I was quite tired by this point, but that didn't stop me from greeting Dad with a polite, formal smile. "Hi, Dad. Work went well. Thanks for asking."
Dad's brow furrowed as he stared at me—almost like he couldn't even recognise the person standing in front of him. Not that I could blame him. I wasn't this formal and polite with him every day—if ever.
Knowing him, I wouldn't have been surprised if he asked what brought the change on, so I subtly flicked my eyes behind me. His eyes followed my line of sight until they landed on Uncle Hung. It was only then that he understood and didn't ask.
By the time Dad looked back, Uncle Hung had already finished smoking. He carefully stomped out the cigarette butt, extinguishing the flame, before stepping up to the driver's-side window with a giddy look.
Dad lifted a hand in a small wave. "Yo. How was work today, Hung?"
Uncle Hung leaned against the car on one arm as he spoke. "It was good. Just the usual. The work hasn't changed since you left. How about you? How's the restaurant going?"
Dad let out a small, tired sigh. "Well, it's summer. There are a lot of kids coming around these days—so it's quite busy. You wouldn't believe how many couples I've seen."
"Oh?" With the topic brought up, Uncle turned to me with a mischievous, nosy grin. "I forgot to ask—but do you have a girlfriend, Hoshino?"
"No," I replied flatly, as if the very topic hurt me.
Uncle narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. You're way too handsome to be single!" He then turned to Dad and whispered in his ear. Well, it was supposed to be a whisper—but I could hear it from where I stood.
"Hey, he isn't lying, is he?"
Dad blinked, as if confused, before letting out a loud, obnoxious laugh. "Hah! There's no way that guy could get a girlfriend! He skips classes AND is irritatingly confident—almost egotistical. What kind of girl would want him?"
Uncle laughed along. "I mean, he has good grades, AND he's good-looking. I think those two outweigh his downsides."
While the two of them were having their little talk, I swiftly made my way over to the passenger seat. With every passing second, I felt my energy slowly draining away. I just wanted to sit down somewhere comfortable as soon as possible.
The moment I stepped into the car, I was welcomed by the cool, rejuvenating breeze of the air conditioner. And with it, every thought drained out of my mind as I closed my eyes and sank into the seat.
Wow. You really don't appreciate air conditioning until you've worked outside for thirteen hours…
Dad shot me a quick glance from the corner of his eye before turning to Uncle Hung.
"It was nice talking to you, Hung, but I have to go now. My Wife's waiting on us to get home for dinner."
I found it a little strange, considering they should have eaten dinner already, but I was too tired to ask about it.
"Is that so?" Uncle said. "Then, take care. And say hi to Nana for me."
The two of them exchanged one final wave before Dad drove off.
On the way home, Dad and I didn't say much. In fact, he didn't even try to start a conversation like he usually would. We just drove down the dark road in silence. And before I knew it, my consciousness slowly faded away.
***
I slowly opened my eyes. At first, I was met with darkness. But after a few blinks, the faint glowing buttons inside the car gradually refocused themselves.
I rubbed my eyes, easing the weight of my eyelids before turning to the window. The street was lined with houses on both sides, illuminated by the dim white light of the streetlights every few meters.
"Looks like someone's finally awake," a voice called out to my left.
It took a while for my brain to process the words, but when it did, I turned to the side, staring directly at Dad, his full attention on the road.
"Yeah…"
I covered my mouth and let out a soft yawn.
Dad chuckled.
"That kind of work is hard, isn't it?" he asked.
Even though I knew he was probably just trying to teach me a lesson that money never came easily or something, it felt more like a competition to me.
"Not really," I replied, casually opening my phone. "It's pretty simple, and the money is good. So all is well."
Dad scoffed. "Really? Coming from the person who just fell asleep after his shift? Way to go, tough guy."
I simply shrugged. "Well, I didn't get much sleep yesterday. You know how I am—I always sleep late. I think the fact that I even worked this long with four hours of sleep says a lot about how great I am."
Dad opened his mouth, ready to refute my claim. Except the words didn't come out.
Using that opening, I spoke again. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
Dad frowned, hunching his back slightly. "Yeah, yeah, you're sooo good. You're just good at everything you do."
The fact that he resorted to a jab like that instead of arguing with my point proved that I'd won. While I didn't have to flaunt my victory, that didn't mean I didn't want to—especially if it was him.
"Keep crying, Old Man. That's something only losers can do."
His frown deepened, carving even more wrinkles into his face.
"Whatever," he grumbled under his breath—the sound of true resignation.
The rest of the car ride passed in silence. He was busy driving, while I was busy on my phone. Except I wasn't really doing anything. I just stared blankly at the screen, too tired to actually move my thumbs.
Eventually, we arrived home. The house was unusually quiet, like it had been emptied of all human life, with only the faint, sweet aroma of the lobster Mom made lingering in the air, the one sign the place was still lived in.
When I stepped into the living room, I noticed Mom sprawled unconscious on the sofa. It was probably one of her headache days, so I scurried up the stairs as quietly as I could. Dad followed right behind me.
The two of us split off once we reached the upstairs hallway. We gave each other a small, tired nod before Dad left for his room, while I headed for the washroom. I wanted to wash the grime off as soon as possible. I hated being dirty. And I'd been dirty for thirteen whole hours.
I spent an hour in the washroom before finally stepping out. And it was only then that I noticed the light in Lily's room had been turned off, which meant she wasn't home. I pulled out my phone and checked her location. It turned out she was at Yuka's house, which meant there wasn't anything to worry about.
If there was something to worry about, it would be my hunger. While I wasn't particularly hungry, I hadn't eaten an actual meal since… well, yesterday evening.
So, I decided to head back downstairs for a small dinner. The moment I arrived in the living room, I noticed Mom's sleeping position had changed. And that wasn't all; the aroma in the living room had grown stronger as well.
I followed the scent until my gaze finally landed on the dining table. On it were a few pieces of lobster—already shelled—and a small bowl of rice.
I turned back to Mom. She was still sleeping—just like she had when I'd come in.
If I waited any longer, the food would get cold. So I made my way over to the dining table and started to eat.
With nothing else to do while I ate, I decided it was time to finally figure one last thing out.
So… what am I supposed to do about Mei?
Or the more accurate question: how was I supposed to treat her now?
I was aware that she didn't want me to find out, which meant I'd have to hide that I did.
But then… what was I supposed to do with this information?
And could I really continue to act like I wasn't aware of what she had gone through in good faith?
I… don't know.
For the first time in a long time, I actually wasn't sure what it was I should do. It wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't just do nothing. There had to be something, maybe even a little thing, that I could do for her.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated, sending a tremor across the dinner table. I picked it up and glanced at the screen. The moment I saw who it was from, my heart started to race.
It was a text from Mei.
Ah—that's right. I never let her know I was home.
I was so tired that it slipped my mind.
After wiping my hands on a napkin, I quickly typed out my reply—answering her text and letting her know I'd made it home.
She read my text instantly. Seeing that, I scooted to the edge of my seat, waiting for her response. The moment it came, I paused.
It read:
I still wasn't sure what I should do, but at the moment, I forgot all about that. No—it wasn't accurate to say that I forgot. It was more accurate to say that I didn't care. I could figure all that out later.
My hands shot forward as I hurriedly sent my reply.