Chapter 10

When Uncle arrived and saw that Mom needed both of us to hold her up, he hurried over to support her.

“What happened? Should we take you to the hospital?”

“No, it's all right.”

“I'm just feeling a little unwell.”

“Take me home to rest.”

She answered weakly, leaning into her brother's arms.

“Mom, you should really go to the hospital.”

I was terribly worried.

“There's no need.”

“I don't want to go.”

“Take me home.”

In the end, we gave in.

Instead of the hospital, we took her straight home.

After helping her into bed, Uncle left.

Grandma stayed to look after us.

That night, thirst woke me.

I turned on my bedside lamp and glanced at the clock.

One thirty-five.

Grandma was sound asleep beside me.

I got out of bed quietly and went to the dining room for water.

After drinking, I turned off the light and was about to go back when a thump came from the living room.

As though something had fallen.

I looked over immediately.

The light was off in there.

I couldn't make anything out.

The sudden sound had startled me.

And in that instant, I remembered the other night.

When I'd tried to sneak away and the ghost “Mom” had been waiting in the living room.

Could Mom be in there now?

At this hour?

I shivered.

Staring anxiously into the dark room, I asked in a shaky voice, “Is... is someone there?”

“Mom?”

No answer.

Had I imagined it?

Curious as I was, I didn't dare go and check. I could only try to reassure myself.

I ignored the living room and turned toward my bedroom.

Just as I reached the door—

Thump!

Another sound of something falling came from the living room.

This time, I couldn't pretend I'd misheard.

I didn't know what was happening in there, or who was there.

I certainly didn't dare investigate alone.

The most urgent thing was to wake Grandma.

I ran the last few steps to my room and grabbed the handle.

But the door wouldn't open.

Wait.

I hadn't closed it when I went out for water.

“Grandma! Grandma!”

I didn't care that it was the middle of the night.

I shouted and pounded on the door.

She seemed unable to hear me.

There was no response.

After a moment's hesitation, I ran to Mom's room and tried her door.

It wouldn't open either.

Thump!

Another sound.

But this time, it wasn't in the living room.

It was right behind me.

Slowly, I turned.

No one was there.

I looked down.

Something was on the floor, but without the light, I couldn't see it.

Keeping my back to the wall, I felt my way to the hallway switch outside Mom's room and turned it on.

Light tore through the darkness.

My taut nerves eased a little.

On the floor lay a small Doraemon backpack.

That must have been what I'd heard falling.

“This backpack...”

I went closer and tilted my head to look.

Wasn't this the schoolbag Dad had given me for my fifth birthday?

The last birthday present he'd ever given me.

I'd always kept it safe.

Why was it here?

The sound had come from the living room, but now the bag was here.

And it had fallen several times, as though deliberately drawing me toward it.

Did it want me to pick it up?

I crouched and reached for it.

After looking carefully, I was sure.

It was mine.

There was still a little tag attached.

“May my little princess Yiyi grow up happy.”

Then a pair of men's leather shoes appeared at the edge of my vision.

I jumped to my feet and backed away until I hit the wall.

Right in front of where the backpack had fallen stood a man.

He was about thirty-five or thirty-six.

His hair was thinning slightly at the temples.

His brows were thick and straight.

His eyes were bright and lively.

“...Dad?”

I stared at him.

He was looking at me too.

He looked exactly as I remembered.

I didn't have many memories of Dad.

Only a few fragments.

But they ran deep.

“Yiyi...”

His voice was a little hoarse.

At the sound of it, my nose stung and my eyes burned.

Tears poured down my face.

That voice was so familiar and so far away.

The voice I always missed.

The first voice I'd heard every evening around six when the front door opened.

“Dad... how are you...?”

I was overwhelmed to see him again.

But why could I see someone who'd been dead for years?

“Yiyi...”

He said my name softly and came toward me.

A few steps away, he stopped.

His face suddenly grew grave.

His brows drew tightly together.

He tried to come closer.

But with every step, he looked worse.

His ordinary expression slowly drained into a deathly pallor.

At last, he stood before me.

He raised a hand to stroke my head, just as he'd done when I was little.

