Nagisa set the stack of cash ,worth a full million yen ,beside him and picked up the phone.

The number on the screen was unregistered, yet somehow felt strangely familiar.

He pressed the green button and was the first to speak.

"Hello, who's calling?"

When a voice came from the other end of the line, it triggered a wave of déjà vu in Nagisa's mind.

"Hello, Mr. Nagisa."

It was a gentle, feminine voice, one he had heard before, a feeling he had felt once ,but his mind couldn't retrieve any memory of who the caller was.

Nagisa glanced at Haruki, standing by the door, waiting.

He took a deep breath and responded.

"Yes, what is it?"

She spoke with a trembling tone.

"We urgently need you at the hospital. It's about your wife… I'm so sorry."

Nagisa's eyes widened in shock, and his phone slipped from his hand,falling onto the floor and shattering its screen completely ,but he didn't care. He didn't even glance at it.

All that mattered now was getting to his wife.

He grabbed his coat and rushed to the front door.

Everything else faded away-nothing existed but the path that led him to her.

Haruki thought he should follow his father, so he began taking small steps in an attempt to keep up.

But Nagisa's strides were wide and fast, and he didn't notice his son trying to catch up.

When he did, Nagisa gently pushed him back inside, saying.

"No. Stay here. Don't go out."

"But-"

Before the little boy could protest, the heavy front door slammed shut in his face, announcing his father's departure; leaving him all alone.

Haruki stood frozen before the door, doing nothing but staring at it.

It was tightly shut, as if it were a massive barrier keeping him away from his mother.

He sighed softly, then looked around.

The house was eerily quiet.

Only the ticking of the clock and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen could be heard.

He took off his shoes, the ones he'd spent so long putting on that morning, and his small feet, covered in bright blue socks, moved over the wooden floor.

He walked toward the living room, climbed onto the purple couch, and sat in silence.

He didn't understand.

Why did his father leave him alone?

What could possibly be more important than taking him to see his mother?

His eyes wandered around the room, from the still ceiling fan to the blank television screen, until they landed on a picture hanging on the wall.

In that photo, he was sitting on a hospital bed, his parents on either side of him, all smiling warmly.

His gaze shifted again until it fell on the table in front of him ,where he was surprised to see the bundle of money his father had left behind in a rush.

He carefully jumped off the couch and ran toward it with childish eagerness.

He picked it up in his small hands and murmured to himself.

"Daddy forgot the money…"

He looked at the stack, then turned his eyes toward the closed front door.

Suddenly, a brave pulse stirred in his chest, like a tiny hero about to embark on a grand adventure to save the day and earn his parents' love.

With innocent determination, he clutched the money and declared.

"I'll take it to him."