Leaving her parents' bedroom, she found her father there.
"Papa … "
"I'm sorry."
He was leaning against the wall next to the bedroom door, smiling at her. It looked like he'd been there for quite a while. He may have arrived not long after Touko entered their bedroom.
"It's nothing."
Touko shook her head, and put her hand on her pajama collar.
It was cold in the hall, after all. She'd come running when she heard her mother's scream, so she hadn't had time to put anything else on. The air chilled her neck.
"I'm sorry."
Her dad repeated. As though apologizing that he hadn't been there for his wife's mishap.
"I went to the toilet, then thought I'd stop in at the kitchen for a nightcap."
Touko's dad took off his dressing gown and draped it over her shoulders. His familiar smell covered her body. It was warm.
"You couldn't sleep?"
" - No."
He shook his head slightly, but Touko wasn't sure whether he was telling the truth or not. Her dad wasn't much of a drinker. He would drink at work functions, but at home he rarely touched alcohol. And a nightcap? It was hard to believe.
"Is it because of me … ?"
She said, somewhat lightheartedly, and was met with a serious expression.
"Not at all."
But her mom had been having nightmares for the past month and a half. Touko had run away from home midway through December last year, so there was no way the two were completely unrelated.
Because of her mom's instability, her dad wasn't sleeping soundly either. In that case, it could be said that her dad's insomnia was Touko's fault after all.
"Like that."
Her dad mumbled, gazing at Touko.
"You're always forcing yourself to fit in. We were so stupid, we never suspected that when you were behaving like a spoiled child, or being willful, that it was you acting the part of an innocent daughter."
He looked forlorn.
"You too, papa. You read too much into things."
It was hard on Touko, knowing that she was the one who caused him to have such an expression, when usually he covered her in a warm smile.
"I've never for a moment thought that I was forcing myself. I'm sure that was all me. My personality took that shape because that's the sort of person I wanted to be."
That was all she could say at this point.
She had been the one to destroy the balance within their family. She didn't want to tell a lie that would only patch things over on the surface.
Even if it were to be mended, it could never return to the way it was before. She didn't want things fixed if that just meant that the destruction had been in vain.
"Back then, that argument seemed to come as quite a shock to mama."
Her dad said, looking towards the bedroom.
"On the other hand, I thought it was a good thing. Because if you hadn't hit us with your feelings, we may never have known the screaming in your heart."
Touko's hands naturally moved to cover her chest, as though guided by the phrase, "the screaming in your heart."
Thinking back, it had always kind of felt like her suppressed emotions were shouting, "Let me out of here."
I'm here.
Notice me.
It's not like I can't think for myself.
I'm only pretending to not see anything, to not hear anything.
"I don't know how long you've known, but it must have been a heavy burden for you to bear alone at your age. It's better that we, your parents, carry it."
But what now, now that the dam had burst? Having spewed forth her feelings, all that remained was a large hole in her heart, and self-loathing.
The end result was that she'd driven off her mom and made her dad worry. Had it really been necessary for her to let those feelings out?
She didn't know.
Why had she said those things?
Had she thrown out those harsh words, contrary to her feelings?
"That's why, even now, I still agree with grandpa's decision."
Touko's father looked her straight in the eye.
"You should paint your own life on a blank canvas, without worrying about anyone else … That wish of mine, it's not tossing you aside. Do you understand?"
Touko didn't respond to that. No, she wasn't able to respond.
Above all, she never doubted that her parents loved her. But, if that were the case, didn't it mean that Touko wasn't necessary.
"Papa."
Instead of responding, Touko asked a question.
"Isn't everything in this world give and take?"
"Huh?"
"Is it okay to just take and take?"
"… What are you saying?"
Her dad asked, looking perplexed.
"Touko has nothing to give back."
Taking off the dressing gown, she held it out to her father. He accepted it, then looked gently into her eyes.
"Don't be silly. Mama, grandpa, and I have already received so much from you, Touko."
"Really?"
"Of course."
Smiling at that statement, Touko walked off down the corridor.
"Touko. I'm really grateful to you."
Touko's dad called out as she walked away, then he opened the door to the bedroom where her mom was sleeping. She didn't turn around. But she could tell that he would watch over her until she returned to her own room.
Even though she was receiving so much love.
She had nothing to give back.
(We've already received so much from you, Touko.)
Her father had said there was, "so much," but she couldn't think of a single thing.
The hallway felt uncomfortably long.