The comb glides slowly through my hair, from root to tip. Its teeth brush against my scalp, light and comfortable, sending tiny shivers down my spine.
The gentle sound of shrrr… shrrr… fills my ears, soothing in a weirdly addictive way.
•••
Right now, I'm sitting still in front of Mom's vanity.
Various cosmetics scattered everywhere make the surface feel crowded, while behind me, Mom's reflection appears hazy in the mirror.
Her hair's a bit messy, but her hands are so steady. Her movements flow naturally, like she's some kind of professional hairstylist.
"Seraaaa… stop moving around. Mama already fixed your hair."
"Um... Okay, Ma… I'm staying still."
She even pressed her temples, like she was counting down her dwindling patience.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I start wondering: how did I end up here?
Hmm... My mind drifts back.
Fifteen minutes ago, I successfully transformed myself into a chocolate cream monster. I was so enthusiastic eating my birthday cake, which, yeah, I still remember clearly, that I ate without any manners.
Cream smeared on my cheeks, nose, chin… even my hair, already messy from waking up, looked like an even wilder bird's nest.
Mom, of course, didn't miss that moment.
"Oh my god, Sera…?"
She pressed her temples, like she was counting down her dwindling patience.
Then, without much drama, she picked me up, literally, and took me to the bathroom to be washed like a dirty dish.
And now, the final result: I'm clean, smelling like soap, and my damp hair is being rescued with the patience of a mother who's had way too much practice.
Her comb movements are rhythmic. Steady. Pull gently, untangle the knots, then glide down to the ends.
The rhythm's calming, like music without sound that can only be felt through touch.
My mind, previously filled with new calendar schedules, Dad's birthday... the existence of this world, suddenly just stops.
Empty.
Only the gentle sound of the wooden comb and the scent of vanilla shampoo remain.
It feels… comfortable. Warm. Like being wrapped in a thick blanket on a cold morning.
Peace in a way I never knew before.
Back then, "calm" to me meant being alone in a dark room. No sounds. No touch. Just me and silence that sometimes felt too loud.
Now, that definition has shifted to someone's presence. Hands that touch gently. Breathing that sounds close.
Warmth that's real.
So this is what it feels like.
"Done!" Mom chirps happily.
Her voice cuts through my daydream. She sets the comb on the vanity crowded with tiny bottles and fragrances.
"Look, pretty, isn't it?"
The reflection in the mirror shows my blue hair falling neatly, blue eyes reflecting light, chubby cheeks that… yeah, are even more visible after being cleaned.
I look like a porcelain doll fresh out of the box.
"Pretty," I mumble, almost like a reflex. More to myself than to Mom.
"Right? Mama told you so." She beams, then pinches my cheek affectionately. "Mama's child is the prettiest in the world!"
I laugh softly, letting Mom hug me from behind. Her embrace is warm. Safe.
No matter how many times I feel it, I'll never get tired of it.
For a moment, I forget that my life was once far from all this.
My mom hugs me for a few seconds…
or maybe longer.
I'm not really counting. Maybe because I still smell like soap, I think. Or maybe because my hair just got combed neatly.
Or maybe… Mom just wants to hug me for no particular reason.
Anyway, women love small children, especially when that small child is their own flesh and blood.
Her hug isn't tight, but it's strong enough. Her arms circle around my shoulders, her chin rests lightly on my head.
Her breathing is steady, warm, as if she's enjoying this simple moment the same as me or maybe even more.
I let out a breath, trying to savor the warmth. However, this toddler body has its limits; that comfort slowly shifts from "soft blanket" to "thick jacket in broad daylight."
"Mmgh..."
I start squirming, trying to create some breathing room, but Mom's arms reflexively tighten, locking my position like I'm a favorite doll that can't be let go.
"Um…Ma," I call softly, almost like a whisper.
"Hm?" she answers, her voice lazy. Comfortable. Like someone who's half asleep and doesn't want to wake up.
"Ma... can't breathe..." I mumble while patting her arm gently.
"Just a sec," she says casually. "Mama's comfortable right now."
My mom's reflection in the mirror makes me blink. Her eyes are half-closed, a thin smile on her lips, her mouth slightly open as if… she's about to eat me.
Comfortable…?
Mom, are you serious?
I consider you my mom, but you're treating me like food?
I shake my head, dismissing these strange thoughts.
No, I need to break free before my oxygen runs out.
I try again. This time more seriously. I turn my body slightly, trying to escape from the circle of her arms.
My body's small, but her hug is stable, and somehow, way stronger than it looks. Like a bear hug wrapped in the form of a tiny mom.
"Ma…" my voice rises a bit. Not too loud, but enough to get attention. "I wanna get down."
Mom laughs softly right near my ear. A short laugh, warm, like the sound of fabric brushed by wind.
"Why? Is Mama heavy?"
