Why did she shed those tears?
The reason was that elusive emotion called "love."
Craving love but not knowing its shape, she wanted to experience it; not knowing how to give it, she longed for it all the more.
To her, "lies" were synonymous with "love," for she had spent her entire life projecting love through a carefully crafted facade. She did so because she truly did not understand what the feeling actually was.
She was terrified that her "I love you" was nothing more than a hollow lie. She labeled her own affection as something born of falsehoods, but in truth, not a single one of her lies contained a drop of genuine deception.
She simply didn't know how to love.
But now, she felt as though she finally understood.
It was an exchange of emotions.
She realized that love was something forged through the act of mutual giving and receiving.
Yet, the moment she grasped this truth, a sudden fear took hold.
Even if she gave love, what if the love returned by the one who cherished her wasn't "truth"? Having lived her entire life as a liar, she understood better than anyone how deeply a human being could deceive another. She was afraid.
However, she knew that if she didn't stop hiding behind those defensive lies, nothing would change, even if she finally understood the nature of love.
Would that man, who always spoke the truth, leave her if he ever saw her unsightly or dark side?
Could he stay by her side even if he knew the real her—a girl woven from lies?
That was why she had wept upon hearing his performance.
It felt like music that would embrace her, no matter what shameful secrets she harbored.
Through his music, she believed she had finally received "love" from him.
'Could he be the one to make me sincere?'
.
.
.
.
.
.
I brought over some tissues and wiped the tears from her face, speaking with a playful smirk.
"If you keep crying, Santa won't bring you any presents this Christmas, you know?"
"Eh—? Ai isn't a little kid who falls for that kind of thing!"
"Sure, sure. I believe you."
She could be a handful at times, but from my perspective—having lived well into my thirties in my previous life—the antics of a thirteen-year-old were easy to dismiss as cute. To be honest, she felt like a daughter I had gained later in life.
Seeing her so much brighter than when we first met filled me with a poignant sense of pride. Conversely, whenever she suffered due to her own nature, I felt the same heartache one feels for their own child.
"I’ll buy you ice cream after rehearsal. Your favorite, Häagen-Dazs."
"Really?! You mean it?!"
"Yeah."
"Can I get more than one?!"
Seeing how quickly her mood shifted—where had that pitiful, sobbing child gone?—I let out a faint, amused chuckle.
'Does she really love Häagen-Dazs that much?'
Regardless, seeing her happy again filled me with satisfaction. When you smile, I feel good, too.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register