Connie looked at her father as he laughed and talked to her, feeling slightly dazzled.
It wasn't unusual for them to interact, but it was rare for her father to spend this much time with her.
Most of their conversations were short. That didn't mean she didn't enjoy them, but they often felt like simple, polite exchanges, something that came and went quickly.
But the way her father looked at her now felt different. There was real curiosity in his eyes, as if he genuinely wanted to understand her better.
Because of that, she found herself talking without holding anything back, letting her thoughts flow freely.
She didn't know what had changed in him, but it didn't feel like a bad thing.
Her father was usually very passive. Connie didn't really understand his tastes because he rarely shared his opinions, especially on sensitive topics.
On the surface, it seemed like he and her mother always agreed on everything, except when it came to vegetables.
But during that short conversation, Connie began to notice things about him she had never seen before.
She hadn't known he had been such a mischievous child, or that he used to enjoy catching insects.
She had never imagined that the great-grandfather she barely remembered had such a strong influence on them.
For the first time, she started to understand, at least a little, why he had chosen to become a security guard instead of something else.
After spending time observing Asha, Connie had gotten better at reading people. Even in this brief moment, she was already piecing together her father's hobbies, opinions, and preferences in her mind.
But moments like this never last forever.
Doug began to touch on topics he had never really talked about before.
"Is school fun?"
When Connie heard the question, it felt like something she had been trying to ignore suddenly came rushing back.
The past few days had been so different that she had almost forgotten how bitter school felt, day after day.
Asha had filled that empty space with her strange habits and emotional depth. Being around her felt like an endless study, where the process itself made Connie want to keep going.
Was Asha really some kind of magical being, as she imagined? Who was the person she kept drawing in her notebook? Why was she so good at target shooting? What had she been doing before she left the hospital?
That curiosity had grown so much that it was starting to become intrusive, without Connie even realizing it.
At the same time, it distracted her from the real problem.
Things at school weren't getting better. They were getting worse. The adults who were supposed to help either ignored her or failed to do anything that worked.
She had tried everything, and nothing helped. Eventually, she just gave up on fixing her school life. They would move someday, and she would meet new people. Why waste energy on people who hated her?
But thinking that way didn't make it any easier to go back to that suffocating place every day.
She wanted to tell someone. But she was afraid to tell her parents. She was scared of how her mother would react, how it would affect her father, and how things might change afterward.
It was a simple fear. She could recognize it clearly, the fear of changing the fragile balance she had managed to keep.
So she told herself everything was fine and kept enduring it. But her father's simple question made her hesitate.
'What would happen if I told Dad?'
Before, the thought alone would have scared her. But now, in that moment, it didn't feel so impossible.
Still, just as she was about to speak, she met her father's expectant gaze and froze.
Saying it out loud would ruin everything. It would break this quiet, precious moment they were sharing.
Connie felt her heart race; the words were on the tip of her tongue, yet she hesitated to say them.
In the end, a single day was not enough to break through her mental barriers or undo the long neglect she had endured.
In a futile attempt to preserve the moment, Connie told her father a white lie.
"Yes, I have good friends at school, and my grades are pretty high. Are you proud?"
She knew those were exactly the words her father wanted to hear, judging by the smile and affectionate look he gave her.
"As expected of my daughter. Dad's so proud. You can bring your friends home sometime, you know?"
A part of her felt nauseous, as if her repressed emotions might surface at any moment.
"I'll think about it… By the way, the line for the Ferris wheel looks much shorter now. How about we go there?"
In the end, she changed the subject like a sinner. It was not the first time Connie had withheld information from her parents, but before, she had never felt she was doing anything wrong.
After all, problems were meant to be solved on her own, not by her parents. She was not a child anymore. She had to prove that her grades and her parents' efforts in raising her were worthwhile.
But now, all of that felt like an excuse to hide the truth. She was simply too afraid to face the consequences.
Connie quickly moved to Asha, pushing her wheelchair, unconsciously seeking comfort while avoiding her father's gaze and pretending to be calm.
Whenever things became difficult, Connie would hug Asha while she watched TV. It felt like an unspoken agreement between them. Asha allowed it, as long as it did not interfere with whatever she was doing.
But this time, Asha seemed unsettled by the sudden movement.
Two crystal clear eyes stared intently at her. It was not easy to read Asha with so few expressions, yet Connie understood. This was her way of asking if she was alright.
Connie steadied her breathing and gave her a reassuring smile.
"Sorry to startle you. We're going on the Ferris wheel now."
They had come all this way because of her selfish wish. She wanted Asha to experience this, but somewhere along the way, she had lost focus.
A faint sense of guilt lingered. She was using this as an excuse to distance herself from her father, but she did not have the strength to face him right now.
She pushed Asha toward the Ferris wheel line, which was still fairly full even at this late hour. Her father followed behind, curiosity evident in his steps.
To avoid looking back, Connie focused entirely on Asha.
Asha was quieter than usual. Although she could not speak, she always carried a strong presence wherever she went. Now, however, she seemed fragile, like a withered leaf, resting her head against the chair as if drifting into sleep.
Thinking about it, they had been everywhere today. It was no surprise that Asha was tired.
Normally, Asha spent her time watching TV, drawing, or reading. But today they had visited a library, caused a scene, eaten an excessive amount of food at a restaurant, and even cleared out the prizes from a shooting gallery.