"That's not it…" I grumble quietly.
"Then Mama can still hug you."
Seeing my mom settling in even more comfortably, I try to escape from this beautiful "bear's" clutches.
"Ma, I wanna get down. Wanna walk around." I struggle a bit, making Mom wobble.
Mom chuckles softly, the vibration of her laugh spreading to my back. "Why the rush? You were enjoying it too earlier, right?"
Yeah. Mom's right. This toddler body is way more honest about feeling comfortable.
Finally, I give up and let my body go limp, leaning completely into Mom's embrace. I let my ego take a vacation for a while.
Silence for a moment.
However, that calm is suddenly shattered when I feel something very strange at the base of my neck.
Cold.
Not cold from a breeze, but something wet and sharp touching the thin skin there.
Before I can ask, before I can react, a sharp pain stabs the spot.
I flinch.
"H—huh?!"
My body tenses like I've been electrocuted. "Ma?!"
I turn, half-panicked.
My mom just bit my neck.
Not hard, but enough to scare me half to death.
"Why did Mama bite me?!" I cry out, my voice rising half an octave. "Does Mom think my neck is a chicken thigh?!"
Mom looks just as shocked. "Huh?!"
She quickly releases her hug, steps back while making an X gesture with her hands as if to say no.
"A... ah! That..." Mom stammers, her face bright red. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, looking just as shocked as me.
Sorry, honey! It's just that you smell so good, and your skin is so soft... You're so adorable I could just eat you up! It's called a 'love bite,' you know?"
Mom laughs awkwardly, trying to cover her embarrassment with a more reasonable excuse for a mother.
"Besides, Mama's hungry, so my concentration's all over the place. Hehe."
I just stay silent, expressionless. Flat eyes. Straight lips. No smile. No blinks.
That excuse… doesn't make sense.
At all.
A love bite. But that cold feeling on my neck earlier... was different.
I touch the bite mark with my index finger.
It still tingles.
Seeing my stare, Mom immediately looks away, like a criminal caught red-handed, then pretending to be busy.
"By the way!" she says quickly. "Your father will be home soon. Mama wants to cook for Dad. Does Sera want to come to the kitchen?"
A very obvious topic change. Rough. Like a movie that suddenly skips scenes without transition.
I lower my hand from my neck. That cold sensation's already gone, but the strange feeling still lingers in my chest.
Well, consider it being bitten by a giant mosquito, I tell myself.
"…Cook?" I repeat to make sure. My voice is soft. Hesitant.
"Yeah," Mom replies while starting to walk out of the room. She glances back a bit, looking at me with a gaze that seems to be waiting for me to follow.
"You said earlier you wanted to get down and walk around, right? Want to come with Mama or stay here alone?"
I nod, then get up from the chair. "Yesss… I'll come with you."
Even though her reason for inviting me to the kitchen feels forced, I don't want to stay alone in this room with a pile of questions either.
In the end, I realize I have no choice but to give up and start following behind her.
We leave the room. Mom walks ahead, humming softly. I follow without saying much.
In the kitchen, the aroma of cooking starts filling the house. I sit in my usual spot, watching Mom busy herself in front of the stove.
She said today I'm only allowed to watch.
Without realizing it, my hand touches my neck once, where that bite was earlier.
My focus shifts to the steam rising from the cooking, then back to Mom's back moving nimbly in the kitchen.
I don't realize my gaze hasn't moved from her back.
"Sera?" Mom turns halfway.
"What?"
I flinch slightly, like I just came to my senses.
"Hm?"
"You've been staring at Mama this whole time." She touches her own cheek.
"Is there something weird on Mama's face?"
I shake my head slowly.
"No."
"Then?"
I hesitate for a split second, then answer honestly.
"Mama's pretty."
Mom falls silent.
The spatula in her hand hangs in the air. I can see the blush creeping quickly from her neck up to her ears.
She's not just embarrassed. she looks like she just got shot with a love arrow right in the heart.
Just briefly, but it's quite noticeable. Then she laughs softly, a bit stiffly, and waves her hand as if brushing away something embarrassing while turning her face away.
"You…" she mumbles. "Ehehe... So good with words."
"Where did you learn to compliment like that?"
"Did you learn it from your father?"
I don't respond. Those words just came out without any intention.
Mom stares at my silence for a few seconds. A gaze that slowly changes from embarrassed, then softening, and finally… dangerous.
The corner of her lips lifts, her eyes narrow slightly.
Seeing my mom's gaze, I feel a bad premonition. I want to get away quickly.
"Oh my," she mumbles softly.
I haven't had a chance to move when Mom's already stepping closer. She crouches in front of me, then with both hands pinches both my cheeks at once.
"You're so cute I could just eat you up!" she says while pressing my cheeks gently.
"Hmf—!" My voice immediately changes. My lips are pressed, my words come out unclear.
