Chapter 4

**A week before**

Iris was following her usual routine, tending to her quaint coffee shop in their small, quiet town. Business was slow as always, with only a handful of customers stopping by throughout the day. She didn't mind, though—it gave the place a warm, relaxed atmosphere. Her two employees, a father and his thirteen-year-old son, Hikari, helped her keep things running smoothly. Of course, the boy could only assist after finishing his school day.

With few customers, there was often plenty of downtime. Hikari used his spare moments to bury himself in a book he'd bought a few weeks ago. The title was *The Lost Bud* by Rose—a name Iris recognized all too well. It was Hanako's book.

On this particular afternoon, Iris noticed Hikari sitting quietly at one of the corner tables, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Concerned, she put down the tray she was holding and walked over to him.

"Hikari? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft yet laced with worry. "Are you hurt? Or sick? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She reached out gently, rubbing comforting circles on his back as she crouched next to him. Hikari looked up at her, his cheeks streaked with tears, and clutched the book tightly to his chest.

Hikari looked visibly surprised but quickly recovered, giving Iris a sheepish smile. "Oh, Ma'am Iris! It's nothing. I'm fine. This book is just making me a bit emotional," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, thank goodness it's just the book," Iris replied with a sigh of relief. Her brow furrowed slightly as curiosity sparked in her eyes. "What book is making you cry, anyway?"

"Ah, remember Hanako-neesan's book? It's this one," Hikari answered, his tone brimming with pride as he held up the book for her to see.

"Oh, it's her book?" Iris asked, leaning closer to take a better look. Her eyes softened with admiration. "Right, I never managed to get a copy for myself..." she added, her voice carrying a hint of dejection.

Hikari's face lit up. "Oh! Do you want to read it, Ma'am? I can lend it to you!" Without hesitation, he placed the book in Iris' hands.

"Are you sure I can?" she asked, glancing down at the book, her fingers brushing over its cover. Her voice was filled with both surprise and gratitude.

Hikari gave a firm nod of reassurance before excusing himself and heading off to resume his work.

Left alone, Iris stared at the book in her hands with a quiet smile. She lightly traced the title on the cover, admiring its design. Pride swelled in her chest as she thought of her daughter and how far she had come. Deciding to cherish the moment, she made a mental note to read the book later that evening, once the shop was closed.

---

After closing the shop, Iris climbed the stairs to the second floor, where her home was. The familiar warmth of her living space greeted her. After a simple dinner and a refreshing shower, she finally settled onto her bed, the day's fatigue still clinging to her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the book she had been eager to start.

The story pulled her in almost immediately. By the time she reached the third chapter, an inexplicable sorrow had settled in her chest. The narrative stirred something deep within her, a quiet unease. "... This feels... familiar," she murmured, her fingers tightening slightly around the book. Despite the growing weight in her heart, she continued to read, unable to stop.

By the halfway mark, Iris could read no further. Her hands trembled as she closed the book, tears streaming down her face. Her chest ached, each breath feeling heavier than the last. A powerful urge to call her daughter surged through her, the need to hear her voice overwhelming. But Iris stopped herself, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay. *I can't worry her,* she thought, taking deep, shaky breaths to calm herself. *Not now.*

The book lay on her lap, the title staring back at her as if it had a life of its own. Iris stared at it through tear-blurred eyes, her heart twisting with worry. "Hanako..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with concern.

The story so far was a hauntingly raw account of a little girl, her young life burdened with unimaginable hardships. Each word etched itself into Iris' mind, drawing her back to memories she thought she had locked away.

---

**Back to the present**

Hanako held her sobbing mother in a gentle embrace, her confusion evident, yet her instincts prompted her to rub Iris' back in an effort to calm her down.

"What's wrong, Mom? Did something happen?" Hanako asked, her voice tinged with worry and bewilderment.

Iris gradually regained her composure, pulling away slightly to wipe her tears. "I'm sorry," she said with a small, apologetic smile. But no matter how much she tried, the lingering emotions were still visible on her face. "I shouldn't have welcomed you like this."

"No, Mom, it's fine," Hanako replied, though her concern only grew. "But I'm really worried... Are you... ill?" Her voice trembled as her thoughts spiraled, imagining all the worst-case scenarios behind her mother's tears.

"No, no, no," Iris responded quickly, a hint of panic in her tone. This was what she had feared most—making her daughter worry unnecessarily. "I'm not sick. I'm perfectly healthy. It's just..." She hesitated, her words faltering under the weight of her emotions.

"It's just...?" Hanako pressed gently, her tone soft and patient. She took her mother's hands in her own, her steady gaze meeting Iris'. "Tell me, Mom, hm?"

Feeling the warmth of her daughter's hands and the sincerity in her eyes, Iris sighed deeply. Summoning her courage, she admitted nervously, "I... I read your book."

Hanako froze, the air around her seeming to still. Her expression shifted—uncertainty, understanding, and unease flickering across her face as the weight of her mother's words settled in her mind.

"I... see..." she murmured at last, her voice barely audible. The words felt heavy, as though they carried far more than their simple meaning. Her grip on her mother's hands tightened, her fingers trembling slightly, as if to anchor herself in the moment.