To my dearest Kaida
If you're reading this letter, it means I'm no longer here.
There's so much I wish I could tell you — but I don't even have the time to put it all into words.
In these past months, a distance grew between us. A rift I could not cross.
Now, standing at the edge of death, I realize... I was wrong all along.
Instead of being the husband you deserved, the father Amara needed — instead of protecting you, cherishing you — I turned my back. I placed the village above you both. I endangered everything I loved.
If my death is the price I must pay for my mistakes, then so be it. I only pray it will be the final tragedy.
Before I go, there's something you must know — I told Dan about Amara. He knows everything. Please, Kaida... don't seek revenge. Don't let blood answer blood. Take care of our daughter — better than I ever did.
If there's one regret I'll carry into the afterlife, it's that I didn't spend more time with you. More time watching Amara grow. Now, when death looks me in the eye... that's all I can think about.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
Yours always, Daichi.
***
Kaida found the letter on the first day.
She had seen it lying there, untouched, waiting — but she couldn't bring herself to open it.
She was afraid the words inside would crush her.
And now... as she read them... the tears she thought she had run dry spilled once more.
It wasn't something she could control — every breath, every memory of him, dragged the sorrow back to life.
I can't stay here anymore...
The thought tore through her like a blade. Everything in this village screamed his name. Every path, every whisper of wind, was Daichi. And somewhere among the houses and streets... was the man responsible for his death.
But where else could she go?
Amara was still just a child — a little girl who had lost her father. How could Kaida uproot her, thrust her into a world that would only hunt her if they learned the truth?
If only... If only she was strong enough to seal that cursed power herself.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Kaida hastily tucked the letter back into the drawer and rose to her feet.
She opened the door.
"Tashi..."
"Kaida," he said softly, a weight in his voice. "Sorry to intrude. Could we talk?"
She nodded.
"Yeah... come in."
"I'm sorry I haven't been around much," Kaida said, voice low. "I don't... really have the strength to face anyone, every second I'm not with Amara feels like a betrayal. She cries... whenever she's awake..."
Tashi lowered his gaze, the grief in his eyes unmistakable.
"You don't need to apologize," he said quietly. "Everyone understands. And... personally... I can't believe Daichi is truly gone either."
Silence stretched between them — heavy, fragile.
Finally, Tashi spoke again.
"Kaida, I know you're not from here. But to me... you're family. Daichi was like a son to me. And I swear, as long as I breathe, I'll protect you and Amara."
Kaida hesitated, her heart trembling.
"Thank you," she said, voice barely a whisper.
Tashi sat down across from her, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
"That day — the day of the attack, Amara was hysterical, looking for you and Daichi. Later, Daichi came to me, he told me about what was gonna happen. Kaida..." he paused, hesitating, "do you know what happened?"
Kaida froze. A thousand thoughts exploded in her mind, but one crushed all the others:
If I had been here...
If I hadn't neglected my daughter, my husband, our home...
None of this would have happened.
The tears surged again, burning her throat. Tashi saw her struggle and quickly stood up.
"I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't the time. I'll leave you alone. But remember what I said — I'll dedicate my life to protecting you two, it's the least I can do... for Daichi."
He turned to leave—
"Wait!" Kaida's voice broke out, sharper than she intended.
Tashi stopped, silent, waiting.
Kaida swallowed hard.
"Tashi... what I'm about to tell you — you must swear. Tell no one. Not the villagers. Not even the dead."
What am I doing...?
"Amara..." she took a shuddering breath, "Amara has a special power, she sees visions, futures — they come to her in dreams."
Why am I telling him this?
"Since it awoke in her, she's been able to predict things — tragedies, victories, disasters. And Daichi... he believed it could help the village. Help all of us."
Stop talking. Stop.
"But I was afraid. I was so afraid the world would want her power, swallow her. I watched my daughter wake up crying from visions of death and despair, I searched everywhere for a cure. Anything... anything to seal it."
I'm endangering her again—
"And because of me... Daichi was killed."
Ah... that's right. It was all my fault.
Her voice broke. The words tore themselves from her soul.
The tears crashed down, her knees buckled, her heart splintered into jagged pieces.
She covered her face with trembling hands — the shame, the regret, the unbearable grief swallowing her whole.
Daichi... if you were here... what would you do? -
Warmth.
Kaida opened her tear-blurred eyes.
Tashi had crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. Not a mere embrace — A shelter. A wall between her and the world. The kind of hug a parent would give to his child, the kind Kaida hadn't felt since she was little.
"Kaida... I'm sorry you've suffered so much," he whispered fiercely.
Her cries grew louder.
"You're strong, Kaida. But to me, you're just like Daichi — a child. And it's okay for you to lean on others. Don't carry all the weight by yourself."
Kaida didn't know how to respond. The only words she managed were
"Thank you..."
***
After the storm of grief had passed, they sat quietly again.
Kaida still wasn't sure she had done the right thing, but in breaking down, she found something she thought she'd lost — the will to keep going.
"Want something to drink? You've been here a while without anything to eat or drink."
Tashi smiled. "Thanks, I'd love a glass of water."
Kaida poured a glass of water and sat back down.
"Tashi... please don't talk about this to anyone."
"Of course. You don't have to tell me twice."
"That's terrible... How could anyone find out about Amara in a place like this? I used to believe that there was no safer place than here, but it turns out that was an illusion too.. "
Her hands clenched.
Should I tell him about Dan...? No. I should take care of it myself.
She straightened.
"Tashi. I need a favor."
"Anything."
"I need you to tell everyone... that Amara and I left the village."
His eyes widened.
"Wait— Do you mean you're actually leaving, or—?"
She shook her head.
"I'll leave. But Amara... stays here. With you."
The words hung heavy between them.
"I'm trusting you, Tashi. Hide her. Protect her. Take care of our home. Take care of my daughter."
Tashi looked stricken, but before he could speak, Kaida pressed on.
"I promise... it won't take long. I just need a little... just a little time and I'll be back for her. I'll seal this damn power and set my daughter free. Until then... I know it's a big request, but—!"
Tashi closed his eyes.
He didn't understand everything, there were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but he understood enough to know what he had to do.
"I already made my promise," he said. "I'll protect her as if she were my own granddaughter. No one will know a thing, I swear it."
For the first time since Daichi's death, Kaida smiled.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll never forget this."
***
That night, after Tashi left, Kaida sat alone in the darkened living room, wrestling with the last decision.
How do I tell Amara?
Her daughter had already lost her father. Now she would lose her mother too.
But Kaida knew — leaving was the only way to truly protect her.
She couldn't bring herself to say goodbye face-to-face, afraid of the confrontation, afraid of how Amara would react, but more than anything she was scared her resolve would crumble in front of her.
So she wrote a letter. A simple promise.
Before she left, she crept into Amara's room.
The little girl slept peacefully, her breathing soft and even.
Kaida kissed her forehead, lingering, burning the memory into her soul.
"I love you," she whispered against her skin. "Always. I'll be back soon. Please... be strong for me."
She turned away — before her heart shattered completely.
That night, Amara didn't dream.
But silent tears slid down her cheeks in her sleep — as if, somehow, she already knew.