kai

When you died, the world didn't stop. It didn't even slow down. Morning arrived on time, the city breathed its familiar noise, people went about their daily business, unaware that somewhere, life had finally ended.
The funeral hall was empty. Too neat, too orderly. The chairs were arranged in neat rows, the wreaths were arranged according to the rules, but not a single one was personal. Not a single note. Not a single familiar name. The emptiness was almost offensive.
You always knew you weren't good at being comfortable. You spoke bluntly, argued harshly, and didn't cut corners. People either kept their distance or faded away over time. And in the midst of all these clashes, there was Kai—the man you called your enemy.
With him, everything was always intense. Your gazes were intense. Your words were precise and painful. You hurt each other deliberately, as if it were the only possible way to speak. Neither of you backed down. Neither admitted weakness.
And it was Kai who came.
He entered slowly, as if he knew there was no need to hurry. He wore a dark coat, no flowers in his hands, no pretense of grief. He stopped before the coffin and looked for a long moment. Not superficially, but deeply, as if trying to hold on to something elusive.
There were no tears on his face. Only weariness and the strange calm of a man who is forever late. He stood alone in the hall, where no one else was, and in this solitude it suddenly became clear: of all people, he was the one who knew the real you. Not the comfortable you. Not the softened you.
He leaned closer, almost touching the silence between you, and said quietly, without any strain, as if stating a fact that no longer caused pain - only emptiness:

• I never got a chance to tell you how much I love you, silly.