By the stream, the man laid his coat on the grass and let Lia sit on it. Lia took a sandwich from the basket and held it out to him. When he didn’t take it, her wide eyes quickly turned into a tearful pout.
“Just one… I’ll just have one.”
The man took the sandwich Lia handed him, turned it over to get to the dirty side, brushed it off and took a bite. Just as he began to chew, Lia spoke.
“Hey, you know…”
The man nodded slightly, still chewing. Lia finished the last bite in her mouth and swallowed before continuing.
“Are you my father?”
A simple question, innocent yet bold, as befits a child. The man, caught off guard, choked on his food, coughing violently. Lia, unfazed, calmly reached into the basket and handed him a bottle of water.
The man’s throat bore a long scar that ran halfway across its width. Before Lia could study it too closely, he adjusted his collar to hide the mark. After a long moment, he finally stopped coughing and spoke gain.
“No.”
“Then you are my mom’s friend?”
Where did a child learn such language? The man was at a loss for words, stunned by her audacity.
“We only knew each other a little in the past.”
“Can I ask Mom about it?”
“No.”
The man’s evasive answer made Lia smile, one corner of her mouth lifting. It was an expression that was strangely familiar, but not because it resembled the woman he subconsciously compared Lia to. No, it was a smile he’d seen somewhere else – his own, reflected in the mirror.
Lia’s barrage of questions continued for a long time after that. Where do you live? Where do you come from? Are you leaving soon? The endless stream of questions received no real answers from the man. Lia pouted in frustration.
“If you answer my questions, I’ll answer yours about me.”
She offered, her tone suggesting that she was being generous, even though she was essentially holding him hostage with her persistence. Children naturally assume others want what they want.
The man shook his head with a slight smile.
“I have nothing to be curious about.”
“Aren’t you curious about my mom?”
Lia blinked her big eyes, full of confidence, as if it was only natural for the man to be curious. If he continued to let that little devil steer the conversation, it would never end. The man tried his best to keep a stern expression on his face.
“Lia, I don’t know what you’re misunderstanding, but…”
“My mom is super popular, you know.”
Her innocent yet assertive reply left the man speechless once again. The sound of the stream, which had been quiet before, now seemed unusually loud in the silence.
Finding a way to end the conversation without hurting Lia or revealing too much seemed like an impossible task. Especially for a man not used to dealing with children.
When the man hesitated, Lia opened her mouth again with an air of exaggerated arrogance.
“Let’s just say there’s nothing between you and my mother.”
“There’s no ‘let’s say’ – there really isn’t.”
“Well, let’s just say that’s the case.”
“Alright…”
Who on earth could this girl have taken after? No wonder the older woman looking after Lia looked so tired.
Lia flashed the same mischievous smile she had shown earlier, one that looked a little too cunning for a child.
“Shall I set you two up?”
“No.”
“My mom’s really pretty, you know.”
It wasn’t just Lia’s opinion – her mother was very popular.
In the remote and tiny village, everyone was connected by blood or marriage. In such a place, an outsider who was both young and beautiful would naturally stand out. What was the saying? Having one or two children wasn’t even considered a fault.
Of course, such remarks did not sit well with Lia, who had herself been unfairly treated as a ‘fault’. It had come to the point where her mother avoided going to the village because she felt so uncomfortable. Every night she whispered to Lia how precious she was.
Perhaps that was inevitable in such a remote mountain village. How tactless must the adults have been for a child to talk about her mother like that? The man sighed again.
“I’m really not someone who is interested in your mother.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
At the man’s firm declaration, Lia tilted her head in confusion. Her lingering doubt came not only from the man’s earlier missteps, but also from the world she had always known – a world where everyone seemed to have an angle.
“Everyone who’s nice to me is only interested in my mother.”
The man’s expression softened with a hint of sadness. A child who had already learned loneliness, who lived in the shadows – he found it heartbreaking. All the more so when it was partly his fault.
“There are people who are kind to you only because they like you, not because of your mother.”
He hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t let her get attached. But in the end, he lost the battle with himself.
Defeated, the man laid his hand gently on the girl’s soft hair, patting it lightly. The oversized ribbon bobbed under his touch. Seeing her bright smile, the tension in his gaze eased.
Lia, her mood quickly brightening, fired off another question.
“Why is your hair white, Mister?”
Children, with their pure curiosity, often asked such blunt questions without malice. The man, unsure how to answer, let out a small chuckle instead.
“Can I touch it?”
Before he could answer, Lia’s hand reached out first. The small hand hovered near the strands of hair that fell across his forehead, fidgeting slightly. The man nodded slightly, allowing her to do so.
At first, Lia stroked his hair gently, as if caressing it. Then suddenly, with a flick of her hand, she brushed his fringe aside and tilted her small head forward, bringing her face right up to his. Their eyes met at a distance of less than a handspan.
“Mister, what colour do you think my eyes are?”
“Purple.”
“Right? Everyone says I must have got them from my mother, but she always says they’re different. My eyes are redder, don’t you think?”
Lia blinked her eyes deliberately, as if daring him to take a closer look.
Liatriis was quite a clever girl. In truth, anyone could have figured it out without being particularly clever. The truth was undeniable when confronted with a mirror-like colour right in front of them.
The man closed his eyes, almost as if fleeing from the sight. Lia, unimpressed, stepped back and began rummaging through the basket. By the time the man forced his eyes open, she was halfway through another sandwich.
Unnoticed, the man reached out and patted her head again. Lia smiled brightly and spoke again.
“Mom always said my eyes were prettier than hers.”
The man nodded. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the lump in his throat blocked any sound. His fingers, running through her soft hair, hovered near the corner of her eye.
The warm summer breeze that brushed against the girl seemed to sweep through the man’s chest as well. The ice that had been clumsily thawing around his heart melted completely, spilling out as water, escaping beyond his control.
Suddenly, a large hand pulled Lia close and her nose hit the man’s chest with a soft thud. Surprised, she found herself wrapped in his arms. His chest was broad and firm, but trembling slightly.
Lia squirmed and burrowed deeper into his embrace. The steady pounding of his heartbeat echoed in her ears, filling her with the same comfort she felt when held in her mother’s arms.
“Aren’t you curious about my mom?”
The man tightened his embrace, as if afraid that the warmth in his arms would disappear. He didn’t loosen his grip until the girl, gasping for breath, started tapping on his chest with her small, soft fists.
When the man had woken up alive in an unfamiliar place, he had been filled with anger. The anger had grown as he realised that the way he had been spared – tools exchanged for weapons – was eerily similar to the cruel choices he had once made.
But there was no need to confront anyone. He was free now. Free to choose death whenever he wanted. It was a strangely liberating thought, as if he were already dead in spirit.
Then he thought – just once. And once became twice, then thrice, then more. Which brought him to this moment.
Only now did he understand. The reason why the woman who had once wanted to die more than anyone else was still alive. That being alive might one day bring a moment of gratitude for that fact.
Some say that an end is simply a new beginning, but it had never been that way for him. He had neither the courage nor the right to believe that it could be. Hope, a future – these were luxuries he had never been allowed to dream of. Not until they appeared before him, arms outstretched.
Where the chirping of the little bird would lead him, no one could know.
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sakura_blooms
No this open ending for all of those moment i endure while reading this feels so bitter.
Is there even a possibility for these two live together in any future! Does that even possible.