.

Coffee splashed onto her wrist.

"Ah—!! Hot—hot—HOT!"

I sighed, grabbing a handful of ice, wrapping it in a cloth, and pressing it gently to her wrist. "Mika... gosh. What is wrong with you today?"

She hissed, puffing out her cheeks—and then her lower lip trembled.

"I... I... BROKE UP!!!!"

Heads turned. Customers glanced over. Some regular customer whispered, "Again...?"

I stared at her blankly.

"Again?"

She nodded violently, sniffling like a five-year-old whose balloon popped. I exhaled through my nose, trying not to laugh, trying not to cry—both strangely possible these days.

"Mika, why don’t you take leave for today? I’ll manage here."

She froze mid-sniff. "R-Really?"

"Yes. Go. Before you break something else."

Her eyes welled dramatically. Then—without warning—she threw her arms around me.

"OH MY GOD, RENJI, YOU’RE AN ANGEL. A TRUE MIRACLE. A SAINT. A—"

"Yes, yes," I muttered into her hair. "Please go before another machine explodes."

She sniffled, nodded vigorously, grabbed her bag, and practically skidded across the floor toward the exit like a cartoon character on a mission.

As soon as the door shut behind her, I stared at the mess on the floor.

"Gosh... what a disaster," I mumbled under my breath, kneeling to clean it.

The mop’s weight was grounding. The smell of coffee was comforting. The routine was familiar.

But my chest...that stayed hollow.

Mika was the only friend left who had managed to survive the drift of my life. We’d known each other barely five months, but she’d weaseled herself into my days with breakup rants, overly dramatic gestures, and a habit of crying over burnt toast.

She was chaotic and sweet.

And she patched the silence in my life more than she realized. But even with her chatter filling the air, even with her friendly warmth... I still felt empty.

Because...she couldn’t fill the empty space.

***

[Night—City Streets]

The winter wind nipped at my ears as I stepped out of the café, tugging my thin coat tighter around myself.

The streets were loud tonight.

Buses sighing to a stop, people laughing under glowing street lamps, children jumping around with sparkler toys. Strings of lights wrapped around every tree. Shop windows glowed warm and golden. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air like pieces of a quiet dream.

Christmas season.

The entire city felt alive—bright, bustling, warm.

A place filled with joy.

"Haaah..." I exhaled, breath puffing white in the cold. "Should I... take a taxi?"

I stopped at the curb, watching taxis roll by—bright meters flashing, comfortable-looking seats waiting for anyone who had the money for warmth.

"I really shouldn’t," I mumbled, patting my pocket.

Coins. Loose change. Barely enough for a cheap meal tomorrow. Definitely not enough for a taxi across the city.

So... I walked.

My boots crunched quietly against the thin snow layering the sidewalks. A couple passed me holding hands, laughing softly. A group of friends took photos near a giant light-up reindeer. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon from a street vendor nearby.

Everything around me was glowing.

But inside me—nothing glowed.

Nothing sparkled.

Nothing celebrated.

I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets, head lowered as crowds moved around me like I didn’t exist.

"...Christmas, huh."

It used to be my favorite season. Now it felt like the world was dressed in happiness I couldn’t reach anymore. A little girl ran past me, giggling with a glowing wand, and I heard her voice echo:

"Our wish comes true!"

I crossed the street, through the glowing winter city—the signal turned red. People moved forward. And so did I—head down, lost in my thoughts—until—BUMP.

I jolted back a step. "Oh—I’m sorry! Are you—"

My voice died.

My breath died.

My world stopped.

Under the glowing arch of Christmas lights, under falling snowflakes that looked like drifting stars... He stood there.

Tall.Broad-shouldered.Black hair.Blue eyes.

Eyes I had memorized in another world. Eyes that had looked at me like I was his entire sky.

My lips parted in disbelief.

"...Alvar?"

The man blinked, confused. His winter coat rustled as he tilted his head—exactly the way Alvar used to when puzzled. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm, polite, and unmistakably Japanese-accented.

"It’s alright," he said, stepping aside.

And he walked past me.

Walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving me standing there in the middle of the crosswalk as people brushed past, cars honked, and Christmas lights glittered overhead.

But I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Because my heart—my stupid, aching heart—was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

It’s him.It’s him.It’s him.

He didn’t need the same face. He didn’t need the same voice. He didn’t need the same name.

My soul recognized him.

That was my husband.

That was Alvar.

My breath broke—and suddenly, I was running.

Shoving through crowds, slipping on slush, bumping into shoulders—"Sorry—! Move—excuse me—!"

My lungs burned as I sprinted down the sidewalk. "Huff—hah—Alvar—!"

People stared.

But I didn’t care.

I would lose him again if I stopped. I would lose him forever. I turned a corner—and there he was.

Standing under a canopy of golden lights, phone pressed to his ear, speaking calmly with a tone I had never heard but a silhouette I would know anywhere.

My knees nearly gave out.

"I found you..." I whispered, smiling through tears. "You’re really here..."

I took a shaky breath—and I ran.

My boots skidded on snow as I threw myself toward him. Before he could turn, before doubt could stop me, I grabbed his hand—warm. Solid. Real.

"Alvar..."

He turned his head—blue eyes widening in surprise.

"...excuse—?"

But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. Tears spilled over helplessly as I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his chest, breathing in a scent I’d never smelled here but my soul recognized instantly.

"You made it..." I hiccuped, voice cracking beyond repair. "You really followed me here..."

My fingers clutched his coat, desperate, trembling. "I knew you wouldn’t leave me... I knew you wouldn’t..."

For a moment—just a moment—he stood still.

As if something inside him paused. As if something tugged. As if some invisible thread between our souls trembled—but then—he gently placed his hands on my shoulders. And pushed me back.

Not harshly.

Not coldly.

But with the careful distance of a stranger.

"I’m... sorry," he said softly. "But you mistook me for someone else."

The snow fell harder. The lights blurred into halos of gold and white. My breath curled into the winter air—thin, broken, shivering.

The man looked at me for a moment longer... those blue eyes flickering with something I couldn’t name.

Pity?Confusion?Recognition?

No... that last one was my wishful thinking. He gave me a small, gentle smile. A stranger’s smile.

"...Take care," he said quietly.

And then—He turned.

And walked away.

His footsteps faded into the swirl of Christmas music, laughter, and snowfall—becoming just another figure disappearing down a bright winter street.

My hands hung uselessly at my sides, still tingling with the warmth of his sleeve. My heart throbbed—slow, heavy, aching.

"That’s right..." I whispered to myself, voice trembling. "Why... why did I assume he was my Alvar?"

The snow muffled the world, softening everything but the pain in my chest.

"He’s just a stranger. A normal man. Someone living his own life."

And yet—And yet the ache didn’t fade. Because deep inside me—past the loneliness, past the grief, past the hollow space carved out by destiny—

It still felt like him.

As if my heart, not my eyes, recognized him.

As if something in my soul whispered:

That’s him. He’s here. He found you.

I shut my eyes, letting the snow settle on my lashes, melting into silent tears and mumbled, "I miss you."