The days passed after my birthday.
But inside my heart… the questions didn't.
I kept thinking about Yui.
Why didn't she come?
What happened?
I wanted to ask.
So I did.
One morning, I looked up at Mama while she was folding clothes in the living room.
Her hands were moving slowly, like they were tired even though the day just began.
"Mama…" I said quietly,
"Can you call Yui's Mama?"
"I want to ask why Yui didn't come to my birthday…"
Mama's hands stopped folding.
She stayed still for a moment.
Then she knelt down in front of me and touched my cheek gently.
"It's not Yui's fault, sweetheart," she said softly.
"They were just… busy at home."
I blinked.
My head tilted.
"Busy…?" I whispered.
"But… don't they always do what they always do?"
Mama didn't answer.
She only smiled.
But it wasn't a real smile.
So I said something else.
Something that had been hiding in my heart since yesterday.
"Mama… can I go to the park today?"
She looked at me — a little surprised.
Then she nodded, smiling again.
This time it was warmer.
She pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head.
Maybe she thought I had moved on —
That I wasn't sad anymore.
But inside me…
I was still holding something.
I didn't tell her the real reason I wanted to go to the park.
Not to swing.
Not to slide.
Not even to feed the birds with crumbs.
But because…
That was where I met Yui.
That was where our story started.
That was where her voice first called my name.
That was where we first laughed together.
And maybe — just maybe —
if I sat on the same bench,
or walked past the same tree,
or waited long enough near the sandbox…
Yui would be there again.
Like before.
Like always.
Like how it was at the beginning
of our friendship.
Mama told me to prepare anything I needed before we left.
So I ran to my room and grabbed Shiba-inu.
I held him close, his soft fur against my cheek.
"Shiba…" I whispered,
"I hope we find Yui at the park today."
"We'll play together again — like before, okay?"
Shiba-inu didn't answer, of course.
But I made him nod —
because sometimes, that makes hope feel more real.
As I walked out of my room, something caught my eye through the window.
Tama-chan.
She was in the garden again, sleeping in the shade near her favorite bush.
I stepped outside, just for a second.
"Tama-chan~" I called gently.
She looked up with slow, blinking eyes.
"Please… pray for me, okay?"
"That Yui will be there."
She blinked once.
Then gave a single, quiet "meow~."
I smiled.
Maybe she said yes.
Or maybe she was just confused.
But I liked to believe she understood.
After Mama finished packing our lunch and snacks, we left together.
The walk to the park wasn't long, but my heart was moving faster than my feet.
When we arrived, I pulled Mama's hand gently and pointed.
"That bench, Mama…"
"Can we sit there? The one where I first saw Yui?"
She nodded and followed me.
After she sat down, I didn't stay.
I ran off —
Shiba tucked under my arm.
I began to search.
First, the red slide.
I remembered playing there with Papa — climbing up, then shouting "Weee!" all the way down.
But it was empty now.
No Yui.
Then I looked around for the man with the shamisen —
the one who used to play that soft, magical music while the sakura fell.
But the music wasn't there.
The air was quiet.
Only the wind made sounds today.
"It's okay…" I told myself.
"Maybe Yui's not here because the performer isn't here either…"
I didn't stop.
I kept running, kept looking.
Around the swing set.
Past the sandbox.
Behind the little fountain.
But still —
No voice calling my name.
No ponytail bouncing as she ran toward me.
Just the sound of leaves rustling.
And my own footsteps on the path.
From far away, I knew Mama was watching me.
Even though I couldn't see her clearly anymore, I could feel her gaze —
soft, quiet, heavy.
Earlier, her face had been shining.
Like maybe she hoped I would laugh again today.
But now…
Even from a distance, I could tell.
Her expression had changed.
Her light had dimmed.
Like a candle flickering against the wind.
She knew.
She knew why I asked to come here.
Not for slides.
Not for swings.
But for something else.
Or someone.
Yui.
And maybe Mama…
knew I wouldn't find her today.
After running all through the park —
past every swing, every slide, every tree I could find —
my legs started to feel tired.
My breath came in little puffs.
So I walked back slowly to Mama,
who was still sitting on the bench.
She saw me coming and gave me a soft smile —
the kind that tried to cheer me up, even if her eyes were a little sad.
Without saying anything, she reached into her bag
and handed me a small bottle of juice.
"Here, sweetheart," she said gently.
"You must be thirsty."
I took it with both hands and drank.
It was sweet and cold —
the kind of juice I liked best.
We sat there together for a while.
Just me, Mama, and the warm breeze.
We ate our lunch quietly.
Mama peeled my apple slices the way I liked,
and I tried to smile for her.
But inside, I kept glancing…
at every child that passed,
every little voice in the distance.
Still no Yui.
Time passed.
The sun climbed higher,
then started to go down again —
just a little.
Still no sign of her.
But I didn't want to feel sad.
I didn't want Mama to worry.
So I thought to myself:
"Maybe Yui's sick today…"
Yes — that made sense.
I remembered when I got sick before,
when my body felt hot and heavy,
and my head spun like a top.
Mama had called it a "fever."
I had to stay in bed all day —
no playing, no running.
Just lying there,
while Mama spooned warm food into my mouth
and pressed a cool cloth to my forehead.
Maybe…
Yui was feeling like that today too.
That's why she didn't come.
That's why she didn't smile or wave or call my name.
So I looked up at Mama and said softly,
"Mama…
Let's go home."
She looked at me for a moment.
Then nodded.
Her smile returned — small, quiet.
She stood up and held out her hand for me.
I took it,
and we walked back together,
leaving the park behind.
No Yui today.
No song.
No dance.
But it's okay… right?
Maybe she just had a fever.
Maybe next time.
Maybe tomorrow.
Or next week.
…Right?