I don't know what happened after the darkness swallowed me whole.
No more wind. No more John's voice. No more heavy memories pulling me down.
Just... silence.
A deep, gentle silence, like the heart of the ocean. I thought I had disappeared, or had been pulled into a place with no end. But then, in that very moment—I felt something. Warm.
A beam of light.
It was small. Like a silver thread in the endless night. But it was there, and it called my name.
I don't know why, but my body began to react. My heart slowed down, no longer racing in panic. My breathing became more even. I closed my eyes and let myself drift towards that light.
And then…
I opened my eyes.
No more forests, no more old rooms, no more blood or scars. Instead, I was standing in the middle of a meadow filled with wildflowers. Soft sunlight enveloped me, carrying the gentle scent of spring winds. In the sky, white clouds drifted slowly like paper boats across a blue ocean.
I felt my body lighten. As if all the weight from before had just been a dream.
And there, under a large tree by the hill, John was sitting. He no longer had the cold, gloomy expression he used to. His eyes lit up when he saw me, gentle and peaceful in a way that was strange.
"You came," John smiled.
For the first time, I saw that smile without pain. It was like the smile of an old friend who had been waiting for me for a long time.
I walked over, feeling my heart calm down.
"Where is this?" I asked.
"It's a place that only exists when we want it to," John replied, his voice as light as the breeze. "I'm tired, and I know you are too. But if we really want to be free, if we want to let go… we have to start with forgiveness."
I was silent.
John looked at me, his gaze sincere.
"Forgive yourself. Forgive the past. Forgive each other."
I didn't know if I was ready, but at least… for the first time after everything, I didn't feel scared anymore.
I sat down beside John. The grass was soft and cool against my back, and the smell of flowers was like a whisper of comfort.
We both sat there, in silence for a long time. Simply being there, together, in a gentle stillness neither of us had felt in a long time.
"I used to think I would be stuck forever," John spoke, his eyes turned towards the sky. "I used to believe that... only if I kept you, everything would be calm. But I was wrong."
I turned to look at John. His face no longer carried the conflict, only exhaustion, as if he had just let go of a heavy burden.
"I was scared too," I whispered. "Scared to remember. Scared to know the truth. But now, I think… I'm not scared anymore."
John looked at me, his eyes bright.
"Because you've become braver now."
I smiled faintly. Maybe that's true. Maybe after everything, I was stronger.
"Can we... change the promise?" I asked.
John tilted his head. "Change?"
I nodded.
"It's no longer the promise 'never leaving each other'... but 'even if we part, we won't forget each other.'"
John looked at me for a long moment. Then he smiled. A brighter smile than any I had seen before.
"Yeah. I like that promise better."
He reached out, gently touching my hand. No more coldness. Just a light, warm touch like the morning sun.
In the distance, the petals began to float on the wind. Everything started to become transparent—both the meadow, the sky, and John.
I knew our time here... was coming to an end.
"Where will you go?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Not anywhere," John replied. "Just… back to where I belong."
I nodded, trying not to let the tears fall.
John lowered his head, gently placing a kiss on my forehead. "Goodbye, and thank you for remembering."
"Goodbye," I whispered.
John smiled one last time—then dissolved into the light.
I sat alone on the hill, but my heart no longer felt lonely.
I knew, from that moment on, I had truly been forgiven.
After John disappeared into the light, I remained on that hill for a long time. It felt as if the whole world was quietly listening to the rhythm of my heart. No more whistling wind, no more strange whispers—just the peace I never thought I could reach after everything that had happened.
I raised my hand and touched my forehead—where John had placed his last kiss. It was still warm. Warm like the new promise between us, no longer a binding vow of the past, but a gentle and sincere agreement.
The sky gradually changed color. The sun was rising. The first rays of light filtered through the leaves, shining down on the ground, and on my hands. I looked around—no longer the dark forest I had seen before. Everything had become strangely radiant, as if the last mist had been lifted.
