A Story About a Girl Who Took Life for Granted and Fell in Love With a Kind and Introverted Boy - Chapter 23.2

I interrupted him, cutting off his questions about me.

Honestly, I didn’t hate Dad. He was the reason I’d grown to love reading, always buying me books when I was younger.

But I couldn’t forgive him for hurting my mom by cheating. I wanted to end this conversation quickly and leave the café.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Kenji. It’s not so much a talk…but could you give this to Yuriko?”

He took a brown envelope out of his pocket.

“It’s a letter. For Yuriko. I want you to give it to her yourself.”

He placed the envelope on the table in front of me.

“…A letter? What would you tell Mom now?”

“What did Yuriko say to you? About why we got divorced?”

“…She said you cheated.”

“Yeah, that’s what she believes. But it’s not the truth.”

“What?”

“I never cheated.”

“…”

“It might be hard to believe, but back then, there was a woman who secretly liked me. She lied to Yuriko, telling her, ‘I’m his lover. We’ve been together for a long time.'”

“…”

“She wasn’t my lover, not even close. But Yuriko…she believed her. That’s the short version.”

“…”

“Yuriko has always been a bit stubborn and quick to assume things. No matter how much I explained that I wasn’t unfaithful, she never believed me. In the end, we separated. Of course, part of it was my fault for not being able to reassure her. This is how it had to be.”

“…Is that really true?”

“It is.”

“…”

I couldn’t believe it. My mother had always told me the divorce was because of his affair, so it was hard to accept this story.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Here’s your coffee. Enjoy.”

The server placed the coffee in front of us and left.

After taking a sip, my father resumed talking.

“Whether you believe it or not, Kenji, is up to you. I’m not here to convince you.”

“…So does this letter explain that? About how it wasn’t an affair…?”

“No, that lette i’s a farewell note.”

“A farewell?”

“Tomorrow, I’m leaving for Germany.”

“…”

“I probably won’t come back to Japan. So before I go, I wanted to convey my feelings to Yuriko—and to see you one last time.”

“…”

For the first time, I looked straight at my father’s face.

He had that faint smile, but his eyes looked sad, filled with a hint of longing.

“I thought about it a lot, Kenji. Sending her a letter probably won’t change anything now. It might even seem pointless. Part of me thought it would be best to leave for Germany without saying anything.”

“…”

“But…I realized I’m okay with that.”

“Okay with it?”

“I want to express my real feelings, even if they don’t reach her.”

“…Your real feelings?”

He looked a bit shy as he said this, but his gaze was serious as he told me:

“Kenji, I still love you and your mother.”

“…”

“That’s one thing that will never change for me.”

“…Really? Even if Mom and I don’t love you back?”

“Kenji, do you know what the only certainty in this world is?”

“…No.”

“Here.”

He placed his hand over his chest.

“Your own feelings, Kenji.”

“…”

“No matter how close you are to someone, you can never know what they truly feel, not 100%.”

“…!”

“Even after ten or a hundred years, you can’t fully understand each other. That’s the gap that exists between people. So the only thing you can be absolutely certain of is your own feelings. And that’s enough, Kenji.”

“…”

“No matter what you or Yuriko feel about me, it doesn’t matter. My love for both of you is my own truth, one that only I know.”

“…”

“That’s enough. I don’t need to believe in anything else. That’s what I’ve come to feel.”

“Dad…”

“Maybe it’s because I’m going to Germany, knowing I may never see you again, that I’ve finally come to understand this.”

My father took another sip of his coffee, finishing it with that last drink.

“Oh, and Kenji. I wanted to give you this.”

He handed me a small book with the title “Kenji Miyazawa’s Poetry Collection” on the cover.

“Oh! This book…I’ve wanted it for so long…!”

“Really? That’s great. You’ve loved Kenji Miyazawa ever since you were little. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“…”

“This will be the last book I can give you. I’d love for you to treasure it.”

“…”

“Well then, sorry for taking up your time.”

He left a thousand yen bill on the table and stood up.

“I should be on my way now.”

“…”

“Take care, Kenji. And stay close with your mom.”

He raised his hand in a small wave, then turned his back to me.

…I had so many things I wanted to say.

But I couldn’t put them into words. It felt like nothing I said would matter, and there wasn’t enough time to express everything I felt.

All I could feel was a deep, overwhelming loneliness.

“…Dad!”

I managed to open my mouth and call out to him.

He turned, looking at me over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I…I’m going to perform a play for the school festival. It’s Night on the Galactic Railroad. We’re putting it on as a play.”

“Oh, Galactic Railroad. Good choice.”

“And…I’m Giovanni. I’m playing Giovanni.”

“Is that so? That really suits you.”

“…”

“Good luck with the festival. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“…Yeah.”

When I answered, he smiled warmly and left the café.

All that remained where he had sat was an empty coffee cup.

“…”

The cool night wind blew past as I walked home.

In my hands, I held the book he’d given me and the letter for my mother.

‘No matter how close you are to someone, you can never know what they truly feel, not 100%.’

‘But that’s enough, Kenji.’

‘No matter what you or Yuriko feel about me, it doesn’t matter. My love for both of you is my own truth, one that only I know.’

…Dad.

I still didn’t know if I could forgive him.

But his words echoed deep in my heart.

Somehow, those words felt like the most important message I had ever received.

“…”

When I closed my eyes, an image of Kana appeared in my mind.

“I’m home.”

When I got home, my mother was lying in bed as usual.

“Oh, welcome back, Kenji.”

She gave me a weak smile, and I gazed at her absentmindedly.

“…Hey, Mom. There was mail today.”

“Mail?”

“From Dad.”

“…”

The moment I mentioned Dad’s name, my mother’s expression hardened.

“It’s a letter for you…Do you want to read it?”

“…”

She turned away from me, her voice flat and emotionless as she spoke.

“Throw it away.”

…In my mind, I pictured my father’s face. That bittersweet smile.

As I remembered it, I was overwhelmed by an indescribable feeling that I couldn’t bear.

Without saying anything to my mother, I placed the letter he’d given me inside the book and put it on my shelf.