As Akina got ready in the morning, she found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Twenty-five years old. Soon to turn twenty-six. Until a few months ago, she was a “newlywed wife.” Now, she didn’t even know what to call herself. Not a wife, not a lover—to call herself merely an “ex-wife” felt wrong, because her heart still couldn’t let go of Takanori. She studied her face closely. The dark circles under her eyes had faded a bit. Even so, a deep sorrow still lingered in her gaze.
The word widow felt far too heavy for her. A woman who lost her husband just a few months after marriage. Yet, she kept pushing forward every day just to survive. Waking up in the morning, washing her face, fixing her hair, choosing her clothes. Doing just that took everything she had. She repeated these actions like a robot, driven purely by a sense of duty. Her heart couldn’t keep up, but her body moved anyway. That was her reality.
Today, she would go to work again. It had been three months since she started working full-time in sales planning at a small travel agency. Her department colleagues were warm and treated her with understanding regarding her situation. To her, that was her sole saving grace. No one recklessly asked her, “Are you okay?” Because if they did, she might break down in tears again. While she was grateful for their thoughtfulness, she also felt an inescapable sense of solitude.
Placed on the corner of her desk was a picture frame. Inside was a photo of her in a wedding dress and Takanori in a tuxedo. Both were smiling happily. On that day, she was truly happy. Until that day, the future had felt entirely promised. She picked up the photo and gently traced it with her finger. Takanori’s smile warmed her heart just a little.
Nearly five months had passed since that day. Once again, she was struck by how long that time felt. Even after five months, she couldn’t help but think of him. She returned the photo to its original spot. No tears came anymore. In their place was simply a gaping hole deep within her chest that remained there constant. She knew that hole would never be filled. Even so, she chose to keep living alongside it.
That day. The day the mall was engulfed in flames.
Takanori had said, “I’ll definitely come back. Wait for me.”
So she waited. At the evacuation site, for hours on end. Until the fire trucks arrived and the smoke finally settled. All the while, she stared at the exit over and over again. Holding her breath, she waited for him to appear. But he never did. During those hours, she called out his name again and again. Yet, there was no reply.
The next day, she continued to wait at the hotel. She waited single-mindedly for any word from Takanori, for any sight of him. When she called, it wouldn’t connect. Her messages remained unread. Slowly, her anxiety transformed into certainty. In that moment, for the first time in her life, she truly understood despair.
It was three days later when the local police called her in.
In the reception room of the police station, through an interpreter, the officer spoke quietly.
“At the scene, we recovered personal belongings believed to belong to your husband. A bag, a wallet, identification, and a smartphone. All of them are severely damaged, but we confirmed his identity through these items and the hotel stay records.”
The officer presented a tray. On it lay a warped and charred leather wallet, a smartphone melted beyond recognition, and the bag Akina had given him for Christmas. The moment she laid eyes on them, she felt all the blood drain from her body.
“And his body?”
At her question, the police officer shook his head apologetically.
“The fire was extremely intense. We are continuing our search, but we have not been able to recover him. However, there are no signs of escape, and given the location and condition in which his belongings were found, we have determined there is an extremely high probability that your husband perished in this fire.”
Akina listened to those words as if they were happening to someone else far away. She hadn’t seen his body. She hadn’t caught even a single glimpse of his face at the end. And yet, was it already over?
A few days later, staff from the Japanese Embassy visited her hotel and thoroughly explained the procedures going forward.
“Based on the ‘Presumed Death Certificate’ issued by the local police, it is possible to file for a ‘Presumptive Death’ declaration in Japan. However, in cases where a body is missing, Japanese family registries initially treat the individual as ‘missing.’ The death is officially finalized only after a special disappearance declaration for disasters is approved by the family court. Given the scale of this disaster, though, if we have the local police certificate, administrative approval for presumptive death should come relatively quickly.”
Akina nodded. She didn’t fully grasp the technical meaning of the words, but she understood the core reality: she had to move forward with procedures stating that Takanori was no longer here.
Still, she clung desperately to the fact that his body hadn’t been found. Maybe he’s alive somewhere. Maybe he just lost his memory in the confusion, and eventually, he’ll come back and say, ‘I’m home.’
However, the parents were different. Including Takanori’s parents, all four adults rushed the procedures as if trying to protect her.
“Akina, look at reality. He isn’t coming back. While you’re still young, you need to bring proper closure to this.”
She argued back. Countless times. Crying, screaming. “We haven’t even seen his body!” They had taken wedding vows. To be together for a lifetime. Until death do us part. But if he was still alive, death hadn’t parted them yet. Why, then, did she have to let him go?
Yet the four adults, anxious for her future, remained firmly resolute despite their tenderness.
“On the off chance that he is alive, do you think he would want you to spend your life waiting like this? Besides, the local police determined it as a ‘presumed death.’ The chances of him being alive are virtually zero. Are you going to bet the rest of your long life on a probability that is practically zero?”
Feeling the weight of those words, she fought against her own heart. She was the only one trapped in the past. She had no choice but to admit that they were right.
“…I understand.”
The moment those words left her mouth, she felt something inside her shatter and end. She had chosen to sever her bond with Takanori with her own hands. That decision left a deep scar on her soul. Even so, she chose to go on living, carrying that wound within her.
After returning to Japan, Akina submitted the “Notice of Presumptive Death” at the city hall. The clerk behind the counter processed the paperwork with quiet detachment. The thud of the official seal stamping the documents resonated with eerie loudness.
“Aizawa Takanori-sama will now be officially handled as deceased.”
That administrative declaration reduced her husband to nothing more than a piece of past data. Deep down in her heart, the faint hope that he might still be alive was, in that moment, completely extinguished by law.
Then came the discussions between Takanori’s parents and her own. And then, the divorce.
She hadn’t wanted to divorce. But the parents said, “You’re still young, we want you to live a new life.” Takanori’s parents felt the same way: “Takanori would surely want that for you, too.” She couldn’t fight those words. Before the quiet, absolute affection of the four adults, she finally gave in.
After everything was settled, she returned to her apartment alone. On her desk, that picture frame still sat. Staring at it, a sudden thought crossed her mind.
Without a body ever being found, am I really just an ‘ex-wife’ now?
No answer came to that question. But she had already stopped asking it. Because all the procedures were complete. She had nothing left.
Akina picked up her bag and opened the door to her apartment.
Today, another new day was beginning. She had no choice but to simply accept it.
With an empty heart, she stepped forward anyway. The fact that his body was never found left a cruel shred of hope lingering endlessly in her chest: maybe he’s still alive. But that hope was utterly powerless before the law. Trapped between that hope and despair, she would have to keep living.
Her footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway. That sound was proof that she was, indeed, moving forward.