Chapter 2 : The Colors That Remain.

It had been three days since Haruto found out.

Three days since the words “She’s gone” shattered the delicate world he built around her smile.

The cherry blossom tree still stood tall, petals floating through the spring air as if nothing had changed. But everything had.

Haruto sat beneath it, holding the sketchbook that had become a diary of feelings he never dared to speak aloud. On each page, there was Aoi — laughing, painting, lost in thought, adjusting her scarf — memories frozen in graphite and color.

He flipped through them slowly until one page stopped him.

It wasn’t a sketch.

It was a letter.

A small folded note, taped between two pages.

It was her handwriting.

> To Haruto,

If you’re reading this… then maybe I couldn’t say it in person. Maybe I didn’t have the time. I don’t know what kind of face you’re making right now — maybe angry, maybe sad. I just hope… you’ll forgive me.

There’s something I never said. I knew about my illness long before college began. I wanted to live life like I never had before — to feel normal, even if just for a while. I didn’t want anyone to pity me or treat me like I was fragile.

But then I met you.

You didn’t try to impress me. You didn’t try to fix me. You just… saw me. And I started to hope. I wanted to stay. I wanted more days under the trees. More songs. More paintings. More time.

But I was scared. Scared that if I let you in, you’d be the one hurt most when I had to go.

That’s why I said I wanted to focus on my career. It was a lie — one that broke my heart to say. Because the truth is… I loved you too.

You made me feel like I wasn’t just fading. You made me feel alive.

Please keep painting. Keep singing. Keep living.

That would make me so happy.

– Aoi

The page blurred as his tears began to fall.

He didn’t cry loudly. He just let them slip, quietly, into the grass, the petals, the past.

Later that evening, Haruto stood in front of a mirror in his dorm, guitar in hand. His fingers hesitated on the strings. The room was silent — but her voice echoed in his mind:

"Keep singing."

That night, he performed at the college open mic — something they once talked about doing together. The stage lights washed over him, his nerves shaking in his chest.

“This one’s… for someone who saw colors where I only saw gray,” he said into the mic.

The crowd fell quiet.

He sang a song called “Her Colors”, filled with raw notes and quiet truths. Every lyric told their story. Every strum was a heartbeat. When he finished, the room stayed silent for a moment… then burst into applause.

But he didn’t hear it.

He was still somewhere beneath that cherry tree, hearing her laugh in the wind.

Over the weeks that followed, Haruto returned to painting — not because of the pain, but because of what she had given him: a gift. A vision. A reason.

He painted her scarf into every piece. Sometimes in the background. Sometimes tied to the wind. It became his silent tribute.

One painting, however, stood out.

It was titled “The Girl Beneath the Blossoms.”

It captured the moment he first saw her, exactly as he remembered — her eyes filled with light, brush in hand, surrounded by falling petals.

It would be displayed in a local gallery — his first ever exhibit.

As he stood in front of it, a quiet smile touched his lips.

She was gone.

But her colors remained.

And he would carry them forward.

---To be Continued...

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***