"Ma… wet go… (let go)." My voice comes out garbled, crushed by my own cheeks being tortured by Mom.
Really undignified.
Not satisfied. Not happy. And clearly protesting.
Mom laughs softly. "Cute."
"Hmmf… Maaa…" I try to swat her hands away, but my strength is no match. My cheeks are pulled left and right, making my face even more disheveled.
"Gosh, it seems like your cheeks are made of marshmallow, huh?" Mom's getting even worse.
My soul's about to leave for the other world.
"I want to go to…"
"Just a sec," she says casually. "Mama's happy right now."
I huff in annoyance. If only I could make a fierce, intimidating face, maybe I'd have escaped already.
Unfortunately, what appears is the face of a resigned small child, which just triggers Mom's 'cute aggression' even more.
Then—
"I'm home!"
That voice sounds from the front of the house.
Mom flinches. Her hands immediately release from my cheeks, as if just realizing she was being mischievous.
She stands up quickly, clears her throat softly, then fixes her expression and tidies her slightly messy hair as if nothing happened.
Seeing my mom busy tidying herself up, I sigh in relief and rub my own cheeks.
Still warm.
I turn toward that voice.
My savior has finally arrived.
Mom steps toward the door with quick steps. As soon as Dad actually enters, her face immediately changes: bright, warm, like someone who finally sees something they've been missing.
"Honey," she says with a big smile.
Dad smiles back. The tiredness on his face seems to fade a bit.
Mom doesn't waste time. She rushes into Dad's embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as if they haven't met in years.
The sound of her sweet, giggly laugh fills the room, a sound very different from before.
I can only watch with my mouth slightly open. The speed of her transition really leaves me speechless.
A few seconds ago, she was pinching my cheeks off; now she's transformed into the perfect, gentle wife.
"Women..." I mumble to myself. If I had coffee in hand, I'd probably be sipping it while mumbling philosophically.
Watching them being lovey-dovey makes me want to backflip from nausea. But damn this traitorous body. my eyes actually heat up, feeling like an NPC forgotten in a world that suddenly belongs only to the two of them.
A few seconds pass...
Maybe Dad finally realizes it. He, who was previously completely immersed in that world for two, suddenly becomes aware as if just remembering that in this room there's another small creature staring at them with mixed feelings.
His smile becomes a bit awkwardly stiff, his hand that was stroking Mom's hair stops mid-air, then slowly lowers.
"…ah."
Just one syllable, but I can feel it. That awareness. That subtle shame.
I want to roll my eyes and say to him, "Did you finally remember I'm here?"
Somehow, I suddenly remember a sentence I once heard they say people in love feel like the world belongs only to the two of them. The others? Just NPCs who happen to pass by.
Seems like… it's true.
My mom also turns toward me. Her cheeks are still red, but this time she clears her throat softly, as if becoming aware of the situation.
Her hands tidy her clothes, her demeanor slowly shifts, becoming 'Mom' again, no longer completely the 'wife' lost in an embrace.
Dad finally really looks at me.
There's a brief pause. His lips twitch awkwardly, and his body stiffens a bit, as if just realizing his own mistake.
Then, after taking a small breath, he lowers his body and kneels to be level with me.
"Eh…" Dad scratches his cheek that isn't itchy.
He smiles slightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness while rubbing the back of his own neck.
"Sorry," he finally says. "Papa got carried away."
Just that.
His sentence is short, but his tone is honest.
"Papa was too happy and forgot to pay attention to Sera."
I want to roll my eyes again.
What does he mean, too happy?
But of course, this small body doesn't give me the right to be sarcastic to my parents. So I can only stay silent, swallowing that sharp comment alone.
I shake my head slowly.
"It's okay," I say.
My voice sounds much softer than what's in my head.
Dad looks at me for a moment, as if making sure my answer is sincere.
"Really?"
"Yeah," I answer again, avoiding his gaze.
"It's okay."
Of course it's okay. I just nearly wanted to do a backflip a few seconds ago.
"By the way, honey," Mom's voice suddenly interrupts.
That tone, light and casual, makes me reflexively straighten my back.
Dad and I both turn toward her.
As soon as I see the smile on Mom's lips, my guard immediately goes up.
That smile's too sweet. And from my experience so far, smiles like that rarely bring good news.
"You know," she continues while looking at me, her head tilted slightly, "how much Sera was waiting for you to come home."
I freeze.
…Huh?
Our eyes meet. Her smile widens, and that mischievous glint makes me immediately understand.
She. Just. Trapped me.
Dad laughs softly, a bit confused, then looks back at me.
"Oh yeah?" he says.
His gaze is gentle, but there's something there, like hope he's deliberately holding back.
"Is that so?"
There's a brief pause.
"You… missed Papa?"
