7 Do You Still…?

Jun set down the half-rinsed rice he was holding, turned to Hana, and said, "It's true, I'm genuinely happy."

Hana replied, "Then why am I not seeing it?"

Understanding her point, Jun, somewhat helplessly, said, "Perhaps it's because I've become an old man now. Having seen so much, I've grown more composed than the younger folks."

Determined to understand Jun's thoughts, Hana stood confrontationally at the doorway, pressing, "Do you still love me?"

Jun was a reserved individual, possibly due to his upbringing and surroundings. He'd always hesitated to express feelings of affection.

Hana recalled a date before their wedding when she playfully asked if he liked her. Jun hesitated for the longest time, despite his actions and gaze constantly following her, revealing an affection he couldn't hide. Yet he couldn't muster a response. She had posed the question in the morning. By evening, as they parted, Jun finally admitted he did. It took Hana a moment to realize he was answering her earlier question, his subtlety reminiscent of a shy plant.

In his youth, he was a reticent man. As he aged, he became even more reserved. Faced with Hana's directness, Sato found himself at a loss, standing silently for quite a while.

Approaching him, Hana said, "You've been waiting for me all this time, haven't you? Now that I'm truly back, don't you have anything to say?"

He hadn't been intentionally waiting, but he couldn't forget her either. When he finally came to, so many years had passed.

Lowering his gaze to his aged, wrinkled hands, Jun swallowed his words.

Seeing his silence, Hana's temper flared. She stepped forward and grabbed Jun's hand. Startled, Jun instinctively pulled away. Annoyed, Hana shot back, "What's the matter? Can't I even touch my own husband?"

For a moment, Jun thought if he were ten years younger, Hana wouldn't just be voicing her discontent but might've kicked him. This whimsical thought made him laugh.

"It's okay to touch," he said, extending his hand back to her, adding with a calm demeanor, "It's not as youthful as before; the skin's all wrinkled."

Holding his hand, Hana used her other hand to touch his face. Not quite used to such gestures, Jun instinctively leaned away.

Hana's simmering anger erupted, "Why are you dodging me?"

Jun quietly leaned back towards her. He gazed at his wife, unchanged after four decades, and felt a fleeting daze as her cool touch met his face.

He recalled a memory: after they got married, they took turns cooking. Whoever had the time would cook, and both were decent cooks. When they both had time, it was usually him who cooked because Hana would be in the living room playing video games. He disliked onions, but Hana loved them. The first time he bought onions, he underestimated their power and found himself teary-eyed from the fumes. With glasses fogged up, he couldn't see clearly. Unable to wipe his eyes with his hands, he tried to use his arm, almost knocking off his glasses in the process.

Being newlyweds, he was too shy to call for Hana from the living room for assistance. But at that moment, Hana, who should've been gaming, appeared at the kitchen door. She took one look at his flustered state and remarked, "I could tell by the onion smell. Bookworms will be bookworms, lacking even this basic life experience."

As she spoke, she leaned in to wipe the tears from his face. The sensation of her fingers on his skin felt just like that moment.

It was as if time had rewound, scenes of the past replaying. He was still that young man, trying to impress his wife with his cooking skills, thrown off by an onion. But when he slightly lowered his head, letting his wife's fingers touch his cheek, his heart fluttered.

Hana's fingers brushed against the white hairs on Jun's temples. He seemed to have gone gray earlier than most. Hiroshi, Airi's husband, was several years older than him, yet had fewer gray hairs.

A pang of sadness hit Hana. She let go of his face but continued holding Jun's hand.

She suddenly looked deep into Jun's eyes and asked, "When I decided to marry you, Airi wasn't supportive because you were three years younger than me. My father didn't approve either. But I married you anyway. Do you know why?"

Having weathered many storms, Jun, now Sato Sensei, with his younger wife's hand in his, had grown accustomed to such moments and responded gently, "I thought it was because your father disapproved, so you..."

His response caught Hana off guard. Their rocky relationship with her father meant she often did the opposite of what he wanted, but for Jun to suggest this was the primary reason for their marriage upset her. Annoyed, she gave Jun's hand a pinch.

While that might've been a factor, it wasn't the main reason. Hana tugged at the corner of her mouth, bringing the conversation back on track.

Jun sighed inwardly, indulging the impulsiveness of the young lady. "I must've been mistaken back then."

