I was so lost. Every step I made, I see your eyes glistened. You were laughing on your favourite chair. Donned with the white sweater that I bought for you, you reached out for your hand. I wished I could step into that house. I wished that stepping into that home means I can get you back in my arms.

But as I rubbed my tears away, I saw dust accumulated. Emptiness and void filled the place. Nothing but scenes of us together in a place we called heaven. The greed that I have for myself would mean that I am selfish.

I could not keep the things that had memories of you. I would want to be the better person. I heard your voice at the end of the room. When I turned around, a clanking sound of plates and cups were heard and my attention was diverted to the kitchen. The presence I’ve missed. With the pink apron you wore, it was a routine that I had adapted for too long.

Too long that it was hard to get rid of.

“Kris…”

It was an illusion. All of these images emerging, it was just the old you that I had kept inside of me, wanting it to be real.

“Kris…”
Your voice was heard again. I ruffled my hair countless of times. My sanity was tested. I needed you to be out of my head. I had to leave this place.

As I turned around, a familiar figure stood before me. A petite young woman took a step. I backed away. Fantasy is something that is made in our mind, hoping for it to be real but nothing that can be touched.

“Chaerin ah…”

I cooed her name.

“This is me. I am back, Kris. I am back.”

Time was ticking but I was not back in reality.

“Are… you real?”

A/N: It is kind of late but I happened to listen to Miracles in December and it was so angsty I had to write. Damnnnnnn