Behind him, Mom smiles slightly. "Earlier she kept saying 'when is Papa coming home' over and over," Mom lies with an innocent face.
Her gaze makes me feel strange: embarrassed, annoyed, and cornered all at once.
Dad reaches out his hand hesitantly, then strokes my hair with careful movements. Not excessive. Not like the cheek pinch that nearly yanked my soul out earlier.
"Hmm," he mumbles. "For some reason, Papa feels like your cheeks are kinda red today."
His hand shifts, stroking my cheek gently.
I swallow.
Should I tell the truth? That Mom just lied?
I want to protest, but seeing the sparkle in Dad's eyes, my courage suddenly shrinks. Damn it. I can't lie when he's looking at me like that.
Finally, I nod slightly.
"Yeah." I answer in a voice as small as a mouse.
Dad falls silent.
For a moment, he just stares at me.
The corner of his lips moves first, before he can hold it back.
Without saying anything, he pulls me into an embrace.
His arms are too tight. My breath catches for a moment before I can draw air again.
Air comes in, but it doesn't feel relieving. My body's still tense.
"Papa missed Sera too," he says softly, his voice just falling out, not forced.
I don't return the hug. My hands hang at my sides, my fingers stiff.
…Oh god.
I roll my eyes slowly, as sharp as I can with my neck still trapped against his chest. My gaze glances to the side, looking for the only sane person in this room.
Mom.
Our gazes meet.
For a moment, she just stares at me.
Her eyebrow raises slightly, then her eyes drop briefly to the hug that's still too tight, before looking back at my face.
I stare at her straight, without shame. A very clear plea for help, until my mouth moves slightly, forming words without sound.
Help.
Take him.
Now.
Today I've nearly run out of oxygen twice because of excessive love.
My body stays stiff, my breath held halfway, and a strange mix of annoyance and embarrassment rises in my chest.
"Ahem."
That small cough sounds quiet, but clear enough.
Dad flinches. His hug loosens, then he steps back half a step.
"Oh—"
He chuckles briefly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry."
I take a deeper breath as soon as his arms move away, my chest finally feeling loose.
"Ah... Wait."
Dad lowers his body and kneels to be level with me, then reaches for his bag lying beside him. His hand rummages through the contents for a while, too long for just looking for something.
From the side, Mom watches him without saying anything. A few seconds pass.
"Ehem."
Her voice is soft, deliberately lowered, but enough to stop Dad's movements.
Dad's hand stops rummaging. He glances toward Mom for a moment, then, as if understanding, his hand emerges from the bag gripping something.
"Happy fourth birthday, my Little Princess." Dad smiles widely while still kneeling in front of me.
"Tadaaa! Look who Papa brought home?" He pulls out a dolphin plushie from his bag. "He said he really wants to be friends with Sera because Sera is the sweetest child in the world. His name is... hmm, what name does Sera want to give him?"
I don't answer. My gaze is drawn to the object in his hand.
As if sensing my hesitation, he holds out the plushie again.
"Look, a dolphin for Papa's little princess."
A dolphin plushie that's... incredibly cute. Big round eyes, very soft texture, and there's a small ribbon around its neck.
I'm stunned. In my old life, I wouldn't even glance at a plushie like this, let alone touch it. But now, when my fingers feel the incredibly soft fabric, there's a defense in me that suddenly crumbles.
I squeeze its fins gently.
It seems like this new heart of mine is starting to lose to Dad's simple attention.
"What's wrong, Sweetheart?" Dad's still kneeling in front of me, his face looking a bit worried at my flat reaction. "Does Papa's princess not like it?"
I see the hopeful gleam in Dad's eyes. So bright.
"I like it, Dad," I finally answer. I hug the plushie.
*Oh my god, this is so soft,* I think unconsciously.
I hide my face behind the plushie so they don't see the blush on my cheeks.
"Thank you, Dad."
That sentence comes out softer than I thought.
Dad falls silent for a moment. then his shoulders truly relax.
"Thank goodness…" he mumbles, barely audible.
Silence follows. Dad's still kneeling in front of me. I'm hugging the plushie without saying anything.
Uh, awkward.
Mom, who's been watching from behind, finally can't take it anymore.
She approaches while clapping once.
"Okay, enough."
"If this continues, Mama might cry too, and that's not funny at all." Mom says while pretending to wipe the corners of her eyes.
Dad immediately clears his throat, turning his face away. I blink too.
Dad wipes his face once, as if trying to return himself to normal mode. But his smile suddenly turns mysterious.
"Sorry," he says while taking a breath. "Papa got too carried away."
I just stare at him.
"Actually," he says softly, as if choosing his words,
"Papa still has one more thing."
I blink.
"One more thing?" I repeat.
Dad smiles thinly. "A gift."
"Huh? A gift?"
I furrow my brow, while Mom just smiles full of secrets in the background.