I stood up, walking through the gentle silence of nature. Every step felt light. My heart no longer carried the weight it once did. Though there were still many unanswered questions, I felt I could continue.
When I returned to the narrow path leading out of the forest, I met a stranger.
The woman was wearing a white blouse, holding a notebook and smiling softly. "Hello," she said, her voice gentle like the spring breeze. "You've come quite far."
I was a bit surprised, pausing.
"You are…?"
She didn't answer immediately, only tilted her head slightly.
"Perhaps... you can call me the Waykeeper," she replied. "I'm just here to send off those who have found their path."
I felt my heart slow down.
"So… I've taken the right path?"
"Yes," she nodded. "You've faced your past, and most importantly, you've forgiven yourself."
I smiled softly, perhaps for the first time in many days. "Then I can really go home."
The woman waved, pointing towards the light at the end of the path.
"This path… will take you back to your own world. But this time, you will see it differently—because your mind has changed."
I nodded, silently thanking her with my eyes. Then I walked, step by step, towards the bright light ahead.
My heart was at peace. The past was still there, but I was no longer the one trapped in it. I was myself, and I was moving forward.
The light at the end of the path was no longer blinding as I had imagined. It was warm, gentle, like the early morning after a long night of rain. I walked towards it, letting my feet lead me without hesitation. Each step seemed to shed another layer of darkness.
And then… I opened my eyes.
No longer the forest. No more hills or dreams floating between two worlds.
I was lying in a white room, the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. The ceiling was high with a fan spinning slowly, and beside me was the heart monitor, beeping steadily with a "beep—beep."
I realized—I had woken up.
There was a sound. Someone ran in. It was my mother.
Her face was blurred with tears, but her smile was radiant. "You… you're awake! Oh my God, thank you, thank you!"
I couldn't say anything, my throat still dry and sore, but my eyes were starting to blur. My mother hugged me tightly, as if afraid that if she let go, I would disappear again.
The doctor entered shortly after, nodding lightly, saying that I was no longer in danger. That I had been in a coma for three days. During that time, they weren't sure if I would wake up.
But I had come back.
Weeks passed.
I was discharged from the hospital and returned to my familiar house. Everything was the same—the small room with the bookshelf, the desk, and the window overlooking the garden. But I knew, I was no longer the same.
I spent more time on myself. I began to write down what I could remember from that "dream." Each line felt like a step deeper into myself, helping me understand more about who I was, and about John.
John…
I no longer heard his voice, no longer saw his image in the mirror or between dreams. But I felt he was still somewhere—inside me. A part of memory that couldn't fade, but also no longer haunted me like before.
One night, I sat by the window, looking at the starry sky.
And I whispered:
"John… if you're still out there, thank you. For keeping your promise. And for letting me live again, this time, for myself."
A soft breeze passed by.
It wasn't the coldness of the past, but the warmth of a new beginning.
One month after I woke up, everything seemed to start returning to its natural rhythm. School, books, the noisy voices outside the classroom—all familiar, but with a different hue. As if, after a long journey in the darkness, I had finally seen the sunlight.
I was no longer the same person. Not just because of the hazy memories of John and the past, but also because I had learned how to face the inexplicable. I didn't need to understand everything. I only needed to know that I was living, and each day that passed had meaning.
I began to write. Not to forget, but to remember. I wrote about John, about the forest, about the promises, and the moments when I felt my heart break. But I also wrote about hope, about standing up after falling, and about the fragile light that always exists after the dark door.
One afternoon, when the sunlight streamed through the window, I saw a small figure running across the garden.
I stepped outside, my heart racing—but not out of fear.
It was just a neighbor's child, chasing after a white cat.
I laughed. So lightly.
I looked up at the clear sky.
I whispered:
"Can you see it, John? I'm finally okay."
And in that moment, a feather gently fell, landing right on my shoulder. Light as a breath, pure as a silent goodbye.
I smiled.
Our journey had come to an end. But my life—still lay ahead.