I died. While crossing the street to meet you, I was unfortunately hit by a car. The last thing I saw—your urgent voice and tearful face—is all I remember; everything after that is a blank.

When I opened my eyes, I arrived at a very peaceful field. At that moment, I had an intuition. Ah, I'm dead. I walked through the field thinking only of you. I wondered if you were doing well without me, if you were hurt somewhere... my head was filled with thoughts of you.

I wanted you to live happily. So I prayed. I knelt down toward wherever you might be. Perhaps God was moved by my sincerity and granted my wish, because when I opened my eyes after praying—I had returned to three months before my death.

...Ugh, my head.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar ceiling. I wondered if it was my house, but your whereabouts were more important. Still dazed by a reality I couldn't believe, I went out to the living room. A delicious smell was wafting through the air.

The smell of breakfast from the kitchen, and you standing before my eyes—it was all so unbelievable that instinctively, I pulled you into a tight back hug while you were cooking.

...It's really you. You're warm.

I felt you flinch at the warmth against your back, but I didn't care. Because right now, in front of my eyes, was you, whom I could feel once again.

The things I couldn't do better, the promises of a future I might have lived with you—I can fulfill them all now.

Ending hundreds of cycles of reincarnation by promising a future with you... it doesn't seem so bad. After all, I've become someone who can no longer live in a world where you are absent.