Chapter 32: Mother

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Translator: Soafp

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[Kenji PoV]

Two days have passed and it is finally the day that I will face my “Mother”. How long has been it been that I have seen her?

The house felt eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the once vibrant atmosphere I was used to. Since my father got hit by a car, the silence had become a constant reminder of the turmoil our family was enduring.

The ticking clock seemed louder in the emptiness, and I realized I had only a few minutes left before my appointment with my mother.

As I stared at the clock, lost in thought, my phone started vibrating, breaking the silence. I walked over and saw that Nao had sent a message. Curious about what she had to say, I opened the message and started to read.

[Kenji-kun, I just found out something really big. Can I speak with you in person?]

[Can we do it later? I have something I need to do first]

[Of course. Tell me when you are done. Shall we meed at our usual spot?]

[Sure. I will meet you there. See you soon]

[See you soon]

I sighed as I put my phone down, feeling a mix of curiosity and urgency. Nao had found something significant, and I needed to know what it was. But first, I had to face my mother.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door. As much as I wanted to hear what Nao had discovered, my confrontation with my mother couldn’t wait. Becuase there is a question that I need to ask.

The weather outside was overcast, with a chill in the air that hinted at an impending rainstorm. The gray sky mirrored my mood, heavy and foreboding. I walked briskly, my mind swirling with anxiety and questions. What did my mother want to talk about? How would she react to seeing me after all this time?

The streets were relatively empty, and the usual hustle and bustle seemed muted in the dreary weather. Each step I took felt heavier, as if the weight of the past was dragging me down. After 15 minutes of walking, I arrived at our designated meeting place—a small, cozy café that used to be a favorite spot for our family outings.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warm air and familiar scent of coffee and pastries offering a brief respite from my turmoil. I scanned the room, but my mother was nowhere to be seen. Glancing at my watch, I realized I was ten minutes early.

I chose a table by the window and took a seat, my nerves still on edge. The café was quiet, with only a few other patrons scattered around. I signaled the waiter and ordered a drink, hoping it would help calm my racing thoughts.

As I waited, I couldn’t help but replay the events of the past few days in my mind. The accident that had put my father in the hospital, the shocking discovery of my stepfather’s secret, and Ryota waking up after his fall.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching out like an eternity. I sipped my drink, trying to steady my nerves, and kept glancing at the door, waiting for her to appear.

As the clock approached the appointed time, my anxiety peaked, but I steeled myself for the encounter. It was time to face my mother and whatever truths she had to share.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and I instinctively looked up. There she was—my mother. Our eyes met, and she had a smile on her face.

She walked toward my table with a sense of purpose. She pulled out a chair and took a seat across from me.

“Hi Kenji. Did you wait long?”

“No, I came here 5 minutes ago.”

“I see. I am glad you want to meet me.”

“Well, a lot of happened and I wanted to see you to as well.”

That was a lie. I never wanted to see her, but after my father got hit by the car, I was desperate to know something.

“I’m glad. How have you been doing lately?”

she asked, trying to break the ice.

“Could have been better. Busy with school and stuff. How about you?”

“I’m doing alright. Work is keeping me busy.”

“I see.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. The tension was palpable, and I could feel the weight of all the unspoken words between us. My mother took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.

“Kenji, the real reason I wanted to meet is because I want to apologize to you.”

Her voice trembling slightly.

“I know I what I did was wrong but I hope you could forgive me.”

She bowed her head.

I looked at my mother in astonishment, unsure of what to say. Her admission caught me off guard, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within me. Part of me wanted to lash out, to unleash all the pent-up anger and resentment that had been festering inside me for so long.

A few seconds passed in silence as I struggled to process her words. The bitterness and hurt I had carried with me for years clashed with the longing for healing and understanding. Finally, I spoke, my voice cold and detached.

“Forgiveness, huh… Do you know what I’ve been through since you and dad divorced?”

My mother remained silent, unable to meet my gaze.

“I’ll tell you. After the divorce, dad spiraled into a dark place. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol and took out his anger on me. I became the target of his aggression, his punches leaving bruises that no one could see. It was only thanks to a friend’s support that I made it through those dark times. I had to learn self-defense just to protect myself.”

I paused, the memories of those tumultuous years flooding back.

“And when he finally stopped being aggressive, he became nothing but a shell of his former self. A drunk stumbling around the kitchen, leaving me to pick up the pieces and take care of everything.”

My mother couldn’t say anything in response, her silence speaking volumes. The pain and resentment that had simmered beneath the surface for so long now bubbled to the surface, raw and unfiltered.

“But not long ago dad wanted to change. He made small steps to change himself, found work and finally became happy…until he got hit by a car…”

“He got hit?!”

My mother said with surpised voice.

“It was my fault. I didn’t look propely and he pushed me away and took the hit for me…”

Thinking about it makes my heart ache.

“What happened after?”

“He lost a lot of blood when he got hit by the car. I called the ambulance and went with him to the hospital. After we arrived at the hospital a nurse came to me asking if I want to donate my blood to dad because they were out of his blood type. But I had to take a test.”

My mother started to sweat. Of course she would.

“Naturally, I did take the test, and after a few minutes, the nurse came to me with the results.”

My thoughts drifted back to the moment when the nurse delivered the news.

---

“I have the results but…”

I swallowed my saliva waiting for her to continue.

“I have a question I want to ask first.”

“Yes.”

“…Are you perhaps adopted?”

“Adopted? No, I don’t think so, why?”

“….”

The nurse fell silent, her expression inscrutable, and I felt a knot of nervousness form in the pit of my stomach.

