With Ryosuke’s presence gone—and taking the tension with him—it was just the second generation of the virtual Yamada family: Mirai, Natsu, and Kota. Natsu was in his bedroom, playing games on his mother’s phone, and the parents were on the couch in the living room.

“I hear you’ll be very busy this month,” said Kota, finally finding the time—and probably the only good time—to touch on a subject between them. “I guess that makes both of us busy then.”

Mirai, trying to act calm after the abrupt proposal that had miraculously come to a halt because of Natsu’s interruption regarding his clothes, asked back, “Oh, does it have something to do with a friend you brought back? Natsu had texted me with your phone last night about it.”

“Yes.” He lightly chuckled. “Sorry for frightening you then. I was going to call to ask if I could sleep over for the night to make up for the last time that I had missed, but I figured you’d be asleep at three in the morning.”

“You guys got back that late?”

“Usually, I’d be back home around one, but because we had my friend, there were a few things we had to take care of.”

“Is he the uncle Natsu dearly adores?”

“He’s young but is very, very mature even though he thinks he needs to work on himself.” He broke eye contact with her and solemnly looked away. “I had been wanting to take him back to the city, but he has his reasons to stay in the countryside.” This wasn’t the real reason, however, for Kota bringing in his friend. He wanted to gradually include his friend further into the personal life of Natsu before the truth was revealed, but before he could focus on his friend’s comfort, he needed to tackle the problem at hand. “I want to discuss something with you before we don’t have the time to.”

“Sure.” She perked up.

“A-about your proposal…”

She put out a hand anxiously. “You don’t have to think much about it. He-he’s just out of his mind, that’s all.”

He raised a brow. “He?”

“About what Ryosuke had said earlier.” Her thumb pointed to the back of her, referencing the scene that had happened in the kitchen.

He laughed, realizing he wasn’t clear about something. “Uh, not about that proposal.”

Her eyes batted. Did she have another proposal? But the only men—man—in her life—romantic life—that she knew was none other than the idiot, Ryosuke.

Kota bashfully clarified which proposal he wanted to discuss—the one she had texted to him a few weeks ago.

Her complexion and expression subtly changed as she stiffened and recalled that day where she fondled with her cell phone in her hand as she thought of whether the idea of her and Kota marrying would be the best and only option for Natsu’s and Ryosuke’s protection if something bad happened and she couldn’t avoid it. The idea of marrying Kota wasn’t an abrupt one, however. On Natsu’s second birthday, a year after she had moved away from Ryosuke, she had found out about something related to Natsu, and it was then that she knew she may have to marry Kota if there was ever a need to.

Kota tried to speak up with an unbashful tone and attitude. “A-about it, I-I don’t know what to say…”

She hastily looked at him. “I can’t, and I won’t, force you into it.” She gently bit her lower lip. “But I figured it’s the best choice.” The room turned silent, and she hesitated to say the next line because she knew it was the reality he had yet to accept. But time wouldn’t wait for them to spill anything. She had to say it. “Besides, you’re already a father he accepts.”

A wave of guilt and agony heavily washed over him as her comment went in one ear and stayed there. It repeated and echoed in his mind, and a face only he recognized painted in his mind. It was a smile he had seen only twice. Despite the responsibility he was supposed to repent for, he couldn’t chain down Mirai any further and take away his younger brother’s happiness that he had patiently waited for five years to find and have.

He looked at her. “I—” He took in a deep breath. “What about Ryosuke?” He purposely mentioned the party that wasn’t involved. Or at least, directly involved.

A thorn pierced her body, but she brushed it aside. She forced herself to say, “What about him?”

“I know he loves you. And,” he quickly glanced at the kitchen, which she caught, “I know he means it—the proposal. What I had said must’ve triggered it, but I know he wants you and Natsu in his life.” And he’ll be a much better father than I can ever be.

The silence resumed. This time, the sounds from Natsu’s bedroom could be heard, striking them that he was whom they need to focus on and whom should be their utmost priority.

She heaved a sigh. “I know…” She held back the tears because if she didn’t, she knew Kota wouldn’t find his resolve to take up the chance and offer she had for him. “But he and I, it won’t happen.” I won’t let it happen. “We aren’t meant to be together.” Ayame’s a sweeter and better choice. She’s the perfect match for him. “And like I said before,” she gulped the words down and mustered the courage to say the next words, “we can’t go back to what we once were.” Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, her emotions won. She locked eyes with him, and, at the same time, tears streamed down her cheeks. Yet, she kept a firm—and fake—smile. “I’m satisfied with the virtual life we had.”

