8:
The image cut out. Michael switched off the
<
spirit mirror.
“What do you want to do now? Have you
remembered anything?”
His sudden question startled me.
Even without the memories, the images filled
me with sadness and rage.
I shook my head. “Those memories… they
don’t seem very pleasant. Maybe it’s better
this way.”
I pressed my hand to my chest. It still ached.
But this pain was nothing compared to
watching my child disappear, to seeing my
husband tear me apart for another woman.
Michael looked at me, then sighed. “I’m sorry.
I should have protected you. I won’t let
anything like this happen again.”
He reached out, brushing a stray hair from my
face, his ears turning pink. “Your hair was
messy.”
I smiled. “Thank you for always being there
for me, Michael.”
A flicker of pain crossed his face, quickly masked by tenderness. “Don’t mention it.”
Warmth spread through me. “Have you… always had feelings for me?”
He froze, his eyes darting away, surprised by
my directness.
く
He blushed crimson. “Yes,” he whispered.
I smiled. “Then, when I’m better, will you take
me away from here?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes,” he said eagerly.