“Your father has a blood type of O-negative, but your blood type is AB-positive. Which means it is impossible for you to be his biological son.”

“…I don’t get it.”

“Let me explain it to you.”

She started to draw the back of the paper.

	A	i
i
i

“On the left side is your father and at the top side is for example your mother. You multiple what’s on the left side with what’s on the top side so it would be like this.

She started to fill the blanks

	A	i
i	Ai	ii
i	Ai	ii

“The child would either have Ai or ii. However in your case—“

She started to draw again.

	?	?
i	i * ? = AB	i * ? = AB
i	i * ? = AB	i * ? = AB

“It is impossible to get AB with ii as a blood type. The only way to get AB is if one of the parents has an A while the other needs a B. Your father has neither…”

The nurse explained solemnly, her words sinking in with a heavy weight.

“T-this mean…I am not his biological son…”

“I-I’m sorry. It seems like it.”

I sank back into the chair, my mind racing. My whole life felt like a lie. The man I had called my father wasn’t my biological father. I was the result of my mother’s infidelity.

But then who is my real father?

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“The nurse told me that my blood wasn’t compatible, and that I wasn’t his biological son. How funny is that, haha…”

I laughed, trying to mask the deep hurt inside, but the bitterness in my voice was unmistakable.

My mother looked down, unable to meet my eyes, the weight of guilt and regret evident in her posture.

I felt like I had been living a lie, surrounded by a facade of false truths and hidden secrets. My father, whom I had loved and admired before he was abusive, was not my biological father.

My mother, who was supposed to be my rock, had abandoned me in more ways than one. It all felt like a cruel twist of fate, a plotline ripped from the pages of a novel, except this was real life, and I was living it.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty and betrayal.

Every memory, every moment shared with my family now felt tainted by the truth I had uncovered. It was a harsh reality to face, but I knew I couldn’t turn back now.

I needed to know the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

“So, “Mom” who is my real father?”

My “mother” started to cry after I condemned her.

But I felt nothing as she broke down in tears. Her crying didn’t stir any sympathy within me. She wasn’t crying because she felt guilty about what she had done; she was crying because she got caught.

If it hadn’t been for the blood test, she never would have told me the truth. The realization that she had kept this secret all my life, that she had let me live a lie, left me feeling hollow.

She sobbed uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Every tear she shed seemed like a desperate attempt to garner sympathy, to manipulate the situation in her favor. It was pathetic.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stopped crying and wiped her eyes.

“Sorry. I am sorry, Kenji.”

She whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

I could only look at her with cold detachment. The warmth and affection I once felt for her had been replaced by a chasm of betrayal and hurt. Her apologies meant nothing to me now. They were just empty words from someone who had shattered my world.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…I should have never started it. I was stupid and young. Now, I am paying the price for it.”

She wiped her tears and mustered he courage to face me.

“I met someone when I was dating your father. We had a good conversation and a fun time together. It should have stopped there. However, we continued to spent time together and had a great bond. I though it would be nothing more than this but I crossed the line.”

She continued.

“I slept with him even after I got married. A few years later, I got pregnant. Your dad and I were excited, but I knew there was a chance it wasn’t his. When you were born, I took a DNA test, and, well, you know the outcome… I didn’t want to destroy this family, so I kept it a secret. But your father found out about the affair and filed for divorce.”

I interrupted her, my voice laced with bitterness.

“That’s an interesting saying you dont want to destroy the family, but you still continued even after you were married to Dad. So, aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

She flinched at my words, the raw truth cutting through her feeble attempt at justification. Her eyes, red from crying, couldn’t meet mine. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the weight of her betrayal and my growing resentment.

“Anyways, I can assume the person who you met is my father?”

“….”

“Who is he?”

“….”

It felt like I was interrogating her, pushing relentlessly to uncover the truth about my real father. Five minutes passed, each second stretching painfully, and she finally gave in under the pressure.

“…Ryo…”

“Ryo?”

“Ryota-kun’s father….”

Did I hear her correctly? Ryota’s father is also my father.

“Ha, haha, hahahaha.”

“Kenji…”

“Ah, sorry. I thought it was funny how miserable my life is. I get to know my family is fake, and my biological dad is a piece of sh*t.”

I sat there, letting the reality of her words sink in. The weight of it all threatened to crush me. My supposed father, the man who raised me, wasn’t my real father. And now, to find out that my biological father was Ryoto-kun’s father, a man who had destroyed my family, was more than I could bear.

“Kenji, please understand—”

“Understand?”

I interrupted, my voice rising.

“Understand what? That you’ve been lying to me my whole life? That my real father is also my best friend’s father? That my entire life has been a lie?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but I felt nothing. No sympathy, no compassion. Just a cold, hollow emptiness.

“I am sorry… I didn’t want to destroy our family. I made a mistake, and I tried to protect you.”

“Protect me? By lying to me? By keeping me in the dark. Your lies did nothing but cause more pain.”

I had enough. I stood up, ready to leave, but before I did, I turned to her one last time.

“About your apology, there is no way I could ever accept it. Don’t ever contact me again. You are dead to me, Mano-san.”

Her eyes widened in shock at how I addressed her. The name “Mom” no longer fit. As I walked away, I could feel her gaze on my back, but I didn’t turn around. I was done with her, and there was no looking back.

I walked out of the café and into the street, my mind a whirl of emotions. The revelation about my real father, the lies, the betrayal—it was all too much.

I needed space, time to think and process everything. I didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain: I could never go back to the life I once knew.

The ties that bound me to my past were irrevocably severed, and all I could do now was move forward, alone.

[Nao-san, I am done with what I had to do. I also have something to share with you]