There is not a single person left on this earth who shares my blood.

#nana56b


Synopsis

It was four years ago that the light of “family”
in my life began to fade.

I lost my mother before I was old enough to remember,
and my father—who, though not the most skilled at it,
raised me single-handedly—was taken from me in a
sudden car accident. Once the commotion of the
funeral had subsided and the scent of incense began
to fade, I was enveloped by a “silence” so
profound it hurt my ears.
I was twenty-three. It was my first year in the
workforce.
Even though there must be billions of people in the
world, not a single person on this earth remained who
was related to me by blood. That reality swallowed my
heart whole, like a bottomless swamp.

Even when I said, “I’m home,” the only thing that
came back was the vibration of the cold air.
It was right after my father’s forty-ninth-day
memorial service that she—Misaki—appeared before me
as I sat hugging my knees in the dark room.

She stood at my front door, pulling a large suitcase
and holding bags in both hands.
“…Misaki? What’s with all that luggage?”
She looked straight back into my dazed eyes. There
wasn’t a trace of hesitation in her gaze.

“Starting today, I’m going to live here with you.”

Her voice trembled, but it was resolute.
“So you won’t have to cry alone. I’m going to be
your new family.”

Misaki’s family was the picture-perfect, serious
household—she’d been raised by strict parents.
Sure enough, her parents vehemently opposed our
relationship.
Even so, Misaki never let go of my hand.

“He needs someone right now. My desire to be by his
side isn’t out of pity—it’s my own choice.”

We visited her parents’ home countless times to try
to convince them.

Finally, they allowed us to live together on the
condition that “we would definitely get married one
year after she graduated from college and started
working.”

The days that followed were pure salvation for me.
When I came home exhausted from work, I’d see the
light spilling from the window.
I’d hear the sound of a knife in the kitchen.
And I’d hear her warm voice saying, “Welcome
home.”
Whenever I felt like I was about to be swallowed up
by the darkness of the night, she’d silently hold
my hand beside me. Just the warmth of that hand was
enough to make me realize I was still anchored to
this world.

Precisely because I know the coldness of the phrase
“utterly alone,” I understand all too well just
how precious the miracle of having someone by my
side truly is.

And then, the promised month of March arrived.
She successfully completed her first year as a
working professional, and as planned, we held our
wedding ceremony and registered our marriage on a
peaceful day last week.

I took out my father’s portrait, which had been
tucked away in the back of the dresser, and spoke
to it softly.
“Dad, I’m not alone anymore. I’ve found the best
family.”

No matter what hardships lie ahead, I will never
let her go.
To the woman who gave me back …