The Most Beautiful Girl in School Has Become a Mother

I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night.

Next to me, Shuri was sleeping soundly, making adorable little snores.

Apparently, I fell asleep while putting my sister to bed. It was something that often happened on tiring days.

──Well, a lot happened today too…

Suddenly, I reflect on the day and a wry smile appears on my face.

The misunderstanding about my request to become my mother has been cleared up, but the crucial request itself was turned down.

I plan to ask again tomorrow, but Imiya-san has her own circumstances as well. Moreover, considering her past, it’s quite a harsh request. It seems quite difficult, but I guess I have no choice but to at least try asking.

“Mom…”

Suddenly, I heard Shuri sleep-talking from next door.

She murmured that, then tightly hugged her favorite teddy bear. In the process, a single tear rolled down her cheek, soaking the pillow.

──Yeah, she definitely wants to meet her. Mom.

I wipe away the tears with my fingers and mutter to myself.

Is the “mom” that Shuri mentioned really her biological mother? Or could it be Imiya Miori?

I don’t know which one it is. However, Shuri had never seen a photo of our mother. That’s because I had made sure she wouldn’t.

Seeing a mother she can’t meet no matter what in a photo must be painful, right?—such concern and a bit of a special circumstance come together. More than anything, the former concern is just an afterthought.

The thing is, our family was unusual even among those who had lost their mothers, as my father didn’t want to place my mother’s altar or her portrait in this house.

He still doesn’t want to believe that Mom is not in this world anymore. That’s why he doesn’t visit her grave or participate in the memorial services.

Of course, if there were a family altar or a portrait of my mother in the house, I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to hide her existence from Shuri. Even as a middle schooler, I was just reading the room and still adjusting to that atmosphere.

Because of that, I also don’t have the opportunity to see any pictures of my mother. The album is in the house, but it’s secretly hidden on the top shelf of the closet in my room. I placed it in a spot where she absolutely couldn’t reach it, just in case Shuri ever tried to see it.

It might be okay to show it someday, but it’s still too early now. I wanted to talk about various things after she became a bit more mature.

──Or perhaps, I myself still don’t want to accept it.

When I suddenly thought of such a thing, I heard a clattering sound from the first floor.

When I looked at the clock, it was just past midnight.

──Is he coming home today?

I let out a sigh, left the room quietly so as not to wake Shuri, and headed down the stairs.

There is one room each for me and Shuri, a room for guests when we stay over, and an empty room that used to be the couple’s bedroom on the second floor, while everything else is on the first floor. On the first floor, there is a spacious living room, a kitchen, a bath, a toilet, a laundry room, and a Japanese-style room, but the Japanese-style room is used for my dad to sleep in when he comes back.

The house is far too large for a high school student and a kindergartener to live in together. There are many rooms with no purpose.

Even my own room can only be used when I’m studying. I always sleep with Shuri.

Even though I want her to sleep alone soon, it’s still too early for preschoolers. I’m thinking of starting training her to sleep alone when she enters elementary school, but I wonder at what age this should begin. I don’t even know that.

When I came down the stairs and entered the living room, a thin, gray-haired man was sitting in front of the dining table. He was holding a picture frame with both hands and staring intently at the photo.

It’s a scene I’ve grown accustomed to seeing many times. In that picture frame, there’s a woman. My mother, and this man’s wife.

I wonder if this is a photo from before they got married. It was a photo of my mother when she was quite young.

“Dad, you’re back?”

“…Ah, Isaki. Yeah, it’s been a while.”

When Dad placed the photo face down to hide it, he gave me a weak smile.

My father should still be in his early forties by age. However, despite being in the prime of his working years, his face shows no vitality or vigor at all.

According to what I’ve heard, he works day in and day out, even sacrificing sleep. It sounds good if he says it’s to support the two of us, but what he’s really doing is just escaping from reality.

Yes, it’s an escape from my mother’s death. He has been masking that sadness with the fatigue of work. Ever since she died.

“Is there any change?”

“Not really, nothing much. I wake up in the morning, take Shuri to school, go to school by myself, pick up Shuri, come home, do various things, and then go to bed. It’s the same routine every day.”

“…I see.”

My father didn’t say anything more.

I don’t really know what kind of life my dad usually leads. He only comes home like this once or twice a week, and other than that, I don’t even know where he lives. He says to contact him if anything comes up, but I hardly ever have the chance to reach out.

He might tell me where he is if I ask. However, since I wasn’t that interested in him, I tried to avoid getting too involved.

I don’t even know if he’s living in a hotel, renting a place near the company, staying overnight at the company, or if he has another woman and is living in her place.

I’ve just listed the possibilities, but I don’t think the last one is likely. If there was a new woman, he wouldn’t still be seeking out Mom in his memories. It’s complicated for me, but I think it might be better for Dad to find a new woman.

The father I occasionally see like this has no vitality. Ever since the day my mother died, he has been living like a dead man.

Regarding the fact that he is working so hard to support both of us, I am grateful. But I also wonder if there isn’t a better way to handle things.

This person doesn’t even know who he is living for right now. Honestly, it was painful to see that.

However, no matter how I think about it, this won’t change. This man won’t respond to our calls.

I took out some tea from the refrigerator and drank it straight from the pot. Then, I turned to face my dad.

“Hey, Dad… how long are you planning to keep this up? Don’t you feel sorry for her?”

That person is Shuri, of course.

Shuri doesn’t even know that our father comes home a few times a week like this. As far as I know, she must have only met our father a handful of times. And that was when she was very little.

However, my father doesn’t answer anything. I knew that too. This exchange has been repeated so many times that it’s ridiculous to even count them.

And I know what my dad is going to say next.

“…I’m sorry.”

As expected, the words came back to me, and I gritted my teeth, slamming the refrigerator door shut.

“I’m going to bed now. You should go to bed early too. You haven’t been sleeping much anyway, right?”

“Th… thank you, Isaki. Good night.”

Without hardly seeing my father’s face, I returned to the room where Shuri was sleeping.

This is the extent of our conversations as father and son. For the past five years, we’ve only exchanged this level of words.

It was too late to change now.