Chapter 42 – What We Failed to Protect

The wedding hall felt empty after everyone left.

Not quiet.

Empty.

Hiroshi Hoshizora stood alone near the altar, his back straight, hands clenched behind him like a man refusing to bend even as the ground cracked beneath his feet. The flowers were still perfect. The music had stopped halfway. Chairs sat untouched, witnesses to a future that would never happen.

Midori remained near the entrance.

She hadn’t followed Aiko.

She knew where her daughter needed to be.

Now, there was only one thing left to face.

Him.

“Hiroshi,” Midori said quietly.

He didn’t turn.

“You humiliated me,” he replied coldly. “In front of everyone.”

Midori walked closer, her steps slow, measured. “If humiliation is what finally woke you up,” she said, “then I don’t regret it.”

Hiroshi scoffed. “You chose that boy and that child over your own husband.”

Midori stopped a few steps behind him.

“No,” she said softly. “I chose our daughter. Something we should have done a long time ago.”

That finally made him turn.

His eyes were sharp, furious, but beneath the anger was something fractured. Something tired.

“You think this is about love?” Hiroshi snapped. “This world doesn’t run on love. It runs on power. On protection. On control.”

Midori met his gaze without flinching. “And look where your control brought us.”

Silence stretched.

“She ran,” Midori continued. “Twice. Once from us. Once from herself.”

Hiroshi’s jaw tightened. “She’s weak.”

“No,” Midori said immediately. “She’s human. Something you forgot how to be.”

Hiroshi looked away again, toward the altar.

“I did everything for this family,” he said. “Everything.”

Midori’s voice softened. “I know.”

That surprised him.

“I know how hard you worked,” she said. “I know how afraid you were of losing everything you built.”

She stepped beside him now.

“But somewhere along the way, Hiroshi… you stopped seeing Aiko as our daughter.”

He said nothing.

“You saw her as a project,” Midori continued. “A symbol. A bargaining piece.”

Hiroshi’s shoulders stiffened. “I wanted her safe.”

“Safe,” Midori repeated quietly. “Or obedient?”

That landed.

Midori looked around the hall. “Do you know what I saw today?”

Hiroshi didn’t respond.

“I saw our daughter standing alone in a wedding dress,” Midori said, voice trembling now. “Not because she chose that future… but because she was too scared to fight anymore.”

Hiroshi swallowed.

“And I saw a child,” Midori went on, tears finally slipping free, “lying in a hospital bed because adults couldn’t stop hurting each other.”

He closed his eyes.

“That child is our granddaughter,” Midori said. “Blood of our blood. And she was thrown away like a mistake.”

Hiroshi turned sharply. “I did what was necessary.”

Midori’s hand trembled, but her voice did not.

“No,” she said. “You did what was convenient.”

That broke something.

Hiroshi sank into a chair heavily, one hand covering his face.

“I was protecting Aiko,” he muttered. “From poverty. From suffering. From a man who couldn’t give her anything.”

Midori knelt in front of him.

“She didn’t need everything,” she said gently. “She needed someone who wouldn’t abandon her when things got hard.”

Her voice cracked.

“And we failed her.”

Hiroshi looked up, eyes red. “You think I don’t know that?”

Midori froze.

For the first time, she saw it.

Not anger.

Regret.

“I watched her walk out of this house years ago,” Hiroshi said hoarsely. “And I told myself it was discipline. That she’d come back grateful.”

He laughed bitterly. “She came back broken.”

Midori reached for his hand.

“We failed as a couple,” she said softly. “We stopped listening. We stopped trusting each other. We stopped trusting her.”

She squeezed his hand.

“But please,” Midori whispered, “let’s not fail as parents.”

Hiroshi’s breath shook.

“It’s not too late,” Midori continued. “She’s at the hospital right now. Scared. Facing consequences she should never have faced alone.”

He shook his head slowly. “She won’t forgive me.”

“Forgiveness isn’t something you demand,” Midori said. “It’s something you earn.”

Silence wrapped around them.

“Do you remember when Aiko was little?” Midori asked quietly. “When she used to hide behind your legs whenever she was scared?”

Hiroshi’s lips parted slightly.

“She trusted you,” Midori said. “Even when you scared her.”

Tears slid down his face without warning.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted.

Midori stood and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Then start by not breaking it further,” she said. “Let her choose. Let her fall. Let her stand back up on her own.”

She turned toward the exit.

“I’m going to the hospital,” she said. “Whether you come or not… that’s your choice.”

She paused at the door.

“But if you want to be her father again,” Midori said softly, “not the man who owns her life… then follow me.”

She left.

Hiroshi sat alone in the ruined wedding hall.

For the first time in decades, there was no one to command. No image to protect. No audience to impress.

Only a choice.

And the weight of everything he had already lost.