Every day when he got home from work, the first thing he'd done was gently pat my head.

But his hand stopped a few centimeters above it.

Then it vanished.

His whole body began breaking into points of light.

Just before he disappeared completely, he hurriedly said, “Yiyi... don't trust her!”

“Dad!”

“Dad!”

I sobbed and screamed.

There was nothing left in front of me.

Even the backpack was gone.

“Yiyi... Yiyi... wake up!”

Grandma's voice sounded beside my ear.

I opened my eyes.

Her face was in front of me.

Seeing me awake, she asked anxiously, “Why are you crying?”

“Another nightmare?”

I sat up and looked around.

My bedroom.

Grandma beside me.

So it had only been a dream.

“Grandma... I dreamed about Dad...”

Waking up and remembering that in real life I no longer had him, I was overwhelmed by grief.

I threw my arms around Grandma and burst into sobs.

Dad's hand.

He'd wanted to pat my head.

But in the end, he hadn't been able to touch me.

“Yiyi, get up! Breakfast!”

Through my drowsiness, I heard Grandma.

I opened my eyes, stretched hard, and looked toward the door.

She stood there in an apron, watching me with love in her eyes.

“Even with Grandma here, you're still sleeping in.”

Then Mom's voice joined hers.

She came to stand beside Grandma.

They smiled at each other, then turned back to me.

Seeing the two of them together in my doorway filled me with happiness.

How wonderful.

“All right, all right~ I'm getting up!”

I answered in a wheedling voice.

If I could forget all those frightening things, this would be an ordinary, simple, happy family.

After breakfast, Grandma had to return to the countryside for a few days.

She had chickens, ducks, and pigs to feed.

Before leaving, she told me to take good care of Mom.

Once she was gone, Mom began cleaning the apartment.

When I saw her mopping, I went to help.

“Mom, let me.”

“You've only just recovered. You should rest.”

“No need.”

“Go and watch TV.”

“I've been resting for days.”

“If I don't move a little, my arms and legs will waste away.”

Watching her bustle around the apartment, I thought of the old days.

This was what our everyday life had been like.

I smiled and went back to my room.

Then I took out my winter-vacation homework.

School started again in ten days.

I hadn't been in any mood to touch a book lately.

Now I had to catch up.

Toward evening, Mom cooked dinner.

We ate and chatted naturally.

She put a piece of fish in my bowl.

I looked at it and smiled.

“Your braised fish is my favorite.”

“You always bring fish when you take food to school for me.”

I lifted it to my mouth as I spoke.

Then, suddenly, I remembered something.

I stopped chewing.

I stared blankly at her.

“If you like it, have more.”

“Fish makes you smart.”

She put another piece in my bowl.

Noticing my expression, she set down her bowl and chopsticks.

“What is it?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Doesn't it taste good?”

“Oh... it's nothing.”

“It's delicious.”

I quickly looked down at my rice.

My chopsticks poked at it, but I didn't eat another bite.

I remembered.

At last, I'd remembered what had felt wrong about Mom's story on the day she woke.

She'd said that on a Sunday before winter vacation, she'd brought food to my school.

That she'd stayed with me all afternoon.

And that something had happened on her way home that evening.

But that day, she'd texted to say she'd bring me lunch.

Then something unexpected had come up.

She'd called to tell me she couldn't make it at noon and would bring dinner instead.

In other words, in my memory, Mom had only come to school that evening.

Yet the “Mom” who'd woken up said she'd arrived in the afternoon and spent the whole afternoon with me.

Could she have remembered wrong?

Or was there something else?

I didn't dare follow the thought.

I stole a glance at “Mom,” calmly eating as though nothing was wrong.

After dinner, I went to my room and locked the door.

Then I carefully thought through everything since she'd woken.

Apart from the conflicting time of her school visit and her strange behavior at Dad's grave, she'd been no different from the mother I used to know.

That night, my thoughts tangled endlessly.

I couldn't sleep.

Suddenly, I heard Mom's bedroom door open.

Then very soft footsteps.

They stopped outside my door.

I lay with my back to it, every muscle rigid.

I didn't dare move.

I was certain.

“Mom” was standing just outside.