At the center of all of it stood the same quiet figure, her adopted sister.
It was remarkable how someone so silent could feel so present.
Sometimes Connie envied that about her. Of course, Asha could become unstable if left alone, but aside from those brief episodes, she showed an extraordinary calm when dealing with situations.
Connie wondered if Asha ever had the same trivial worries she did. What to say to others, how not to burden her parents, how to stop feeling so out of place.
Her fingers brushed lightly against Asha's soft cheek.
"If only I could be even a fraction of what you are…"
She envied her calmness and composure. Her quiet kindness, her exceptional abilities, and the rich inner world she seemed to inhabit. Asha never appeared bored, even confined to a wheelchair and living with multiple disabilities.
Connie, on the other hand, was perfectly healthy, yet wasted her time on meaningless worries and cowardice.
She was tired of herself. Tired of problems that never seemed to be solved, no matter how much effort she put in.
The world around her was noisy, yet inside, everything felt hollow.
'If I didn't exist, wouldn't things be better?'
Asha could take her place. She was intelligent, and her future would surely be bright. Even without Connie, their mother would continue to care for Asha just the same.
Before, Connie had convinced herself that she was essential to her parents. That she was the glue holding their family together.
But with Asha there, that role felt increasingly unnecessary.
Her mother smiled more, showing a warmth Connie had never seen before. Her father seemed genuinely happy whenever Asha helped him secretly.
The house itself felt lighter because of her. In just a few months, Asha had achieved what Connie had failed to do for years.
That was what made the comparison unbearable.
Maybe this sense of alienation came from something she had always known deep down.
Maybe she had never truly belonged.
Just as her thoughts began to spiral somewhere dangerous, something interrupted her thoughts.
When Connie looked down, a small hand gripped her sleeve. The owner wasn't hard to guess. It was Asha.
"A… Asha? What happened?"
Startled by the sudden touch, Connie quickly tried to compose herself.
Despite the turmoil in her chest, Asha showed little reaction. She simply kept holding onto Connie's sleeve, not even bothering to look up at her.
Following Asha's gaze, Connie turned her head and saw an attendant speaking with her father.
Only then did she understand what was happening. It was their turn, but she had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed the line moving.
Asha stared intently at their father, who stood at the entrance with an apologetic expression as he argued with the attendant.
"Could you make an exception just this once? It's my daughter's first time on a Ferris wheel."
"I'm sorry, sir, but rules are rules. Only two people per cabin," the attendant replied with a polite, practiced smile.
Apparently, her father had wanted to ride with them, but he had been stopped at the entrance. The cabin was clearly large enough for the three of them, especially considering Asha and Connie's size, yet the attendant refused to budge.
Even when her father offered to pay double, the man remained unmoved. Behind them, people in line began to show their irritation.
But Connie's attention wasn't on her father.
It was on Asha's hand, which tightened around her sleeve the moment he insisted on going with them.
Even though they had spent more time together today, Asha had still kept her distance from him. She avoided eye contact, never touched him, and rarely stayed close.
The scene in the library had made it obvious. Asha still showed clear signs of rejection.
Was she clinging to Connie because she was afraid of being near their father?
Connie knew it wasn't a kind thought, but she couldn't help feeling a small, selfish warmth at the idea. At least for now, without their mother around, she was the one Asha relied on.
That realization brought a faint sense of superiority, quickly followed by shame. She hated that part of herself. The part that enjoyed being needed like this.
Asha, who was usually even more reserved than Connie, tended to express herself through small gestures. But today, she seemed even more withdrawn than usual.
Suddenly, Asha began tugging at Connie's sleeve, back and forth, as if urging her to do something.
But no matter how perceptive Connie was, she couldn't read minds.
"Um… Asha, do you want to tell me something? Maybe if you write it down, I can help…"
The pulling only grew stronger. Connie's body rocked back and forth, dragged by a strength that didn't seem possible for such a small child.
Dizziness washed over her, and for a moment, her vision blurred.
Then, just as suddenly, the motion stopped.
Still catching her breath, Connie looked at Asha in confusion.
But her sister's eccentricities didn't seem like they were going to stop anytime soon.
As if she had forgotten her own condition, she suddenly placed both hands on the sides of the wheelchair and tried to stand.
She didn't even make it halfway.
Like a featherless bird falling off a cliff, Asha fell fearlessly with her arms wide open.
Her face remained expressionless and calm. However, it was clear that if she fell like that on that arid ground, she wouldn't escape with just a few scratches.
"Oh, be careful!"
Connie's body reacted instantly.
Adrenaline surged through her, giving her legs a strength she did not know she possessed. With quick, deft movements, she grabbed Asha from behind and lifted her before her legs could scrape against the ground.
The result was a comical sight: a small girl carrying an even smaller girl in her arms as if it were nothing.
She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Asha's stoic expression, seemingly unaware of what she had done wrong. Having already avoided a crisis, Connie adjusted Asha in her arms and shifted her into a more comfortable position.
Their faces met. Asha's eyes held their usual expressionless look, while Connie's were filled with anxiety, as if she had just escaped a disaster.
Seeing the troublemaker's face, Connie felt a rare flicker of irritation. Asha was being far too careless. It was the second time she had fallen on the same day, and the first time she had even scraped her knees.
If Connie did not scold her properly, she might keep acting this way. Maybe she behaved like this because she assumed Connie would always catch her. Even so, she needed to reprimand her.
