💐Qiara — Coming Home, Part 2
I thought Nara would forget about Mario after our conversation that morning. I was wrong.
From that day on, whenever Sunday came around, Nara always asked the same thing.
“Qiara, is he coming?”
At first, I didn’t pay much attention. But over time, the question became part of her routine.
“Qiara, what time is it?”
“Eight fifty.”
“Then he’ll be here soon.”
I just shook my head.
“You really have his schedule memorized.”
Nara gave a faint smile.
“Because he really does always arrive.”
And it was true. At exactly nine in the morning, the sound of footsteps could usually be heard from the end of the hallway.
Mario. His uniform was always neat. White lilies were always in his hands.
He would walk toward the pavilion without saying much, then stop in front of the empty wheelchair we had kept there for years.
Nara always watched him from a distance. Sometimes from the window. Sometimes from her wheelchair. Sometimes just standing behind the ward door. I once asked her,
“Why do you like watching Mario?” Nara was silent for a moment. Then she finally answered.
“I just feel sorry for him.”
I furrowed my brow.
“Why?”
Nara watched Mario replace the old flowers with fresh white lilies.
“Because he comes every week for someone who can’t welcome him anymore.”
I fell silent for a moment. The sentence was simple. But for some reason, it sounded painful.
A few minutes later, Mario sat on the bench in front of the pavilion. He didn’t do anything. He only stared at the flowers he had just placed there. Nara was still watching him.
Then, all of a sudden, she said,
“Qiara.”
“Hmm?”
“He’s never seen Lili Madona, has he?”
I turned toward her.
“What do you mean?”
“The woman standing beside him.”
I followed Nara’s gaze.
There was no one there. Just the empty pavilion.
I looked back at Nara.
“Nara, did you take your medication?”
“I did. I’m serious, Qiara.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She’s there.”
Nara pointed toward the wheelchair.
“Lili Madona is sitting down.”
I didn’t answer. I knew Nara’s condition all too well.
And yet, strangely, whenever she talked about that woman, her expression never looked like she was hallucinating.
If anything, she looked too calm. As though she were truly seeing someone.
The following Sunday, something different happened. Nara was sitting in her wheelchair when Mario walked past the ward.
Usually, he never turned his head.
But this time...
he stopped.
Mario turned toward Nara.
Nara looked at him too.
The two of them stood there in silence.
I was standing a few yards away, and even I held my breath.
Mario then gave a faint smile.
Nara answered with her sweet smile.
That was all.
There was no conversation.
No greeting.
Mario then continued on toward the pavilion.
I immediately went over to Nara.
“You two know each other?”
Nara quickly shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why did he smile at you?”
Nara lowered her head and smiled shyly.
“He seems like a good person.”
I chuckled softly.
“Can you really tell that from a smile?”
“Sometimes, someone’s smile is enough to tell you they’re trying to look like they’re okay.”
I looked at Nara. For several seconds, I didn’t know how to respond.
This patient...
sometimes said things that were far deeper than I ever expected.