It had been three weeks since Alden died.

Yakutsk had always been cold, but now it felt different — heavier, like the air itself remembered him. Every street corner, every frozen window, every bus stop carried a shadow of him. People said time would soften the ache, but for Namiya, time only sharpened it.

She barely slept anymore. And when she did, the dreams came.

They always began the same way:
the wind whispering her name.

“Namiya…”

She would turn, and there he’d be — Alden — standing in the snow with that familiar half‑smile, the one he used when he was trying not to laugh. His coat would be dusted with frost, his hair ruffled by the wind, his eyes warm even in the cold.

But he never spoke.
He only watched her, as if waiting for her to understand something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Tonight, the dream felt sharper, almost real. The streetlamps flickered just like they had the night he didn’t come home. The snow squeaked under her boots. The air stung her cheeks.

“Alden…” she whispered, stepping toward him.

He didn’t fade like usual.
He stepped closer.

For a moment, she forgot he was gone. She forgot the phone call, the search, the terrible stillness of the hospital room. She forgot everything except the way he used to tuck her hair behind her ear and tell her she was the warmest part of his life.

But when she reached out, her hand passed through him like mist.

The cold rushed into her chest.

“Namiya…” His voice was soft, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitched. “Why do you keep appearing? What are you trying to tell me?”

His expression shifted — sorrow, longing, something unspoken. Snow swirled around him, blurring his outline.

“You have to let the world keep moving,” he murmured. “Even if I’m not in it.”

She shook her head, tears freezing on her lashes. “I don’t want to forget you.”

“You won’t.” His voice was fading now, like the wind was pulling him away. “But you have to live, Namiya. Promise me.”

The dream began to dissolve — the street, the snow, the flickering lights — all melting into white.

“Alden!” she cried, reaching for him again.

But he was already gone.