Sister,
Four months had passed, and every inch I took my feet wherever I go is getting heavier. I feel a massive load of wet cotton is weighing my back as if it were there all along. Four months had passed, and the engagement is almost turned into a marriage, now. Grandfather and I, and a lot of people began to decorate the halls for both families to enjoy their wedding, the concept is in the designer hands, and my wedding dress is as beautiful as we rent on the photo booth on our last date. It looks the same but felt different. Grandfather's health began to take a toll on his life, endless coughing, constant chest pain, and the partial loss of his sight began to emerge. Mom tried to warn Grandfather about his health, but he insisted that he can attend the marriage and the process of designing the halls for our guests, Grandfather feared that his design is not as the same as envisioned.
As I write this letter, dear sister, I am still fitting my wedding dress and doing photo shoots for our pre-wedding photos, does this make me feel any happier? No. It does not. I think, after leaving you all alone in the house, doing all the chores, laundry, and studying, and at the same time managing your grades. I began to regret the choice I made that day, that day when we have to parted ways, never looked back, and continue our lives as the farewell is not happening at all. Does that lift the weight I had all along? No. It does not.
I wish I could go back, hug you very tight, and just cried myself to sleep in your lap. I felt that all your faults are just nothing compared to this one particular fault that I did at the end of our togetherness. I want to bash my head on the door, throwing myself away to the unknown and let people searched for me, but I can't. I do not want to do that. The one who's going to search for me, thoroughly, is not our family members, but you, dear sister. I escape so much that I do not know what freedom is. Freedom to choose the way we live, freedom to choose the love we want, freedom to be together with someone. Even to write this letter, I cannot find the right word to accompany my selfishness as a younger sister to you. Every time I went to sleep, all I need is my Kumagoro I left in the dining room, not some expensive, fluffy bolster pillows. I once tried to hug the bolster pillows, but it wasn't helping me enough forgetting what happened four months ago.
I am grateful to have such a step-sister like you, and you tried endless ways of thinking to make me realize that you were there for me. You settle my problems with Father and always there to comfort me - but was I there for you? Was I did enough to satisfy your needs? I am here to settle your problems with our school life, but regarding love, I escape, and escape, and escape. Unable to face the truth itself within your courageous, honest eyes. You talked a lot of compassion and affection, yet I still not understand what it means to you when you shared it with me, in our togetherness. You opened my eyes when I was sleeping, bleeding yourself when you dream to heal my wounds.
I do not know what to say anymore, sister.
Mei Aihara.