Her voice still echoed in my mind — soft, distant, like a dream that refused to fade with the morning light.

When I opened my eyes, I didn’t know if it was still night or day.

The sky outside the window was pale and quiet, the kind of gray that comes after the rain. But there was something different in the air — something faint, something warm.

I sat up slowly.

The house, which had always greeted me with silence, didn’t feel empty this time.

The air carried a soft fragrance — sweet, gentle, unmistakable. It was her scent.

Her words, her hands on my face, the way she whispered those last few words… it all came rushing back.

I touched my cheek unconsciously — the warmth was gone, but the memory wasn’t.

The curtains were still open.

The faint light falling through them felt unfamiliar in this place that had known nothing but shadows.

On the table, two cups of coffee — one half-finished, one untouched — stood like a memory frozen in time.

I picked up her cup.

Her lipstick mark still faintly on the edge.

It was ridiculous, but I caught myself smiling — the kind of smile that comes without permission.

For the first time, the silence in the house didn’t feel heavy. It felt… calm.

Then I noticed something else.

Her shirt — still a bit wet from the rain — neatly folded on the couch.

The faint scent of her lingered in the fabric, gentle and familiar. I picked it up and touched the soft, damp fabric still lingering with her presence.

Next to it, a small paper note.

"Dear friend?"

I stared at those words for a long time.

That was the first time her name echoed in my head — and somehow, it fit perfectly.

A name that felt like the sound of the rain itself: soft, fleeting, beautiful.

I sat there for a while, holding the note between my fingers, reading it again and again.

Each time, it felt like she was still here, laughing quietly somewhere near.

But then reality caught up — she had left.

The rain had stopped.

The house was just a house again.

And yet… I couldn’t help but feel something inside me had shifted.

The walls didn’t look so gray anymore.

The air didn’t feel so cold.

Maybe it wasn’t just her warmth that lingered — maybe it was something she’d left behind inside me.

I looked at the window again. The world outside was washed clean.

For once, I didn’t turn away.

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