The door clicked shut behind him.
Soft.
Almost silent.
Ayinakoji stood there for a moment.
Hand still on the handle.
Like he was waiting.
For something.
"…I'm home," he said.
His voice echoed lightly through the hallway.
No reply.
Of course.
"…Maybe they didn't hear me."
He took off his shoes and placed them neatly by the door.
Perfect alignment.
He always did that.
The house felt… strange.
Not empty.
But not warm either.
Voices came from the living room.
He walked slowly toward them.
Careful steps.
Quiet breathing.
His parents were inside.
His father sat on the couch.
His mother stood near the table.
They didn't notice him.
"…We can't keep doing this," his mother said.
Her voice was low.
Tired.
"I know," his father replied.
Flat.
Ayinakoji stopped at the doorway.
"…Then what do we do?" his mother asked.
A pause.
"…We stop expecting anything."
The words were calm.
Too calm.
Ayinakoji didn't move.
"…He's not normal," his father continued.
Something in his chest tightened.
"…He doesn't react like other kids," his mother said.
Another pause.
"…Maybe we made a mistake."
Silence.
Ayinakoji's fingers curled slightly.
"…A mistake…"
The word felt heavy.
His father exhaled.
"…We shouldn't have kept him."
Everything stopped.
The air.
The sound.
Time.
Ayinakoji blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
"…I see."
The words came out soft.
Barely there.
He stepped back quietly.
They still hadn't noticed him.
His room felt smaller than usual.
He closed the door gently.
Sat on his bed.
The crack on the ceiling stared back at him.
"…Nineteen."
He counted it again.
Even though he didn't need to.
"…A mistake."
He repeated it.
Like he was trying to understand it.
But the meaning didn't change.
A knock came at the door.
Ayinakoji looked up.
"…Come in."
The door opened.
His mother stood there.
She looked at him for a second.
"…You're back."
"…Yes."
A pause.
"…There's food in the kitchen."
"…Okay."
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
"…Next time, speak louder when you come in," she added.
"…Okay."
Another pause.
Then she left.
The door closed.
Ayinakoji stared at it.
"…I did speak."
But the words didn't matter.
They never did.
In the kitchen, the food was already cold.
He stood there, looking at it.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Normal.
He sat down.
Ate slowly.
No one joined him.
No one asked about his day.
No one noticed the silence.
A glass slipped from his hand.
It hit the floor.
Shattered.
The sound was sharp.
Loud.
For a moment…
Everything froze.
Then—
"What was that?!"
Footsteps.
Fast.
His father entered first.
Then his mother.
They looked at the broken glass.
Then at him.
"…I'm sorry," Ayinakoji said immediately.
"I didn't mean to—"
"You're always causing problems," his father cut in.
The words were sharp.
"I'll clean it," Ayinakoji said quickly, already kneeling down.
"Don't touch it," his mother snapped.
He froze.
Hand hovering above the shards.
"…You'll just make it worse."
Silence.
Ayinakoji slowly pulled his hand back.
"…Okay."
His father sighed.
"…Why can't you just do simple things right?"
Ayinakoji looked at the floor.
"I'll be more careful next time."
"…You said that before."
The words hit harder this time.
Not because they were louder.
But because they were true.
They cleaned the glass.
Not him.
He just stood there.
Watching.
Useless.
Later that night, the house went quiet again.
Ayinakoji returned to his room.
Closed the door.
Sat on his bed.
The crack was still there.
"…Nineteen."
He stared at it.
Unblinking.
"…If I wasn't here…"
The thought came slowly.
"…would anything change?"
Silence.
No answer.
Of course.
He lay down.
Pulled the blanket over himself.
The room felt colder tonight.
"…It's okay."
He whispered it again.
"…I'll just try harder."
But the words felt… weaker now.
Like they were losing meaning.
Outside, the wind blew softly.
But inside that room…
Nothing moved.
Nothing changed.
And somewhere deep inside him…
The crack grew wider.