What if she did this when Connie was not around?
The image of Asha lying helplessly on the ground, unable to call for help and struggling to stand with those thin, fragile arms, formed in her mind and weighed heavily on her heart.
Connie looked at Asha, who seemed lost in a daze, and spoke in a firm, serious voice.
"Asha, this is the second time this has happened today. If I had not been here, you could have been seriously hurt, and Mom would be furious. Promise me you will not do something so dangerous again."
Connie tried to keep her tone and expression stern to show she was truly upset, even though she was not as angry as she appeared.
It was the first time she had spoken so harshly to her sister, and she felt a bit guilty. Still, a voice inside her insisted she was doing the right thing and perhaps should have been even stricter.
If their mother had been here, it certainly would not have ended with just a warning.
However, Asha, overwhelmed in her own way, paid no attention to Connie's thoughts. Instead of apologizing, she turned her confused face away. The simple action made Connie's heart pound.
"Do not pretend you do not understand..."
Even so, Connie kept her composure and continued scolding her. Yet, in defiance of all expectations, Asha grew even more affectionate.
She quietly rested her head on Connie's shoulder, as if it had always belonged there. Her dark, fragrant hair brushed against Connie's nose, leaving her momentarily dazed.
It was the same shampoo she had used for years, so why did it feel different when Asha used it?
No, what was she thinking? She needed to stay focused.
"Asha, I am serious... Ugh."
Asha tightened her arms and legs around Connie, deepening the embrace. The hug was so strong that Connie felt the air leave her lungs.
At the same time, she noticed her father and the attendant staring at her. Their expressions were hard to describe, a mixture of surprise, astonishment, and something like admiration.
As if that attention had opened the floodgates, Connie began to hear whispers from the people waiting behind them.
"Hey, Mom, look! Those two girls are hugging on the Ferris wheel."
"Hmm, yes... They seem very close. You should learn from them instead of stealing your sister's toys."
"That only happened once!"
The scattered voices swirled around her, turning Connie's already flushed face into a symbol of pure embarrassment.
Her social life was collapsing right before her eyes, and she could do nothing to stop it. If she had felt neglected earlier, now she wished only for a deep hole to disappear into.
"A-Asha, how about going back to your wheelchair?"
"..."
Connie quickly abandoned her firm stance and asked in an almost pleading tone. In the end, she seemed to be the only one being punished, while the real culprit appeared to enjoy the situation.
Instead of loosening her grip, Asha held on even tighter, making poor Connie look like a stiff, unbalanced post. Her mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say.
She remained standing only because letting go would make things worse.
Then, in the middle of this desperate situation, Asha offered her own solution.
She pointed toward the Ferris wheel cabin, her original goal. It felt like a silent command: take me on the ride, or I will make an even bigger scene. She had not said a word, but Connie had no doubt she was capable of it.
"Really, even if it's Asha, this is too much…"
Connie felt like crying. For the first time, she realized that being a responsible older sister came with a price: enduring the unpredictability of a younger sibling.
"Dad, I am going with Asha first!"
With no better option, Connie rushed toward the Ferris wheel while carrying her. The moment they stepped inside the cabin, she shut the door so quickly that her father's response was cut off.
Silence returned once more.
Connie could finally sigh with relief as she escaped the countless eyes staring at her. She sat back in her seat as if she had just run a marathon.
The night sky and the silence of the cabin calmed her turbulent mind, while also making her notice details she hadn't usually seen before.
Asha was still in her arms, perched on her lap, showing no sign of letting go. Connie couldn't see her face, but her body trembled occasionally each time the cabin lifted.
Seeing her sister in her little white dress, exuding a natural wheat-like fragrance, gave her a strangely therapeutic feeling. Connie felt the weight on her eyelids ease, and a serene expression appeared on her face.
It was as if she were seeing a green field full of life after a turbulent drive through the city.
Connie was so used to holding Asha that simply having her in her arms after a stressful situation naturally relaxed her completely.
Light streamed through the window, and below them, the view of the amusement park grew smaller and more vivid, as if a painting were forming in real time.
But at the same time, this light illuminated Asha's trembling, defenseless back as she hugged Connie's neck with both arms, refusing to move.
"Uhm… Asha, are you perhaps… scared?"
It was so obvious that Connie asked the question without thinking. Asha seemed to freeze for a moment, then shook her head from side to side after tightening her embrace even more.
It was curious how she could understand her words without even looking at her and still deny it so convincingly.
The hug was tight, but for Connie, with her great untapped physical potential, it didn't take long to adapt to that level of pressure.
Connie supported Asha's back with a gentle touch and, with her other hand, stroked her hair in a posture like that of a mother calming a frightened child.
"I never imagined that Asha would be afraid of Ferris wheels…"
Since she had ridden the roller coaster so calmly, Connie had assumed the same would be true for Ferris wheels, but that clearly wasn't the case.
Looking discreetly to the side, Connie saw Asha with her eyes tightly closed, her nose buried in the back of her neck, trying to hide from her view. It was a shame that the glass reflected her face completely.
She didn't seem as confident and rational as before, but fragile and dependent, as if, if Connie let go at that moment, she might actually burst into tears.
'And to think I was jealous of a child who can't even ride a Ferris wheel.'
