Chapter 22 – The Question He Wasn’t Ready For

The first shoot ended in silence.

Not the awkward kind. The heavy kind.

Aiko sat on the floor of the set, knees drawn close, the script forgotten in her lap. The scene had been simple on paper. A mother holding her child after a nightmare. One line.

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

She had delivered it perfectly.

Too perfectly.

Because when the director called cut, her hands began to shake.

The little girl in her arms had been warm. Real. Her head had rested against Aiko’s shoulder like it belonged there. The way the child relaxed, the way her breathing softened, it felt dangerously natural.

Aiko stood up slowly.

“Are you okay?” an assistant asked.

“Yes,” Aiko answered out of habit.

She wasn’t.

Across the room, Mai clung quietly to Rin’s leg. She wasn’t her usual energetic self.

Rin noticed immediately. “You tired?”

Mai nodded. “A little.”

Rin glanced back at Aiko, who was discreetly wiping her eyes.

Something about that woman made Rin uneasy.

Too gentle. Too careful. Too broken.

“Let’s go home,” Rin said.

Mai agreed without complaint.

The apartment smelled like old wood and dinner when they returned.

Mrs. Kaneko peeked out first. “You’re late.”

“Took the kid out,” Rin replied. “Big day.”

Tetsuo leaned over the railing. “She famous yet?”

Mai shook her head seriously. “Not yet.”

He laughed.

Yuji stepped out from the kitchen, wiping his hands. “Welcome back.”

Mai ran to him immediately and hugged his waist. “Papa!”

The tension in his shoulders eased the moment he felt her. “How was today?”

“I was on a big set,” Mai said proudly. “With cameras.”

Yuji smiled. “Did you do well?”

She nodded hard.

That was enough for him.

Later that night, after Mai fell asleep, the neighbors gathered like usual.

Rin scrolled on her phone, her expression slowly changing.

“…This is strange,” she said.

Mrs. Kaneko leaned closer. “What?”

Rin turned the screen toward them.

A photo appeared.

Aiko Hoshizora.

Calm. Beautiful. Smiling for the press.

The name was written clearly beneath it.

Yuji froze.

The air in the room changed.

“That’s her,” Mrs. Kaneko said quietly.

“The actress from the drama,” Rin added. “Same name you told us.”

Yuji didn’t sit down.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he said.

No one pushed.

Much later, Yuji sat beside Mai’s futon, watching her sleep.

Her eyelashes fluttered.

Then her eyes opened.

“Papa?”

“I’m here.”

She hesitated, then asked softly, “Papa… where is my mother?”

Yuji felt something crack inside his chest.

He didn’t move. Didn’t rush.

“…Why do you ask?” he asked gently.

Mai stared at the ceiling. “Everyone at kindergarten has a mama. And today… the lady at work… she felt warm.”

Yuji closed his eyes.

“She held me like you do,” Mai continued. “Is my mother like that too?”

His throat tightened.

He sat beside her, carefully.

“Mai,” he said slowly, “your mother… is no longer here.”

Mai turned her head. “Where did she go?”

Yuji swallowed.

“She passed away,” he said quietly. “She’s in heaven.”

The word felt heavy. Permanent.

Mai stared at him, silent.

“…So she’s watching me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Yuji said. “I believe she is.”

Mai thought for a long time.

“Does she miss me?”

Yuji nodded. “Every day.”

Mai scooted closer and held his hand. “Then it’s okay.”

Yuji looked at her. “What is?”

“I have you,” she said simply. “And Mama is in heaven.”

His vision blurred.

He squeezed her hand. “That’s right. I won’t ever leave you.”

Mai yawned. “Then I’m not lonely.”

She fell asleep holding his fingers.

Yuji stayed there long after, staring at the dark ceiling.

Six years ago, he had lost everything.

Now fate had quietly brought her back into his world.

Not as a wife. Not as a mother.

But as a stranger playing a role she had once abandoned.

And in another apartment across the city, Aiko Hoshizora lay awake, unable to forget the warmth of a child she did not know was hers.

The lie had been spoken.

And one day, it would come back to demand the truth.