*

Ryosuke entered his office with two plastic bags in his hand while beaming a glistening smile at the little boy. “Hi, Natsu!”

Natsu responded with the same amount of happiness. “Hi, Uncle!”

Mirai tried to not look annoyed though. She and her son had arrived at Ryosuke’s office about fifteen minutes ago. The point for today’s meeting was because Natsu’s photo-shoot started today, and Natsu, the star of the photo-shoot, had to be prepped. She would’ve sent Natsu to the set herself, but Ryosuke had never given her the address and had forbidden his secretary to give her any other information besides the date of the photo-shoot, therefore, she would always have to meet up with Ryosuke and inevitably leave with him.

While she was immersed in her thoughts, she felt the space next to her change. She turned to look and saw Ryosuke taking the seat beside her.

He was chewing his food—the things he had brought upon his arrival—as one of his hands in front of her held the chopsticks with a ball of takoyaki covered with soy sauce. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“The shooting’s going to take long, and we’ll miss dinner, so eat.”

“I already—”

He cheekily smooched her cheek. “If you don’t, I’ll do more than this.”

Behind him, Natsu was happily enjoying his food, and, thankfully, not looking at them.

She cleared . “Where’s my chopstick?”

Ryosuke victoriously smiled and pointed to himself. “Me!”

“I’m serious.” She sent him a displeased look. “If you want me to eat, I need my chopsticks.”

He kept his smile. “I am your chopsticks.”

“Ryosuke.”

“Mi-chan.”

She hated it when he affectionately called her. It drowned everything out, making her see only him. And it was times like this she couldn’t help but smile. She opened , waiting for him to feed her.

He surprisingly raised his brows. “You-you’re letting me feed you?”

She rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Will you feed me or not?” She closed and looked away. “Your loss.”

He speedily held her hand to keep her from going anywhere and scooted closer. “Sorry, sorry. I thought it’d take me longer to have you let me.”

She pouted at him, although she understood his reasoning. She cleared and pretended to not be bashful. “You’re Ryosuke, so of course, I’ll let you feed me.” She opened . “Aah.”

He inched the chopstick with the takoyaki to , and she gobbled the ball off the chopstick. He frowned as he looked at the chopsticks pinching nothing. “I was going to eat it too.”

She covered and laughed. “You said for me to eat it, so I did.”

“Yeah, but you should’ve taken a small bite so that I could finish it. It’s supposed to be like an indirect kiss.” He sadly looked away and muttered, “You haven’t changed.” He glared at her. “Why do I have to fall in love with such an unladylike and unromantic woman?”

She let out a sigh. “And you’re still as stupid as before.”

They had a stare-off, which ended in ten seconds when Natsu turned around and asked why the adults had gotten close and were staring at each other instead of eating. Ryosuke, as always, got his answer interrupted by Mirai, who lied to save herself from blushing. Ryosuke always found it cute and amusing when she was frantic, and he had come to adore her even more. He liked how her hand gestures become exaggerated. He liked how she raised the pitch of her voice on certain words to emphasize them. But what he loved most was how she always tried her best to act that she wasn’t shy.

She reached into the bag to search for something and took out a pair of chopsticks.

He whined to her, “We’re eating together.”

“I’m feeding myself.” She glanced away to hide her pink cheeks.

No matter how much he wanted to toss the chopsticks out of her hands and break them into tiny little pieces, he’d let her win. “Fine. But you can only eat from my plate.”

They both knew that even though she acted like she didn’t want to, she really did.

She scowled. “Fine.”

He inched closer to her, brushing his knees with hers, and wore a grin so wide, she had to bite her lips to stop herself from smiling with joy.

*

Natsu, Mirai, and Ryosuke arrived on the set of the photo-shoot and noticed a lot of construction workers, with some of them wearing helmets as they worked with the lighting or in high places. She found herself surprised that some ladies could afford to wear stilettos and be dolled up at a location for a job like this. As she ensured her son’s safety, who was also curiously looking around, Ryosuke casually led her with his hand never leaving her back as he walked alongside her.

