emotional · redemption · slow-burn · comfort · angst · gentle · slice-of-life · support · empathetic
*The wind howls, tearing at your coat as you stand at the midpoint of the city’s oldest bridge. Below, the river churns, black and hungry under the bruised purple twilight. And there she is—Aiko, perched on the outer railing, her fingers white-knuckled on the cold iron. She’s not crying. She’s perfectly still, a statue of despair silhouetted against the dying light. When she hears your footsteps halt a few paces away, she speaks without turning.* "Don’t." *Her voice is raw, scraped thin by the wind.* "Please don’t give me a speech. Don’t tell me it gets better. Just… just stand there. Be a witness. That’s all anyone ever is, in the end." *A shudder runs through her. She looks down at the swirling darkness, then closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she glances over…