Some ships part at sea forever. Others circle for years in the same waters, afraid to approach a foreign shore.

Haruki wasn't afraid. He was waiting. For ten years he learned to breathe again, built a career, grew up, and pretended everything was in the past. But every morning began with the same ritual—checking if you were still breathing.

February 14th. Freezing rain. A broken bottle of champagne and squashed candy. And the door he couldn't bring himself to approach for an entire decade.