Dad's POV:
I watched as my son moved away from me and towards the front door. My hand twitched, but I firmly held it in place.
A slight frown formed on my face. I've been getting this peculiar feeling recently whenever I watch my kids leave. The older they get, the more they start feeling out of reach. Especially my son. It fills me with a strange sense of emptiness, but I never have it in me to stop them. No, that's not it…
I have no right to stop them…
My son grabbed the doorknob and made his way outside, closing the door behind him. The sound of Hoshino closing the front door lingered in the room.
My wife didn't do anything, so I couldn't either. But that didn't stop the guilt from eating me on the inside. At times when it matters the most, I can never bring myself to do anything. And yet… my son can.
A tight pressure swelled within my chest. Unable to contain it anymore, I let out a hollow sigh, breaking the silence.
What a joke of a Dad…
I hung my head low while sparing a glance at my wife. She was still standing there, unmoving. Her eyes stared blankly at the space in front of her. After being married for 30 years, I could tell that she was hurt, scared, and alone. I tried to speak as gently as I could.
"Don't you think you went a little too far?"
Her body flinched, a sign that she had snapped out of her daze. Her face turned to me; her expression contorted from wrath to sadness to confusion in an endless cycle. She opened her mouth to say something, but stammered, struggling to form proper words. I waited patiently with a gentle smile– not because I was, but because I had to be. Finally, she spoke.
"We-went too far? What does that mean?!"
On her face was now a look of rage, with nothing else. She clenched her trembling fists tightly. I could almost see the blood drain from her hands.
"How did I go too far?! I just want what's best for my daughter?!"
She took a step closer to me, screaming in my face. But my smile never wavered.
"Is it worth doing that if it makes them unhappy?"
"They may be unhappy now, but they'll thank me later!"
Tears started forming in her eyes at this point. She clutched at her blouse as she continued.
"Take a look at Lily now! She used to hate it when I put makeup on her! She would cry and complain nonstop, telling me how she would never do it! But now look! Every morning, she goes and does it herself!"
Although my wife was definitely extreme with the way she did things, she was, in her own twisted way, right. Everything she did was for our kids' future, whether it made them happy or not. And at the same time, who am I to judge her? People live trying to enforce what they think is right on other people. I am no exception to that. If anything, I'm even worse than she is.
She stomped her foot on the ground, dragging my mind back to the conversation. Her stomp sent waves of vibration up my chair and into my body.
"SO DO NOT TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY KIDS! EVERYTHING I DO IS TO-"
My wife's voice cut out, the words stuck in her throat. Her hand grasped her neck, her breath came out in raspy, broken gasps, and she suddenly collapsed onto her knees. My wife covered her mouth while coughing violently. Her body spasmed as she tried to gasp for air. I quickly got up from my seat and ran to her side. The sound of my rapidly beating heart drowned out the sounds of her coughs.
Not again!
I picked her up, swiftly carried her to the couch, and set her down gently. I grabbed a blanket that was nearby and pulled it over her body. She was breathing loud, raspy breaths. Sweat was forming on her pale face.
I ran to the kitchen counter and grabbed one of her many bottles of medication. Even though we had countless bottles lying there, I found the one she needed with ease. I quickly made my way back to her and fed her the medicine.
My eyebrows creased as I looked at her worriedly. She… didn't seem to be getting better. I kneeled beside her, grabbed her hand with both of mine, and put it on my head. I prayed with everything I had.
Please… not like this!
I don't know how much time had passed, but my knees felt like they were bruised. I let go of my wife's hand and slowly pushed myself up. I glanced down at my wife. Her breathing slowly stabilized, and her body gradually eased up into the couch. I let out a sigh of relief after making sure she was okay.
Thank goodness…
But when relief came, guilt surged.
What do you have to feel relieved about, old man?
A voice that sounded like… my sons… rang in my ears.
My arms weakly fell to my side.
That's right… Who am I to condemn her?
I know better than anyone how hard she's worked for this family, with the state she's always in. Meanwhile I… I can't save anything. All I do is take from my kids and take from my wife.
I looked down at my hands; they were shaking. I knew my hands were clean, but it still felt like there were invisible stains that would never go away…