The afternoon sunlight in the Hino house was gentle and warm—nothing like the heavy tension Miyako had been carrying in her small heart. She had been waiting for days, clinging to the hope that maybe—just maybe—her parents would remember her, call her, ask her how she was.
And finally…
Her grandmother called out from the living room.
"Miyako… phone for you."
Her eyes widened.
Her heart jumped.
Her chest tightened with joy so overwhelming that her breath trembled as she ran to pick up the receiver.
She didn't wait even a second.
"Mamma!" she exclaimed, a smile stretching from one ear to another, her voice cracking with pure relief.
Sayuri's voice came from the other side, not harsh, not soft—just hurried.
"Yes, Miyako. Give the phone to your grandmother."
The small spark inside Miyako flickered.
Just like that—one line.
No "How are you?"
No "Did you eat?"
No "I miss you."
Her fingers slowly loosened from around the phone. She stared at it for a second longer, disappointment swelling inside her chest, then she silently handed it to her grandmother.
Her grandmother gave her a small pat before taking the phone.
Sayuri didn't waste time.
"Maa, send Miyako back. Asuka has been asking about her."
For a moment, Miyako froze.
Asuka?
She was needed… because of Asuka?
Grandma hesitated.
Her voice was gentle but firm.
"But Sayu… Miyako's birthday passed recently. Won't she feel hurt if you celebrate Asuka's birthday right after ignoring hers?"
Sayuri sighed impatiently.
"Maa… what can I do now? I just… forgot about her birthday."
Miyako's heart cracked all over again.
Forgot.
Her own mother forgot.
Sayuri continued, her voice softening but trembling.
"And I didn't let her come here… because I was scared she might ask something in front of Asuka. You know Asuka's condition is sensitive right now. I didn't want her to say anything that could worsen it. I'm just… worried something might happen to Asu—"
Before she could finish, Reiko Hino cut in.
Her voice was calm, but there was pain in every word.
"Sayu… in all this, what fault did Miyako commit?"
Silence.
"She is just a child. She has been living here without either of you. She misses you. Every night she waits for your call."
Sayuri said nothing.
Grandma breathed deeply.
"Still… she will be happy to see you all. I'll send her."
And the call ended.
Miyako stood there, nervous, hopeful, worried.
She immediately asked, her voice trembling in excitement:
"Grandma, what did Momma say? Is she coming to take me back?"
Her grandmother turned to her slowly, forcing a smile.
"Yes, my little fairy… you're going back home."
Miyako smiled widely, but she caught it—the sadness hiding in her grandmother's eyes.
She frowned.
"Grandma… what happened? I'm going back, isn't that good? Why do you look sad?"
Her grandmother gently held Miyako's cheeks and kissed her forehead.
"Nothing, dear. Only… I will miss you. Too much."
Miyako's eyes softened.
Grandma continued, her voice shaky.
"And always remember this—you have two homes. If you ever feel lonely… ever feel unwanted… come back to us. Your grandpa, I, your uncle, your aunt, and even little Yumi… we will always take care of you."
Miyako hugged her grandmother tightly.
She didn't understand everything, but she understood love.
And she could feel it here… so much of it.
---
The Next Morning
Miyako wore her shoes, tightly holding the small bag she had brought from home. Her eyes sparkled with hope.
Maybe Mom would hug her.
Maybe Dad would lift her up and call her "princess" again.
She was excited.
She was ready.
She wanted her real home again.
---
Back at the Yukishiro Mansion
Before she even stepped inside, she heard laughter from the living room.
But not her family's.
Not the warm laughter she missed.
It was Asuka's.
And the first thing Miyako saw when the door opened was Daichi—her father—holding Asuka in his arms, gently patting her head, smiling as if the world had become brighter.
Miyako stopped walking.
Her smile faded—slowly, painfully.
She had never seen her father smile like that these past months.
Not for her.
Not even once.
Asuka noticed Miyako and waved happily.
"Miya! You're back!"
Miyako forced a tiny smile, her stomach twisting painfully.
And then Sayuri turned toward her.
No hug.
No happiness.
Just a plain statement:
"You're back."