Connie knew the phrase "Don't judge a book by its cover" very well, yet it was inevitable that she would end up forming false ideas about Asha.
She was so perfect at what she did that her mistakes and weaknesses were overshadowed. Sometimes Connie thought Asha wasn't even human, but an alien pretending to be one.
However, if she really thought about it, it wasn't the first time Asha had acted so evasively.
Her first reaction upon seeing her had been to faint. Her physical health didn't seem very good, and she had several disabilities. Without someone to care for her, it would be difficult for her to live a normal life.
Asha felt anxious when she was alone and, on one occasion, covered Connie's room in blood while she recklessly went out to explore the magical creature in her backyard.
She was afraid of her father and trembled when she looked him in the eyes. She acted spoiled with her mother to increase her TV time. And when situations reached extreme points, she tended to want to run away even though she was unable to walk, just like in the library and just like now on the Ferris wheel.
When there was no way out, she would cling to anything that gave her confidence, like a frightened animal.
Connie began to dismantle the imposing image of Asha piece by piece in her mind.
Asha was far from perfect. She was flawed and vulnerable like any child her age, and she cried when things were difficult.
Connie seemed to see a bit of herself in Asha. When she allowed herself to see her without bias, they seemed to have more similarities than differences.
Her fingers glided through Asha's hair as she patted her back lightly. There was no anxiety, frustration, or even the warmth of the early days.
She was genuinely comfortable sharing the same physical space, not as strangers who had come to share the same parents and the same house, but as close relatives.
Connie was allowing herself to see Asha as someone to protect, rather than an immaculate pedestal to admire.
And without realizing it, she began to express her thoughts aloud without much thinking.
"You know, Asha… I was scared of Ferris wheels before, too."
A distant memory appeared in her mind. She remembered her mother's tired, irritated face when she heard her crying, yet at the same time full of attentiveness, and Connie chuckled softly at the thought.
"I could barely leave Mommy's arms the first time I came here. I even made a scene."
She had insisted on leaving, but the moment she stepped forward, she grabbed her mother so tightly that the buttons on her shirt came undone. She even kicked her father in the face so hard that he fell backward, earning her weeks of punishment.
Compared to her, Asha was like an angel.
Connie pictured her mother and began to hum a familiar song, gently separating Asha's arms from her neck and settling her properly in her lap. Asha was so light that Connie didn't need to make any effort.
Connie hugged the startled Asha's waist and observed the beautiful view reflected through the window. The stars were simply majestic, just as much as, if not more than, in her memories.
"But… when she held me like this and showed me the view outside, it was so beautiful that I couldn't think about anything except how beautiful the city and the stars were."
She knew Asha couldn't hear her in that state, but Connie's heart was at peace. She moved a little closer to the window with Asha and began pointing things out one by one.
"See, we've reached the top. Look at Daddy. He's so small he looks like an ant. The view is as beautiful as ever… It's a shame you can't see it, Asha. But even when you're scared, you're really cute… heheh."
She really was a mischievous child. Even while encouraging Asha, she secretly hoped she would keep acting even cuter for a little longer. In fact, she even wished the Ferris wheel would slow down just to make the moment last.
However, Asha's tightly closed eyes opened, revealing a light that hadn't been there before. Large emerald eyes gazed out the window, filled with emotion.
Asha's feelings had never been so clear as in that moment. Connie was mesmerized by the cautious movement of her eyes as they scanned the surroundings, too afraid to notice details, yet paradoxically too restless to look away.
Her finger cautiously touched the window until, at some point, both hands rested against it.
A smile appeared on Connie's face as she saw Asha's mouth slightly open in surprise.
"It was worth coming to the Ferris wheel in the end."
Just as her mother had made that moment a precious memory for Connie, she hoped this could become a precious memory for Asha.
Her attention lasted only a few seconds before she looked away and sat calmly beside her. Asha then opened her bag and began to write, a little more erratically than usual.
She timidly raised the notebook to her face and hid behind her words.
[I'll be your friend.]
[Don't be sad.]
[It's okay now.]
For a moment, Connie felt her heart stop.
The turbulent image of Asha then came to her mind, from the moment she grabbed her sleeve to the moment she pulled her toward the Ferris wheel while avoiding Doug.
In fact, her behavior began to grow more incomprehensible from the moment Connie ended the argument with her father.
Even the timing of her negative thoughts and Asha's interruptions seemed to intertwine.
So all this was because she was worried about me?
Connie thought she had hidden her emotions well, but it didn't take more than a single glance for Asha to realize something was wrong. Suddenly, Connie remembered a study she had read a long time ago.
People with disabilities were usually better at reading others' emotions. This happened for a number of reasons, from nonverbal communication being more prominent in this group to it being a way of understanding and keeping close the people they depended on.
And apparently, Connie had become one of those important people for Asha.
On the first day, she treated her as if she were invisible, and even now, Connie still had some reservations about how Asha saw her. How did Asha truly see her? A stranger? A friend? A strange child? Or nothing at all?
Unless she spoke, there was no way to understand. But perhaps Asha, in her own way, had always shown her consideration. Whether it was the gentle touch she gave her in the car, or now, offering to be her friend upon noticing her sad expression.
If that wasn't Asha saying she saw her as someone important, there was nothing else to say. At that moment, Connie felt the last thread separating her from being involved with Asha snap.
A bond as strong as blood formed without her awareness as tears streamed down her face.
