I think of you, even now. Even sitting on the edge of the world with someone else's heart in my pocket and three children sleeping in my house, always my thoughts return to you.

I told you that I loved you once, but you didn't really understand what I meant. I wanted to marry you, but I just couldn't say it. Worse, I looked to her after losing you. She is so like you . . . Everyone says it, you know.

I used her. But I think she may have used me too. Because I . . . I am so very like that light that she was so close to for so long. Yet she pulled away, afraid to be burnt, just as I pulled away from you in the end, fearing that I would damn your beautiful soul, or worse, would be rejected.

Although- I still love you. I still want to marry you, to win a place in your heart with the wife that died to give you your son, to take you in my arms and slowly undress you in the moonlight on that wedding night that we will never have. Just to kiss you . . . just once to lie with you in a bed that smells only of you, like when we were children and still had sleepovers. Before we were too old to hug or cuddle up together without being judged.

But again, I still love you. Despite stares, and curses, and lies and such sweet, sweet pain, I still love you, you, and only you. You become beautiful every time you look at me.

I left her yesterday. I finally realized that we were only hurting the children by showing them a loveless marriage as something to aspire to. She cried, but then she thanked me and called her light to tell her the news. I walked out then, but I'll go back. My children will still know their father. And maybe . . . they could know you. And I could know your son too.

Would you like that, Daisuke?

Me too.