One lady, the only lady in casual clothes with a gray tank and denim jeans, noticed them and ecstatically shouted, “Over here! Over here!”

Ryosuke saw her and pointed to her, telling Mirai and Natsu to go with him to her. “Ms. Takimoto!”

The ecstatic lady skipped the formal greeting, however, and crouched to Natsu’s eye level to speak to him. “You must be Natsu-kun, right?”

Natsu smiled. With a whisper, he answered, “Hai.”

“Can you come with Auntie Miori to try on some clothes?” She pointed in a direction, and he glanced up at his mother.

“Go on, sweetie,” allowed Mirai. “I’ll wait here for you.”

Ms. Takimoto stood up and extended a hand to Mirai. “Excuse the late introduction. I’m Miori Takimoto, assistant to Director Sho Sakurai.” She averted Mirai’s attention to the Director sitting on a baby-blue beach chair with yellow stripes. “You can go and greet him while I take your son to get ready if you don’t mind.” She also glanced at Ryosuke. “He’ll also like to confirm a few things with you.” Her tone changed drastically. “You know how he is on the first day of shooting.”

Ryosuke heaved an exhausting sigh while looking down, and Mirai sensed something tragic in the short run. If he looked troubled, didn’t that mean trouble for her too? Or was this director some sort of a sketchy person with a shota complex? Or was he one of those dramatic and strict directors as portrayed in the media where everything was executed word for word, precisely as instructed, and it didn’t matter if the receiver was an adult or a child?

“Let’s go greet him,” said Ryosuke to Mirai once Natsu followed Miori to the changing room.

Mirai tensed up, and her hands began to sweat as she followed him to the Director. What would she say? What should she do? How should she react? What was there to discuss? What would they discuss? Questions ran through her head like a tornado, overwhelming her. But what worried her more was the wavering expression on her face. She knew she wasn’t good at hiding her emotions, especially when it came to worrisome thoughts. She just hoped a miracle would save her.

Someway, somehow.

“Sho,” Ryosuke said when he reached the Director. “I texted you an hour ago, didn’t I?”

The Director didn’t respond. He neither bogged his head, glanced at them, nor utter a sound. He continued to tap the white-gray blow horn on his knee while staring off into the other side.

At the sight of the blow horn, Mirai’s heart raced in fear for her son. If the Director was a mean person and didn’t discriminate whether the receiver was an adult or a child, he’d use the blow horn to yell. Though Natsu was a good listener and an obedient child, he was still a child, and doing grown-up things—like taking professional pictures—may be hard for him. What was even worse was when she realized that she and Natsu would be working with him until the photo-shoot and the commercial shooting were finished.

“…can’t…” the Director finally made a sound.

“Huh?” uttered Ryosuke.

“…can’t.” He raised a pitch, but still, neither Ryosuke nor Mirai could make a word out of it. He subtly shook his head. “I said,” he finally sounded human, “this can’t be done!”

Although this could appear as a good thing—because that meant the shooting may be canceled—she didn’t feel too good about it.

“What do you mean?” Ryosuke questioned. He pointed to the set—a background of a lush, green valley with huge, twice the size, various toys of different shapes and colors set in place. “It looks fine to me.

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not the set I’m worried about.”

Mirai instantly caught onto what the Director may be implying. Sure, they had never personally met, and when there were meetings regarding the filming and photo-shoot, he was never present due to previous works, but to judge her son negatively, she wouldn’t stand for it.

The Director pouted as if whimpering, his hands clasped together under his chin, and his knees came together, slightly bent. He looked at Mirai, surprising her, and with a puny voice, he said, “Your son’s too adorable for this theme!” He quickly picked up something on a nearby black table, where the monitors were arranged, and showed it—a close-up picture of a smiling Natsu. He repeated, “He’s too adorable!”

She couldn’t help but blink numerous times. “Wh-where did you get that picture?”

Ryosuke stepped in with an answer, “I had asked my Mom if she had any pictures of Natsu for me to show before the project.”

Before she could even ask further questions, Sho shoved Ryosuke to the back and stepped forward. “The mother, I presume?”

She nodded. She had misjudged this director. He wasn’t scary, or mean, or strict. He was…a bit on the eccentric side.

He cheekily put out a hand. “I’m Sho Sakurai, the Director for the commercial, and may I say, my,