DISCLAIMER: Detective Conan and all its characters belong to Gosho Aoyama. This is a non-profit fanwork.

Unasked

'I still miss her, you know.'

The mutter was so quiet that the fair-haired man barely heard it. Lying completely naked underneath the thin sheets, he moved a bit closer to his wife, who had her back to him.

'Sorry?'

'How could I ever possibly forget her?' the woman added, as if she hadn't heard her husband. 'She was the only family I ever had.'

The man's heart twisted painfully with realization at her words and, in an attempt to convey the many feelings that flooded his chest at once, he tightened the grip of his arm around the woman's waist.

'There isn't a single day I don't remember her,' his wife went on. Her voice broke a little more with every word she pronounced. 'Even if we couldn't be together as much or as often as we wanted, I treasure every second we shared, every little detail I can recall of her – they're all I have left, after all, aren't they?'

'And I miss her. I wish she hadn't died. I wish she could have attended our wedding; I wish she could have met her niece and nephew, that they had the aunt they should have had; I wish she could have been there for me in the last years, for the bad moments and for the good ones too; I wish I could have asked her all the questions I still have about our parents, that I could have known what my father's voice sounded like or what perfume was my mother's favorite. And I can only open my eyes every morning and be reminded of that, of the fact that I'm alive and she's dead, and that a piece of my heart is still missing, ever since the day we parted for good. And I… I can only wish… she hadn't died…'

With a bump of her shoulders, the woman stopped speaking and then started to cry. Her husband, feeling his heart as if clutched by an iron fist, pressed his face against her back and hugged her even more tightly.

In the dark room, lit only by the dim moonlight that shone through the overcast windowpane, Shiho Miyano lay next to her sister's murderer. She didn't reject his embrace, as the warmth of his body against hers was the only solace to her grieving heart which she had ever found or known.

Author's notes:

¡Hola! Hello! Hallo! こんにちは! Salut! Here comes Sherry Furude once more, ready for attack!

First of all, thank you for reading! I wrote this drabble last month, on the night from October 16th to 17th. Being it so short (only 396 words long!), you won't be surprised to know it didn't take me much time. But what is the reason I wrote it in the first place, you may ask? I guess it's the same as that of Late dinner and many other fics of mine: that I needed a breath of fresh air. It happens all the time - whenever I'm working on a (and solely on a) multi-chapter fic, there comes a time when I ache for writing a short one, if only to do something different. And it works the other way round, too - when I only write oneshot-type fics for a long period, I unavoidably end up longing to write a multi-chapter one. They say that we humans always want what we don't have. Maybe that's the reason? I don't know!

And yes, I must admit that I pretty much poured my own feelings onto this fic - Shiho's words are here as mine as they've probably never been before. Even if not exactly like hers, I've experienced loss too, as every single human being has. I know what it's like to have someone you love die all of sudden, to watch your wishes and dreams relating that person fall down like a house of cards, to see their future shatter for good. I know what it's like to cry for someone who used to wipe out your tears. I'm not the first writer to let their feelings out through their writing, nor will be the last one, but it's been nice and it has surely helped me, even if only a little. It is somethign I would recommend doing.

So I guess there isn't much left to say. Thank you again for reading. Do not hesitate to tell me if you find any kind of mistake (be it of grammar, spelling or punctuation). I want to improve my writing as much as I can!

Lots of love and see you next time,

Sherry F.