Was he very angry?
I couldn’t help but think that.
“I came to inform you that the chairman had to leave urgently on a business trip.”
“The chairman… Ah, yes.”
For a moment, I was confused about who the secretary, whom I had seen a few times, was referring to as the chairman. Then I remembered that I was the only one who still called him the director. To me, the chairman was still the person who had been my mom’s husband. Calling that man the chairman still felt unfamiliar, and he hadn’t tried to correct my title for him, making the adjustment even slower.
“He will be away for a few days. If you need anything, please contact me.”
I took the business card the secretary handed me out of obligation. He had several secretaries: those who assisted with his work, those who looked after his personal affairs, and those who handled minor issues. Although his secretaries often visited the house, I rarely ran into them because he had a separate room where he received reports, and I mostly stayed in my room or the study. This was my first time having a conversation with one of his secretaries, so I awkwardly stared at the business card.
“Well then. Please have a good day.”
The secretary left as soon as he finished his business. I placed the business card on the dining table and let out a sigh.
There was no need to make a big deal out of this card. Even though we lived in the same house, it wasn’t like I saw him every day or had meals with him every day. In reality, he wasn’t someone who had the time to share two meals a day with me regularly. His dinners were mostly tied to his work, so it was more common for us not to eat together. Business trips were the same. It was not unusual for him to be away from home for a day or two. Me being alone in the house wasn’t a big deal, even without someone to remind me of his absence.
What made it uncomfortable was that, without finding the reason for the dull ache in my heart, the days I couldn’t see him were getting longer. It wasn’t like he went on a business trip to avoid me, but I still felt like my heart was shrinking.
I stared at the business card on the dining table for a long time. Leaving it there, I got up from my seat. There probably wouldn’t be anything urgent enough to require me to contact his secretary.
And I didn’t need someone else’s contact information.
My mobile phone had never rung even once. The only contact saved in it was that man’s, and because I rarely left the house, the phone was even more useless. I never contacted him, and neither did he. He conveyed his messages through his secretary instead of directly contacting my phone. Even so, I…didn’t want to contact someone else to relay a message to him.
I went straight to my room and picked up my phone. I forgot that the battery was low from being neglected. I plugged in the charger. Even though charging it fully wouldn’t make a difference, it was comforting to keep it from shutting off. I stared blankly at the green light indicating the battery was charging. I sat there quietly until the screen turned black automatically, without moving.
During the several days when I was acutely aware of his absence, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake at night, feeling a palpable sense of loneliness and emptiness.
I had felt similar before. When I could sleep comfortably in his study, it wasn’t because the place was cool, calm, and peaceful but perhaps because I expected the warmth of another person from not far away.
You could only realize what you had lost only after it’s gone. If he was intentionally trying to make me feel his absence, he completely succeeded. Of course, he wasn’t someone who would fabricate his business work for some purpose, nor was he thoughtless enough to adjust his schedule just because of me.
Thus this emptiness was entirely mine to bear.
To endure the loneliness, I chose to stay in his study, where I could feel his presence in every corner. I did my homework at the table where he used to sit, then I read books on the sofa when I got bored. I spent all my time in his study, except for the tutoring sessions, and slept on the sofa like I did when I first met him when I was seventeen.
Humans were indeed fragile. Despite living an unknowing life full of loneliness and solitude, they would easily become weak after experiencing a fleeting moment of warmth. Similarly, the human body was deceitful. After getting used to the sofa in the study, which felt incredibly comfortable compared to my previous lifestyle of sleeping on the floor, I found myself tossing and turning in my bed, which was even more cosy.
Still, even though I woke up a few times during the night, staying in the blue study was better. It was even more so when that man wasn’t home. No matter how comfortable my bed was, I couldn’t sleep in my room, but I could still fall asleep in the study, even if I tossed and turned in the middle of the night.
Contrary to my expectation that he would return in three or four days, a week had passed since the secretary informed me of his trip.
I dozed off from the morning. The lack of sleep from tossing and turning all night caught up with me. I had been sitting at the table where he read documents for only about an hour, but the sunlight streaming through the window made me drowsy. I couldn’t focus on the words. It was too early for a nap, but I decided it was better to take a break and tried to get up. However, the distance to the sofa seemed too far, and the journey seemed so long, that I just stretched out on the table.
I turned my head away from the window. With my back to the sunlight, I rested my temple on my arm. The sunlight wrapped around me like a blanket. I could smell the rich wood scent of the table. The study, maintained at just the right humidity, smelled like a dew-soaked forest—fresh, damp, and filled with the scent of grass and old trees. It was the fragrance of my sanctuary, a scent that calmed my mind. As if the tossing and turning of the night had never happened, I drifted off into a deep sleep.
I slept soundly for about two hours without dreaming. My sleep here was more refreshing than when I lay on the sofa.
Only then did I regain feeling in my body, which had been fixed in one position. My arm, which had supported my head, was numb. I let out a groan and pulled my arm out from under my head, still unable to fully open my eyes. The numbness soon gave way to a tingling pain as blood returned to my arm. I squinted and wheezed, leaning my face against my other hand. I waited for the pain to subside. After clenching and unclenching my fist a few times, the tingling eased, and I pushed myself up from the table, thinking it was time to study again. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Perhaps it wasn’t just my eyes that were shut, but also my other senses. It wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I sensed a figure standing next to me. Even without seeing anything, I could tell who it was from his familiar warmth. However, to make sure that it wasn’t just my imagination, I turned my head slowly.
As I had guessed, he was standing beside the table. It was the first time I had seen him in a week.
When had he arrived? Just now, or when I was struggling with my numb arm, or perhaps while I was deeply asleep? How long had he been there? Why hadn’t he woken me?
His mouth was closed silent. He stood there, seemingly waiting for me to wake up to say something, but he remained silent, as if words were unnecessary. I slowly gazed up at him, then lifted my eyes a bit more, remembering his complaint to look into his eyes when talking to him. I moved my gaze from his firmly closed lips to his eyes. The sunlight streaming in sparkled over his eyes, making his dark irises appear lighter. His unwavering eyes looked into my eyes, almost like…
I flinched noticeably because my body was conditioned to react fearfully to touch. I had always associated being touched with being hit, my lifelong habit. The shock made me feel lightheaded, but I gradually regained my senses, blinking rapidly.
His touch was warm. The hand that touched my cheek.
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