"What happened? You look upset. Did something happen in the room—an argument, perhaps?"
Adding a bit of oil and seasoning, Yoko placed the ball of minced meat in her palm onto the cutting board and gently kneaded it. When her daughter, Sekai walked over and stood beside her, Yoko glanced sideways at the girl's gloomy expression and asked casually, but with concern.
Sekai bit her lip slightly as she stood beside her mother, watching the gentle motion of her mother's hands kneading the meat. Meeting her mother's sideways glance, she lowered her gaze and looked down.
"…It's nothing. It's got nothing to do with you, Mom. I'm just… not in a great mood."
"You don't look like someone who's just 'not in a great mood.' It's all over your face: 'I'm upset,' 'I'm really bothered.' Could it be something I said earlier that upset Haruto?"
"I told you, it has nothing to do with you. In his eyes, whatever you do—it's irrelevant."
"…'Irrelevant,' huh?"
Yoko caught onto that one word immediately. Her gaze sharpened as she looked at her daughter, then at the way Sekai had suddenly gone quiet and lowered her head. She could guess what had happened.
Having worked in the restaurant business for years, Yoko had seen all kinds of people and relationships. How could she not see through her own daughter's emotional turmoil?
"Are you upset… because he doesn't care about you?"
Sekai didn't answer. She silently peeled the onion skins, distancing herself as she worked—one layer at a time—then sliced them finely with a small knife.
"…I see."
Yoko turned her gaze toward the living room, where Haruto sat on the couch, watching TV with a blank look—clearly distracted. She looked back at Sekai, who was quietly chopping vegetables, and a slight smirk tugged at her lips.
Truthfully, she didn't know the full extent of her daughter's feelings. She only recently learned about Haruto through Sekai's brief mentions, and her own curiosity had been piqued. Feeling a bit lonely herself, she'd simply wanted to indulge for once, to see what made the boy so interesting.
To Yoko, Haruto was never more than an amusing young man—perhaps even just a stress-relief tool. There were no real feelings involved.
She had been curious, though—why would her daughter, knowing about his complicated ties to the Mai's daughter, still cling to him?
But now, it seemed that Haruto had little to no romantic interest in Sekai. Was it all one-sided? Just her daughter desperately chasing someone who didn't return her feelings?
"I thought there was something more complicated going on between you two. But it's just that simple, huh? Then what about Mai's daughter—Setsuna? Why didn't she stop you?"
"I don't know."
Agitated, Sekai slammed the knife against the cutting board with a loud clang, shot her mother a sharp glare, and transferred the sliced onions into a bowl before returning to chopping other vegetables.
"Do you really like him that much?"
"…I don't know."
The same answer, but this time, it was layered with tangled emotion. Sekai herself no longer knew how she felt about Haruto. Her emotions were a swirl of frustration and unwillingness to lose—especially when it came to Setsuna.
"Are you happy when you're with him?"
"…Yeah."
"Then that means you like him."
"…"
Sekai glanced at her mother. Yoko was smiling brightly, and Sekai couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just teasing. Unsure of how to respond, she silently handed the chopped vegetables to her mother.
Yoko poured them into the hot pan and began to stir-fry them.
"If you like him, then find a way to make him yours. I gave up on that useless man in my past, but Haruto seems like the kind of guy who'd take responsibility for his family. Marry him, and you won't have to worry about him abandoning you."
"…Huh?"
Sekai blinked, confused and clearly flustered by her mother's abrupt comment. She frowned deeply, trying to hide her embarrassment.
"I raised you as a single mother. But that doesn't mean you have to follow the same path. I don't want you ending up like me."
Sekai didn't respond. She just lowered her head and focused on her cooking. Meanwhile, Yoko's eyes wandered back to Haruto in the living room.
"I'll help you… so you don't walk the same path I did."
Haruto, sitting on the couch, suddenly sensed someone staring at him. He looked up to meet Yoko's gentle smile, but something about her gaze made his skin crawl.
He returned her look with one of mild confusion.
"Dinner will be ready soon. Please wait a little longer," she said, smiling warmly.
"No… it's okay. Don't worry about me."
He politely waved his hand, still unsure of what to make of Yoko's expression. Deep down, he began pondering how to subtly distance himself from her.
One Saionji was already difficult enough—he didn't need to get entangled with another.
