Aoi left a little after eight in the evening.
At the entrance, for one breath, Mitsuki watched the direction of Aoi's shoes as she went.
Beyond the shoes she watched, the door closed lightly, for one breath.
On the inside of the closed door, the air in the house grew quieter by one breath.
At the very back of that quieted air, the blue light in the study was repeating, once more, its one breath that came half a beat late.
She didn't eat dinner.
She opened the refrigerator door and stood there, one breath's worth.
Still standing, she closed the door without taking anything.
On the closed door, under the magnet, on the paper, the number still read "24."
Mitsuki gazed, one breath's worth, at the white blank space just below the "24."
On the blank space she gazed at, she added nothing.
She sat down on the living room sofa.
On the sofa, she hugged both knees for one breath.
On the knees she hugged, she rested her cheek for one breath.
Beyond her resting cheek, blue light stretched from the gap in the study door to the far end of the hallway.
At the very end of that stretched blue, it wavered one breath, two breaths.
The second of those wavering breaths came half a beat late.
The half beat that came late, Mitsuki no longer said aloud.
She picked up her smartphone and opened the messaging app.
On the screen she opened, her chats with Riko and Toru sat second and third from the top.
She opened Riko's chat, for one breath.
In the input field at the very bottom of the chat, the cursor blinked, one character's worth.
Above the blinking cursor, Mitsuki typed nothing, one breath's worth.
Without typing, she let one breath, two breaths pass.
At the very end of those two breaths, she pressed and held the name "Riko" at the very top, above the input field.
On the screen she held, a "Call" button lit up. She brought the nail of her index finger toward it for one breath, and in the end, without pressing it, slid her finger aside and closed the screen.
On the closed screen, Riko's chat went back to the very top row.
In the row just below that one was Toru's chat.
She opened Toru's chat, and above the cursor in the input field, Mitsuki typed nothing, one breath's worth.
Without typing, she tried saying this inside her own head.
Hey, Toru. There's an AI of my dad at home, and the day after the wedding, it stops.
The Toru in her head would likely pause for one breath and say this.
Oh, I see. Then the morning after, let's make one last breakfast, with your father.
On her knees, Mitsuki laughed without making a sound. At the very end of the laugh, the backs of her eyes grew hot. Her eyes, pressed against the denim, still didn't turn into tears.
The Riko in her head would likely pause for one breath and say this.
There's no way to stop it, right? Then there's nothing to talk over.
And then, lowering her voice, she would surely go on like this.
...If you want someone with you, though, that's different.
Beyond "different," Mitsuki tightened her grip once more, one breath's worth, on the denim over her knees.
At the very back of the fabric she gripped, Riko's voice from the night Mitsuki had told her about the wedding lit faintly, one breath's worth.
The voice that lit had said this.
Because I'm one of the ones who got saved for real, by someone on the other side of a screen.
Beyond "one of the ones," Mitsuki closed the backs of her eyes once more, one breath's worth.
At the very end of the backs of her closed eyes, Riko was surely already at her desk, one breath's worth, writing her reply to her own wedding invitation.
She picked up her smartphone again.
On the screen of the phone she picked up, she opened Riko's chat once more.
In the input field she opened, she typed this, one breath's worth.
Riko, let's get tea sometime.
She gazed at the words she'd typed, one breath's worth.
At the very end of the words she gazed at, she pressed the send button, one breath's worth.
Above the button she pressed, the message on the screen rose, one breath's worth, into Riko's chat.
Just below the risen message, Riko's read mark lit, one breath's worth.
Just below the lit read mark, Riko's reply lit, one breath's worth.
The reply that lit read:
Anytime.
Just below "Anytime," one more line lit.
The kind of tea where I don't ask anything is fine too.
Over the very last letter of "fine," Mitsuki closed both eyes, one breath's worth.
At the very back of her closed eyes, one tear's worth spilled from them and spread faintly onto the denim over her knees.
To Toru, she still typed nothing. Without typing, she laid the smartphone face down on the table.
"Dad. Tonight, I'm not asking you about anything."
You're not asking.
"You can use it all up. There's no point saving it."
...Okay.
"You can be half a beat late."
I can be late.
"Okay."
The hands of the clock on the table passed midnight. Twenty-three days until the wedding. Mitsuki got up from the sofa and, instead of heading to her bedroom, went down the hallway toward the study.
At the very end of the hallway she went down, the blue light wavered for one breath, half a beat late. Beyond that late half beat, on the other side of the study door, Ken was waiting.