Connie hugged Asha tightly, burying her face in her arms. Asha seemed disoriented by the sudden embrace, but eventually adjusted and began to calm her quietly.
The situation had reversed. Now, Asha was the only one remaining calm while Connie was the one in tears. Her little white dress was now soaked through with Connie's incessant crying.
"I'm sorry for thinking bad things about you. For being jealous of how Mommy treats you and for putting my burden on you."
Connie began to confess her wrongs like a sinner seeking forgiveness.
"To tell you the truth, I never really had a friend. It was all a lie. Most kids just laugh or make mean jokes about me. I didn't have the courage to tell Dad about it."
"I hate the way Mommy looks at you. She's never treated me that well. All she cares about are grades and my diet, but she's never really tried to understand me."
Tears fell even more with each statement, as if she were unloading all the weight onto Asha's small arms.
"I really am a bad child. More than once, I dreamed of Mom abandoning you and then going back to paying attention to me. But deep down, I knew none of it made sense…"
"The house is so suffocating. Mom and Dad have changed so much that I don't recognize them anymore. I'm scared that they won't care about me anymore, and that then nobody will care about me at all."
"Do I really belong here? I want to escape to somewhere where nobody knows me."
Her whispers mingled with tears as she spoke words she knew Asha couldn't even hear.
"I'm so lonely…"
A truth she had suffocated inside, hidden so deeply that even she barely noticed it.
After confessing her most intimate thoughts, her mind seemed to calm, and a feeling like a great weight being lifted from her shoulders appeared.
"…I'm sorry. In the end, I ended up taking my problems out on you, didn't I?"
Connie looked up and saw two closed eyes resting peacefully, along with steady, tranquil breathing. Asha had fallen asleep in that position.
"Pft…"
Strangely, Connie could only laugh in tears as she watched Asha act that way. She really was consistent in her own way.
She picked up the sleeping Asha in her arms and adjusted the strands of hair that had fallen over her face. When she looked down, she saw that her stomach was soaked with the marks of her tears.
Her expression probably wasn't very good, and she would likely have to face her father's doubtful gaze.
But at that moment, Connie didn't want to think too much about it.
Still stroking Asha's unruly hair, a serene smile formed on her face.
"Friends… I like it."
It turned out that people could shine just as brightly as stars, or at least that was what Connie thought as she looked at Asha's sleeping face.
*
While Connie and Asha ventured onto the Ferris wheel, Doug watched the cabin rise before his eyes, out of sight, toward the night sky.
Doug remained still, gazing upward in a trance, his fingers pressed against his palm, leaving red marks, as if he were holding an inner tension that couldn't be easily described.
But little by little, watching the cabin rise, his fingers yielded, and his hand relaxed. The air he had unintentionally held in his lungs escaped, and his eyes finally returned to the reality before him.
He moved away from the line of people toward a small, old wooden bench nearby, hidden from the park lights in a more secluded spot, and sat down silently.
His expression lacked his usual smile and mannerisms; instead, a seriousness and even a little regret remained. He rested his face on his fist, looking at the people in line waiting for their turn.
Among the various figures, one caught his attention: a father carrying his daughter while she ate ice cream in his arms. He was chatting with the woman beside him about something while the child occasionally left light ice cream stains.
Her face was smeared with ice cream, but the parents laughed among themselves at that trivial moment. It was a simple moment, but observing this scene, Doug felt a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue and a weight on his back, and his fingers involuntarily retracted at the image.
"I'm a terrible father."
A hoarse murmur escaped his mouth without much thought.
Doug was a quiet person with a stable job. He moved from place to place due to his contract, but his salary had remained the same for several years.
Just like his salary, Doug had always been a consistent person. There were no fights in his relationship with Priyanka, no arguments; just light conversations, sometimes not even that.
Regarding his daughter, Doug maintained some communication through light conversations and weekend dinners when he had time off. Connie was a well-behaved and studious girl, characteristics she likely inherited from her mother.
He always felt he had a good relationship at home, as if he were adequately fulfilling the role of "father" and providing stability to his family. He didn't externalize his emotions, and if something was trivial, he was willing to suppress it for the greater good.
He genuinely loved his wife and daughter, but feelings aside, his actions were always lukewarm and passive, as if he were a secondary character in his own life, trapped in this image of the ideal father that he himself had created and submitted to.
But then a new member appeared in his family. His wife called him, informing him as if the fact had been established without asking his opinion, but Doug, as always, accepted and smiled.
Besides being a good "father," Doug was also an understanding and attentive "husband" to his wife. If she wanted it, then why not accept it? Initially, he would try to argue a little, but if she truly wanted it, he would inevitably give in.
The girl, upon seeing him, expressionlessly avoided his touch, a girl with beautiful yet dull green eyes, with wavy black hair, in a hospital gown. Nothing could be read in her expression, like an emotionless doll.
His wife had spent days without sleep, working excessively beyond her capacity, probably because of the girl. She was likely a patient who needed a lot of care, so Doug didn't think much about it.
However, from the very first second, their coexistence was chaotic. Asha fainted on the first day, and his wife panicked. It took Doug a long time to calm her down, but her expression remained the same until she woke up.
That was enough for Doug to understand how heavy the girl's presence was on his wife. But like any event, the days passed.
Doug's attempts at interaction were avoided; she wouldn't try to communicate or look at him. He, however, would only laugh as if it were inevitable and move on.
