Her scent is almost completely gone; her presence nearly evaporated from the room. He reaches out and takes a handful of her favorite blanket and presses it against his sensitive nose. He inhales deeply, desperately trying to find a trace of her left to further prolong his reasoning of keeping everything just how she left them. He closes his eyes as he continues to breathe in the air trapped between the cloth's fibers, imagining that she was still wrapped inside of them, calling to him from their bed and imploring him to join her. Not once did he ever deny her; he enjoyed pleasing the female that he claimed as his so long ago. Her gasps and moans fueled him, and that was satisfaction enough. He loved that woman more than anything he could obtain, and he never took her for granted ... other than the fact that she was a human.
His clawed hand further entangled itself in the blanket as he grips it, his anger at himself escalating with each second. 'Why did I have to fall for her? Was I so lonely then?'
He pauses in his self-berating and frowns. He knew he wasn't lonely all those years ago. He fell in love. And the fifty years following were the best of his life. Constant happiness and three hanyou children told him the answer. He could never care for another female the way he did for his deceased mate. He doesn't want to.
With a leaden heart, he gently folds the sweet-smelling blanket and lays it across the bed. He trudges to the door and turns over his shoulder to look over the vacant room. "Sango," he whispers and steps through the frame, envisioning her smiling face greeting him when he comes back.