Inoue Hotaru, a 28-year-old novelist, reluctantly returns to her hometown for her best friend's wedding. Amidst the charming kaleidoscope of familiar faces and new beginnings, she finds herself entangled in the bittersweet reminiscences of memories...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
★彡
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝟎𝟒/𝐗𝐗/𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐
"Yeah, I'm coming back to Miyagi, mom."
Hotaru's voice rang through the room as she balanced the phone against her shoulder, deftly folding her clothes into the scarlet luggage. The cool breeze from the air conditioner brushed against her face, causing her to pause momentarily and search for the remote to adjust the temperature as she shivered slightly from the sudden cold.
"Really?" Her mother's voice rang with genuine surprise, echoing through the phone.
Hotaru paused, sensing her mother's hesitation. With a sigh, she carefully lifted her laptop from the cluttered table and nestled it onto her bed amidst the neatly folded clothes waiting in her luggage. "Why do you sound so surprised? Aren't you happy to see me?" she inquired.
"It's not that," her mother replied, her tone softening. "It's just... it's been so long since you've been back to Miyagi. I suppose I'm just taken aback." Once Hotaru graduated from high school she left for college and never came back since then, it was undeniably selfish of her and she could admit that.
"I feel like a bad daughter, sorry for not visiting you and dad," Hotaru apologized meekly, her head drooping slightly. "I'm too absorbed with my work." She couldn't shake the guilt that had settled in her chest.
Her mother let out a disappointed sigh from the other line. "It's fine to love your work, but I don't want you to marry it," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. She watched as her daughter, now nearing her thirties, seemed to be drifting further away from the life she had once known. "You're missing out on so much. I'm the only one among my friends who has no grandchildren. If I had known this would happen, I would have had another child and put all my hopes on them."
"That seems harsh for your only child," she murmured.
"Hotaru, I like the idea of grandchildren, but more than anything, I want you to be happy and not alone," her mother confessed, her voice softening with emotion. "Your father and I won't be here forever. Once we're gone, who will look after you? It scares me to think about."