His daughters seemed to be getting along well, at least; his wife showed more life and enthusiasm than before. She spent more time at home with the family and even slept better at night. At least, Doug didn't wake up in the middle of the night to the sight of electronic lights and the smell of coffee, which was a good sign.
While everyone else changed, Doug remained consistent. Nothing seemed to have really changed in his life, except for the surprising events the girl brought from time to time.
But who would have thought that even he would change? Suddenly, he discovered that the girl he had always kept his distance from was the same one who folded his clothes, the same one who arranged his shoes, the same one who prepared his seat and belongings.
In invisible ways, Asha had entered his life. And when Doug realized this fact, he felt a strange sense of connection forming. He would pretend not to notice while watching the girl secretly demonstrate her care and affection, as if it were a secret between the two of them.
This secret made him feel special and important. Although the girl's caution and precision were a little unsettling, seeing her carefully prepared clothes and belongings gave Doug an energy at work that he didn't know he possessed.
Sometimes he would go to work with a smile on his face, boasting to his colleagues about his daughter, which would make them frown and avoid him for being too verbose.
But then they went to the library together, and she interacted with him for the first time. Words couldn't explain how happy he was to approach her openly, but then he noticed something while looking at those trembling fingers.
The reason she communicated with him, the reason she was so cautious and eliminated any inconvenience from her life, wasn't simple displays of affection.
It was fear, the fear of irritating him, of being a burden to him.
And then Doug lost control; he interrogated her, feeling pure indignation about the kind of relatives who had raised her.
More than regret for his previous misunderstanding, he felt powerless and frustrated. The girl had, at a certain point, occupied a space in his heart that was difficult to describe in words. And seeing the traces of trauma left by her previous parents following her made Doug want to take justice into his own hands.
Even after those events, from the restaurant to the moment at the amusement park, Doug could barely contain himself. He decided to go to the shooting range to vent his frustrations and get a toy for his daughters in the process.
But in the end, he didn't hit a single target, yet ended up being the only one to receive a prize.
Doug looked at the large brown teddy bear beside him. It had two buttons for eyes and a soft, large belly with a big navel.
He picked up the toy and stared at it intently.
"Did she give me this toy out of consideration or fear?"
There was a clear pattern. If Doug showed anxiety, Asha would find a way to solve his problems, even indirectly. When he showed interest in a toy, she not only got the toy he wanted but also, surprisingly, obtained all the toys with minimal effort.
A highly capable child with abilities whose origin he didn't know. An unknown past, mental trauma, and a physical disability.
From those months of living together, Doug knew nothing more about her than any stranger who saw her for the first time would know.
He had never even bothered to ask, and wouldn't have if the facts hadn't been thrown in his face.
If a good father was someone who cared for his wife and children, what kind of father was he, who didn't even bother to get to know his own daughter?
His wife might be partly to blame for never telling him anything, but Doug was no less guilty for not seeking answers.
But the worst part was that, during the short conversation he had with Connie, he noticed that Asha wasn't the only one he didn't really know. The daughter who carried his own blood was also a stranger to him.
What were the names of her friends? What subjects did she like best? Was school fun? What kinds of books did she like to read? What shows did she like to watch?
Doug wasn't able to answer any of these questions.
After all, he never asked. He never tried to listen.
That's why seeing that father and mother eating ice cream with their daughter hurt so much.
That father could laugh peacefully next to his wife, but Doug couldn't even calm his wife down or argue with her. That father was able to hold his daughter in his arms and choose the ice cream she could eat, but Doug couldn't hold Asha or even know what flavor Connie would be happy to have.
Was this the ideal father? The ideal husband? Beyond those roles, Doug didn't even know who he really was.
He then tried to change. He tried to talk to Connie, to be more attentive, but the way she avoided him showed the level of distrust she had in being honest with him.
Doug wasn't stupid enough not to notice his daughter's suspicious actions. How long had she been facing things without ever talking to him? Would she ever even open up to him?
How could she, if even Doug didn't bother to understand?
He wasn't a good father.
He wasn't even a good husband.
He was a coward.
A passive man who avoided his responsibilities. The complete opposite of who he aimed to be.
Doug's fists tightened around the teddy bear, whose arm was now distorted by the force applied. Emotions, difficult to contain through his clenched teeth, surged incessantly.
Was it too late?
Was there still time to make amends for his mistakes?
He didn't know, but what options did he have? This was the least he could do.
His teeth, which had been grinding against each other, tried to relax, and a warm breath escaped his throat, filling the darkness. Inhaling the cool air, Doug adjusted his posture and stood up, looking at the large teddy bear, which grinned characteristically.
Doug then forced a similar smile, showing his white teeth from ear to ear.
As his grandfather used to say, even in the face of death, he would smile broadly. If there were no guns, he would use a knife; if there were no knives, he would use his teeth.
The battle wasn't lost when the bullets ran out; as long as there was strength to fight, the battle never ended.
At that moment, the battle was between Doug and his own complacency. To become a better father, he had to do things he had never done before.
If he didn't know, then he would ask, simple as that. There were many mistakes to correct, but he was no longer as ignorant as before.
To provide a better life for his daughters, his wife, and himself, Doug decided to learn from his mistakes and move forward.
"It must be time for them to leave, isn't it?"
Doug lifted his heavy body from the bench with a lighter expression; a weight seemed to have left his back along with the bench.