"He seems like a calm and gentle boy," Yoko murmured to herself, looking down at her daughter again. "With a bit of effort, someone like him would be easy to win over. So how did you lose to Setsuna?"
Her question, more to herself than anyone else, clearly made Sekai even more annoyed.
How could she answer that?
Was she supposed to say that Setsuna confessed first, and she got caught sneaking around?
That time, after being rejected by someone she'd just met, she'd lost all confidence. She was still a girl, after all. How could she muster up the courage to confess again?
Thinking back to it now, Sekai felt a strange admiration toward Setsuna—despite being rejected, she still pushed forward without hesitation.
That was the difference between them…
Preparing a simple dinner didn't take long, but making a delicious and hearty meal required time. Luckily, Yoko had already started prepping in the afternoon.
"I remember Sekai mentioning that you're not fond of strong flavors, so I made things on the lighter side. Hope it suits your palate."
"I don't exactly dislike strong flavors… It's just that too much oil can be overwhelming."
When the dinner was finally served, Haruto sat at the table with the two women. Seeing the beautiful spread before him, he was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't just traditional Japanese dishes—there were Western touches too. Knowing Yoko ran a restaurant, it made sense.
"How's the flavor?"
"Alright then—itadakimasu."
He picked up a piece of potato from the simmered chicken and potato dish, placed it in his mouth, and felt the soft, piping-hot texture melt on his tongue. He stared down at the dish, frowning slightly in thought.
"Well? What do you think?"
"It's delicious. I've never had it before, but the flavor is wonderful."
"You've never had it?"
"No… It feels like a home-cooked dish, right?"
He looked at Yoko curiously. At home, his mother only made a few simple dishes. His grandmother wasn't much of a cook either. Tired of eating the same food every day, he'd taken up cooking himself and often tried new recipes from cookbooks.
But he'd never seen this one before. The world was full of recipes—even cookbooks couldn't cover them all.
"It's a dish from my family-style restaurant. I'm glad you like it."
"Could you teach me how to make it?"
"Of course."
Sekai, sitting silently nearby, ate her food quietly as the two chatted about cooking. She had no idea what to say or how to join in.
"There's also teriyaki chicken, braised chicken, stir-fried chicken… Would you be interested in learning more?"
"I know how to make teriyaki, but I'm not familiar with the others."
"Then come to my restaurant sometime. It's hard to explain by words alone—much easier if I show you. I'll give you a live demo."
"Wouldn't that be too much trouble?"
"Not at all. Just have Sekai bring you over."
"…Alright. Then I'll look forward to it."
"Just call me Yoko."
Seeing her mother and Haruto talk so animatedly, Sekai lost all appetite. She quietly put down her chopsticks and stood up.
The movement caught both Yoko and Haruto's attention.
"Sekai?"
"I'm done. I'm going back to my room."
Without another word, she left the dining room and went upstairs.
Yoko and Haruto sat in awkward silence until Sekai's door closed.
"…Don't worry. Let her cool off a bit," Yoko said lightly.
"I'll go check on her."
Haruto glanced at Yoko, then got up. He knew Sekai must've felt left out and ignored. That was probably why she stormed off.
He couldn't just sit there and pretend nothing happened.
He put down his chopsticks and walked quietly to Sekai's room. Entering softly, he saw her lying on the bed with her arm covering her eyes.
Hearing his footsteps—heavier than her mother's—Sekai peeked through the crook of her elbow and saw Haruto standing at the side of her bed.
Their eyes met for a moment before she turned her head and pulled her arm back over her face.
"…Sorry."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"No, it's my fault. I was too caught up talking with your mom… I should've paid more attention to how you were feeling."
"You two were just talking about perfectly normal things… and yet I let myself get sulky over it… How childish of me. I acted like that and ended up troubling both of you…"
Sekai muttered in a voice tinged with guilt and self-reproach, still lying on the bed, arm draped over her eyes.
Haruto had initially wanted to comfort her more, but after a moment of reflection, he realized that continuing down this path might just make the whole situation feel overly sentimental and awkward.
He lowered his gaze and quietly observed Sekai—her delicate figure resting on the bed, her body curled slightly, vulnerable.
Then, suddenly, his lips curved into a subtle smile—
_ _ _ _ _