That was it.
Miyako lowered her eyes. "Yes, Momma…"
She looked around at the decorated room—balloons, ribbons, streamers everywhere.
"Why… why is the house decorated?" she asked.
Daichi turned to her casually.
"Today is Asuka's birthday. We're throwing a small celebration."
Then he frowned.
"Miyako, why didn't you wish her yet?"
Miyako's heart almost stopped.
Dad didn't call her "princess".
Dad didn't hug her.
Dad didn't even say welcome back.
But he noticed she didn't wish Asuka.
She swallowed the pain and whispered:
"Happy birthday, Asuka…"
Her voice was soft, shaky.
Then she mumbled:
"I'm… tired. I'll go to my room."
Daichi stopped her.
"Wait—Miyako."
She turned, hope flickering for a second.
Maybe… maybe he wanted to talk.
Maybe he missed her.
But his next words shattered her.
"Your room gets a lot of sunlight and has that spare door. So… we shifted Asuka there. It's easier for emergencies."
Miyako froze.
Her room.
Her private space.
Her little world.
Gone.
Just like that.
She forced her voice to stay steady.
"…So where will I stay?"
Sayuri replied casually:
"Go to Airi's room for now. She's not here."
No apology.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Miyako didn't say anything else.
She simply turned around and walked away—slowly at first, then faster.
Once she reached Airi's empty room, she locked the door and collapsed on the floor.
The tears came immediately.
"No one cares about me…"
Her voice trembled.
"No one… not even a little…"
She cried until her eyes hurt.
Cried until her chest felt hollow.
Cried until she fell asleep on the cold floor.
---
The Birthday Party
Soft music played in the living room.
Laughter filled the air.
People talked, smiled, clapped.
But none of it reached Miyako.
She stepped out of the room slowly, wiping her face with the sleeve of her dress. She didn't want anyone to know she cried.
Sayuri saw her.
"Miyako, come. We're about to cut the cake."
Daichi added:
"Yes, come here. Don't behave like this."
Miyako looked at the cake with Asuka's name written beautifully in pink icing.
Asuka smiled at her.
"Miya, come! Let's cut it together!"
Miyako stood still.
Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands.
She shook her head.
Softly at first:
"No… I'm not feeling well."
Sayuri frowned.
"Miyako, stop being difficult. Come here."
Asuka reached out again.
"Please, Miya—"
Something inside Miyako snapped.
All the hurt, loneliness, and pain burst out in one trembling shout:
"I SAID NO! I WON'T COME!"
The room went silent.
Asuka's smile faded.
Sayuri's eyes widened.
Guests stopped talking.
Sayuri's voice turned sharp.
"Miyako! How dare you talk like that?"
That was it.
Miyako couldn't take it anymore.
She spun around and ran back to Airi's room, tears blurring her vision. She slammed the door shut, locked it, and leaned against it, gasping for breath.
Daichi followed her.
For the first time in her life, her father raised his voice at her.
"Miyako! Open this door now! Why are you behaving like this?"
Her heart shattered.
She screamed back, voice filled with pain she could no longer hide:
"GO BACK TO YOUR NEW DAUGHTER'S BIRTHDAY PARTY! DON'T COME TO ME!"
Silence.
A stunned, heavy silence.
Miyako fell to her knees.
Her trembling hands covered her mouth as sobs tore out of her.
Outside, the entire family was frozen.
Daichi stood still, shocked.
Sayuri stared at the door, speechless.
Even Asuka's eyes filled with tears, confused and hurt by Miyako's sudden outburst.
But there was no sign of Hikaru—he was still away, unaware of the storm building inside his little sister's heart.
Miyako didn't see any of them.
She was inside the room, crying until her chest physically hurt.
And in that pain…
In that suffocating loneliness…
She finally understood what her grandmother meant.
"If you ever feel lonely… come back to us."
And yes—she felt lonely.
Terribly lonely.
So with trembling fingers, she made her decision.
Tomorrow morning… she would go back to her grandparents' house.
Back to the only place where someone still loved her.
Back to where she still mattered.
Back to where she wasn't invisible.