He went to the Ferris wheel and waited for people to get off one by one. In the middle of the crowd, the image of a little girl with curly hair and long, round glasses appeared.
On her shoulder, the peacefully sleepy face of another little girl could be seen. It was surprising that Connie could carry her so naturally, considering their similar physiques.
But more than her display of strength, Doug couldn't help but notice the red marks at the corners of her eyes and nose, as if she had secretly cried and tried to erase the evidence. Connie smiled shyly as she walked towards him.
"Uhm... I'm back, Dad," Connie said, as if trying to break the awkward silence between them. She didn't seem very willing to comment on her current state.
To say Doug wasn't curious was an understatement; he was dying to know what had happened on the Ferris wheel to leave Connie in this state. But his consideration and voice of reason resonated more strongly.
Now was not the time.
"Welcome back, but how about putting your sister in the wheelchair? Even if she's light, carrying her all the time will give you muscle aches."
The moment they left, Doug made sure to carry the travel belongings and the wheelchair.
"Oh, right..." Connie seemed relieved to see that he hadn't brought up the subject, then looked at the wheelchair for a second and quickly shook her head.
If she put Asha in the wheelchair, her father and everyone else would see the tear stain she had imprinted on her white dress. She had already been publicly humiliated, but she felt that exposing Asha's state would be an even greater level of humiliation.
Showing the evidence that she had cried in her younger sister's arms? She wouldn't allow it even if the world were ending tomorrow.
"I'm fine, Asha is really light hahaha..." her arms tightened firmly around the legs of the sleepy Asha, who was breathing peacefully. But Doug didn't easily accept that excuse.
"Then how about I carry her? She's sleeping, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem—"
"No! I mean, it's really fine!" said Connie in a trembling voice like that of a newborn deer. Her face was already red from the tip of her nose to her ears, and her eyes twitched as she coldly swallowed her own saliva.
Doug looked even more confused. Why did she seem even more anxious each time he tried to offer help? Was the bond between the two so strong that Connie felt a desire to monopolize Asha? However, his daughter wasn't the possessive type of person, but it was undeniable that their relationship was unique in its own way...
He decided to give in with a suspicious look and sighed as if there was nothing to be done.
"Alright, you can carry her. But if I see your arms trembling even a little, I'm going to carry both of you on my back."
The redness in Connie's face finally subsided, and her tense fingers relaxed their grip. As if to reassure her father that everything was alright, she adjusted Asha firmly on her back and looked at him with determination.
"Don't worry, I'm quite strong."
As promised, Connie carried the sleepy Asha on her back all the way to the car. To be honest, her arms began to tremble slightly halfway there. However, she endured the brief discomfort until the end.
Part of her motivation was the sharp stares directed at her every time she passed a new place.
Asha's exotic appearance, combined with the peculiarity of Connie carrying a girl of similar stature next to an adult man, earned her both funny and pitiful looks.
In the end, she wondered if carrying Asha had really been a good choice; it seemed her actions garnered even more attention than if she had simply carried her in the wheelchair.
Doug observed Connie's eccentric behavior with an apologetic face, but even after offering to carry her several more times, Connie vehemently refused, determined to stick to this attitude.
When they arrived at the parking lot, he opened the door for Connie, who skillfully sat Asha in the back seat and fastened her seatbelt. Doug folded the wheelchair and placed it in the trunk, while Connie sat beside Asha, offering a shoulder so she wouldn't sleep so uncomfortably.
They already slept together at night, so Connie didn't feel anything strange about being used as human support. Asha usually hugged her even more intrusively during sleep.
When Doug finished putting the toys and the wheelchair in the trunk, he went to the front seat and turned the key to start the car. Soft jazz played in the car, at a volume not too loud for Asha's sake—a futile action considering she was deaf. But at least his intentions were pure.
Through the rearview mirror, Doug could see Connie gazing at the scenery through the car window. The lights from the streetlights and houses passed by her face in the night air as the car moved at a smooth, tranquil speed.
One of the benefits of living in a more rural area was the beautiful trees along the way. The closer they got to their destination, the more beautiful the scenery became. He had deliberately taken a quieter route at a leisurely pace, creating ample space for conversation.
In this tranquil atmosphere, Doug restlessly clapped his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes glancing at the image of Connie and sleepy Asha in the rearview mirror every second.
His fingers danced across the steering wheel, sometimes more agitated, sometimes more discreet, until they rested rigidly as if they had decided to remain still.
Doug looked at the road and carefully chose his words. Without being too obvious or strange, with this intention he started a conversation.
"Hey, Connie. You know you can always count on me, right?"
But the moment he began to speak, those intentions vanished. Concern was clearly heavy in his voice.
"About that part about friends, you don't need to think too much about it. Don't feel like I'm trying to pressure you or anything, okay?"
Doug looked in the rearview mirror again, but Connie remained in the same posture with her hands over her face as if uninterested in discussing the topic.
Seeing the lack of response, Doug felt anxiety take hold of his heart and felt a weight in his chest.
"School... things aren't easy, are they?" He then decided to delve deeper into the subject. "Just like your mother, you always try to solve everything on your own. It's good to be independent, but there's no need to grow up so fast."
"..."
Silence filled the car again as Doug bit his lip, trying to filter his words. The car's headlights shone into the night sky, and it entered a green field of tall grass; the terrain became a little barren, but Doug skillfully took a smoother route.
