Accidentally become a father Chapter 10: The Distance That Began to Shrink

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"You didn’t?"

I looked at her.

"I said she was pretty and had a nice voice."

"Just that?"

"That’s enough."

She fell silent.

Stared at her own hands resting on the futon.

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"If you liked Mama, maybe I wouldn’t have had to co here."

Her tone was light.

But a little too light.

I leaned back on my hands.

"If I liked your Mama, my life would probably be a lot more complicated."

She whipped her head around.

"Why?"

"Because wildly popular people usually bring a lot of noise with them."

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"Am I noisy?"

"Not yet."

She let out a small sigh.

Then lay back down on her futon.

Staring at the ceiling.

The room now held two people staring upward from two different spots.

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And the arm’s length of space between us felt like an invisible line that we were slowly testing.

The main light was still on.

I sat up slightly and reached for the wall switch.

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"What ti is lights out?" Yuna asked.

"Now."

Click.

The room plunged into dimness.

dark.

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Yuna was still lying down, but her eyes were open.

"Do you usually sleep early?" I asked.

"If I’m told to."

"Nobody’s telling you to right now."

She was quiet for a mont.

"What if I don’t sleep?"

"You still have to wake up tomorrow."

"What for?"

"To live."

She turned her head slightly toward .

"Do you always answer like that, Papa?"

"Long answers are exhausting."

A brief silence.

The sound of a passing car echoed in the distance.

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"You didn’t ask about Mama," she said softly.

"I know enough."

"Aren’t you curious?"

"I know she’s an idol. That alone explains why your life is so complicated."

"Aren’t you mad, Papa?"

"At what?"

"Because you suddenly have a child."

I stared at the ceiling.

"If I were mad, what would change?"

She didn’t answer right away.

"You could have just rejected ."

"I could have."

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"You could have sent away."

"I could have."

Her voice grew smaller.

"But you didn’t."

I let out a soft sigh.

"You showed up with official docunts. That takes a lot of effort."

"That wasn’t ."

"I know."

She went quiet.

Truly quiet this ti.

Not the kind of silence waiting for a response.

But the kind of silence of soone who had lost their script.

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"I don’t like acting," I said suddenly.

She stiffened slightly.

"I know you’re smart," I continued. "You can give quick answers. Put on the right expressions. Look tough."

Silence.

"But this is a small apartnt. There are no caras here."

She didn’t move.

"If you’re tired of being a good kid, then don’t be."

The blue light from outside was just enough to show the thin line of her tense shoulders.

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"I don’t have to be a good kid?"

"Just don’t beco a criminal."

That drew a short breath from her, almost like a laugh.

Then—

A small voice.

Very small.

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"Papa."

I waited for the correction to leave my mouth.

It didn’t.

I simply replied,

"Hm?"

"If I get a little noisy... can I still stay?"

I closed my eyes.

"As long as you don’t use a gaphone."

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A few seconds of silence.

Then, the soft rustle of fabric.

As if she had rolled over to face .

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"Good night, Papa."

The inflection was different this ti.

Not a statent.

Not a strategy.

More like an experint.

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I opened my eyes a fraction.

The ceiling remained plain white.

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"Good night."

No correction.

No rejection.

Just two gray futons in a small Tokyo apartnt.

And an arm’s length of space that felt just a little bit shorter than before.

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