Chapter 27 – Where He Stood

Yuji called Rin because he couldn’t sleep.

It was past midnight. Mai was curled beside him on the futon, her small hand gripping his shirt like she was afraid he might disappear. She had cried quietly after the shoot, not loudly, not dramatically. Just silent tears that soaked into his sleeve.

Yuji stared at the ceiling, heart tight.

“Rin,” he said the moment she answered. “Tell me the truth. How is Mai?”

There was a pause.

“She’s… confused,” Rin said carefully. “She keeps asking if she did something wrong.”

Yuji sat up slowly. His jaw clenched.

“What happened on set?”

Rin hesitated. “The scene was heavy. Too heavy. She had to ask Aiko why she left her. Aiko broke down. She left the shoot.”

Yuji closed his eyes.

That line again.

Why did you leave me?

He pressed his thumb into his palm until it hurt.

“I’m coming,” he said.

“Yuji, wait—”

The call ended.

He dressed Mai gently, not waking her fully. She stirred, blinking up at him.

“Papa… where are we going?”

“To pick something important,” he said softly. “Just trust me.”

The studio was still busy when Yuji arrived. Lights were on. Crew members moved around quietly, tired but focused.

The moment he stepped inside, people noticed.

Whispers followed him.

Yuji didn’t slow down.

Then he saw her.

Mai was sitting on a small chair near the cameras, hugging her stuffed rabbit tightly. Her legs dangled, not swinging like usual.

“Mai,” Yuji called.

Her head snapped up.

“Papa!”

She ran to him, almost tripping in her hurry. Yuji caught her and lifted her into his arms, holding her close. He felt how light she was. Too light.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Her face buried into his shoulder.

The director stood up, startled. “Sir, you can’t just—”

“She’s leaving,” Yuji said calmly. “Now.”

The room went still.

Rin rushed over. “Yuji, please—”

“No,” he said. “This ends today.”

The director tried to smile, professional but strained. “I understand emotions are high, but this project means a lot. And Mai has been wonderful. Aiko-san truly—”

Yuji’s eyes lifted slowly.

“Don’t say her name,” he said quietly.

The air changed.

Mai shifted in his arms. “Papa…”

He looked down immediately. “What is it?”

Mai hesitated, then spoke softly. “I like being here.”

His heart cracked a little.

“You do?”

She nodded. “I like acting. And… I like the lady.”

Yuji’s chest tightened.

“What lady?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Aiko,” Mai said. “She’s kind to me. She listens. She cries easily.”

A few people turned away, pretending not to hear.

Yuji felt the weight of the room press down on him.

“Papa,” Mai continued, voice small but honest, “is it bad that I like her?”

Yuji closed his eyes.

This was the moment he had feared.

“No,” he said finally. “It’s not bad.”

Mai smiled, relief flooding her face.

The director seized the moment. “You see? This connection is rare. We can be careful. We can adjust the script—”

Yuji looked back up.

“She’s not quitting,” he said.

Rin exhaled sharply.

“But,” Yuji continued, “I will be here.”

The director blinked. “Here?”

“Every shoot,” Yuji said. “Every scene. Every break.”

Murmurs spread.

“If I say stop,” Yuji added, “it stops. If my daughter cries, we walk. If she gets confused, we walk. No arguments.”

The director nodded quickly. “Agreed.”

Yuji looked down at Mai again. “You tell me everything. Even if you think I’ll be angry.”

Mai nodded seriously. “I promise.”

Yuji hugged her tightly, pressing his cheek to her hair.

In the hallway, Aiko stood frozen.

She had heard everything.

She watched Yuji protect Mai without raising his voice. Without anger. Just quiet, unshakable love.

Her chest ached.

Yuji finally noticed her.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Aiko took a hesitant step forward. “Yuji… thank you. For protecting her.”

He didn’t soften.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

Mai peeked over Yuji’s shoulder. “Aiko.”

Aiko smiled, tears in her eyes. “Hi.”

Yuji adjusted his grip slightly, a silent boundary.

“We’re done for today,” he said to the crew.

As he turned to leave, Mai waved. “Bye!”

Aiko raised her hand slowly. “See you next time.”

Yuji didn’t look back.

But as he walked out with Mai, her small hand warm in his, his heart felt different.

Not healed.

But steadier.

Because even in a place filled with old wounds, his daughter had smiled.

And for now, that was enough.