He parted his lips and then closed them, focusing on the road ahead.
After leaving the barren terrain and entering a solid road again, Doug took a deep breath, finishing his thoughts.
"I'm not the most reliable father, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, you can always count on me."
Their house finally came into view, and Connie didn't say a single word. This silence was especially hard for Doug, who blamed himself for his negligence.
Childhood traumas lasted a lifetime, and he couldn't accept that his lack of attention had allowed such events to occur.
No parent wants to see their children suffer. His daughter's silence was like a silent message that he had failed as a father.
Without many words to say, Doug simply decided to convey his feelings unfiltered.
"Know that no matter how much you grow, in my eyes you will always be my beautiful little girl... I love you."
The car finally reached its final destination, a large, cozy-looking white house with some yellow flowers at the entrance, and a large, charcoal wood door came into view.
After parking the car in the garage, Doug finally looked back and saw Connie's sleepy face in her usual posture. Drool dripped from the corner of her mouth as if she had fallen into a deep sleep sometime ago, and in her arms, Asha lay with her seatbelts in an awkward position.
At that moment, Doug's expression turned as white as a sheet, and a laugh escaped him involuntarily. He gently approached Connie, kissed her forehead, and removed her glasses from her face. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and there was a mark from her glasses on her face and next to her nose.
As for Asha, before his hands touched her, Doug hesitated. The little girl had never allowed him to touch her before, and even when he had the opportunity, Connie defended her like an impenetrable shield.
Her face resting on Connie's seemed truly peaceful; her eyebrows were thin and delicate, and her skin was so white it was almost pale, giving her a slightly sickly air. Her small lips parted slightly in a peaceful breath. Her slightly wavy hair fell over her eyes in a rebellious position, giving her a casual and lazy air.
If Asha normally seemed impenetrable and difficult to approach, her sleeping figure carried the innocence one would expect from her age.
Feeling less intimidated by this image, Doug brought his stiff hands closer to her hair. His hands touched strangely, as if unsure of where to position themselves, but with each passing second, they seemed to adapt to the contact of the girl's soft strands.
Asha didn't seem tense or intimidated, but accepted his touch peacefully.
Looking at her so closely, Doug had to admit, this child was truly adorable. He wondered if he would ever be able to pet her when she was awake, but remembering the scene she made in the library and the park, that seemed still a long way off.
With a smile as if there wasn't much else to do, Doug held both sleeping figures in his arms. Connie rested on his right arm, drooling slightly on his shoulder. Asha remained more contained in his left arm, resting on Connie's shoulders.
In the end, he actually carried them both.
When Priyanka saw Doug carrying them both in his arms, her open mouth, about to question why he had taken so long, immediately closed.
Seeing her awkward reaction, Doug smiled broadly as if he found her reaction funny. He went to Connie's room and carefully laid her on the blanket, then placed Asha beside her. It was a little cramped, but considering their size, there was still plenty of space.
He turned on the room's air conditioning and then quietly closed the door, allowing the two little angels to sleep peacefully. When Doug turned around, a glass of iced tea touched his cheek, causing him to open his eyes wide as he felt the sweet aroma rise to his nostrils.
In front of him, Priyanka, with her typical sharp gaze, stood there, dressed in a casual white shirt and light, breathable shorts.
"So, how was it?"
Doug accepted the cup of tea and took a sip; the green tea seemed to taste a little sweeter than usual, as if Priyanka were showing some leniency in her usual strict attitude towards diets.
"It was great, there were a few unexpected things along the way, but the kids had a lot of fun."
Priyanka's eyebrows rose slightly at the word "unexpected," but before she could ask more about it, she saw Doug's serious eyes and stopped herself from speaking.
"But before we talk about that, I think we need to talk."
Doug had many questions to ask about the peculiar girl who had become his daughter, and also things to discuss about raising his daughter, who had come crying from the Ferris wheel.
Sensing Doug's serious demeanor, Priyanka stopped drinking her tea and sat down at the dining table. Doug followed and sat across from her, a small lamp between them.
Priyanka picked up her brown teacup, lightly caressing the rim, and then asked Doug a question.
"Where do you want to start?"
There was no need to say what the topic of conversation was, as they were both aware of it.
Doug drank the slightly overly sweet tea and then separated the lamp from between them.
"From the beginning."
This night would be a very long one for these two. The content of the conversation would remain just between them. Neither Asha nor Connie, who slept peacefully clinging to each other, would know the content of the conversation.
But one thing was certain. The wheels of fate had veered far from the original plan Asha so desperately wanted to maintain.
Misunderstandings had become greater truths than the established facts under the union of two equally chaotic thinking minds.
Perhaps even if she defended tooth and nail that it was all a misunderstanding and even dared to reveal her identity, she would emerge as the only liar in the story.
Even if she wanted to escape, her mere presence or absence was chaotic enough to decide the fate of the world.
Fortunately, the outrageous contents of that dinner table would never reach her ears.
The mental health of the little Peridot would be preserved in the realm of dreams.
*
Author's note
This intermission was one of the longest things I've ever written in my entire life, and also a final gift for those who love long chapters.
The next chapters will be shorter, more focused, and condensed. From this point on, things are likely to get even better, as I'm working hard to make that happen!
I'm counting on your review and comments ❤️❤️
*
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