Hana said, "I married you because you liked me." In her two decades of life, she had liked many things, but she had never liked herself. She often felt she was riddled with flaws, thinking there was nothing about her worth liking. So when she met Jun and discovered his feelings for her, she was both surprised and curious, wondering how long his affection would last. This curiosity led her to accept his marriage proposal.

"Do you understand what I mean by that?"

"…"

"What I mean is, if you don't like me anymore, I'll move out quickly, so you don't have to feel uneasy around me." If he didn't ask her to stay, she would leave immediately.

Jun's fingers, held by Hana, twitched slightly. After a long pause, he said, "Please stay."

"That's settled then," Hana laughed. "Should've just said so earlier, no need to beat around the bush."

She walked out with hands on her hips and, as she reached the kitchen doorway, turned back and said, "You know, old men can be cute too. Touching you doesn't feel strange at all."

After she left, Jun turned back to rinse the rice. After a few moments, it dawned on him. 'Was she just teasing me? -- Ah, the young ones.'

In his lifetime, Sato Sensei had taught countless students and encountered all kinds of youthful temperaments. But the only one he couldn't quite handle was Hana. Even at his age, being teased by someone younger, he couldn't help but smile.

Hana was gentle, a kind of gentleness distinct from his, hidden beneath her casual demeanor. Everything she said and did just now was simply conveying one message— "Keep me by your side."

Not everyone can effortlessly accept a lover who has aged suddenly. What she was trying to convey was that she had accepted him.

It was a simple and perhaps impulsive sentiment, but that's how the young are. When their hearts are filled with love, they can do anything for it.

Two days ago, he received that phone call. A young social worker told him they had found his wife. For a moment, Jun thought he had misheard. He couldn't understand what the person on the phone was saying. The teacup he was holding fell, spilling tea on his shoes. He couldn't help but ask, "What did you just say...?"

The guy repeated the message. When he heard the words 'your wife Hana has returned,' he couldn't grasp the rest and had to ask again. He had never found a statement so hard to comprehend. Every word was clear, but the meaning escaped him.

He had dreamt about it countless times, but it never materialized. Just when he had given up hope, the unexpected news arrived. Sitting down in his soaked slippers, he listened to the voice on the phone.

"...Alright, please come and pick up Mrs. Sato soon. We'll send you the necessary information for the formalities..."

After hanging up the phone, he sat still for a while before realizing the cold, damp sensation on his feet. Getting up to change his clothes, he paused in front of a mirror. Staring at the old man reflected back at him, Jun wondered how she could possibly accept this white-haired elder.

He felt the sadness of the phrase "fear of returning home," but he quickly rushed to pick her up nonetheless.

Before pushing open the doors of the service center, he pondered, 'what if Hana can't accept me?' Then he thought, 'if she doesn't, there's nothing I can do about it. I've aged, and what can I do?' In that moment, he had prepared himself for all of Hana's potential reactions and choices.

But the moment he opened the door and saw Hana sitting there, he forgot all his prior concerns. Bringing her home, watching her lie on their couch, his restless heart since receiving the call began to calm.

Regardless, Hana was alive and well, not having suffered any of the hardships he had imagined. That was a relief.

A forty-year weight was lifted from his heart.

His 'heavy burden' was now playing video games outside. The rhythmic sound effects reached the kitchen, lively and dynamic.

Without the 'heaviness', what remained was just 'concern', still lingering in his heart and hard to let go of.

Jun washed his hands and began cutting an onion.

Hana, from the living room, quickly detected the smell of onions. She jumped up, tiptoed to the kitchen doorway, peeped inside, and giggled. When Jun looked up in response, she noticed the protective goggles he was wearing.

Impressive, using goggles to cut onions. Hana secretly crumpled a tissue in her hand, nonchalantly returned to the living room, and made a toss— the tissue ball landed straight in the trash can.

"Am I still sleeping upstairs?" Hana asked during dinner.

"Yes," replied Jun, seemingly not grasping the implication behind her question.

"... Do people become stubborn old men as they age?" Hana playfully flung a slipper from under the table in Jun's direction.

Glancing at the slipper that landed by his feet, Jun swallowed his food and gently responded, "Yes, we do."

Hana scooped a big spoonful of onions onto the plate of the indifferent old man across the table.