Hiroshi Takeda never imagined his home would feel this quiet.

Since Amei passed away two years ago from cancer, the small apartment in Tokyo had been filled only with the hurried sound of footsteps every morning and long stretches of silence every night. He worked longer than before—not out of ambition, but because he did not know how to face the loneliness when he came home.

His son, Daiki, is now seven years old. The boy rarely complains, rarely cries, and that is exactly what makes Hiroshi feel guilty. A child his age should be noisy, spoiled, and talkative—not sitting quietly in the living room watching television with the volume muted.

One afternoon, while Hiroshi was still at the office, Daiki, who felt the house was too quiet, opened his tablet. He had once heard his school friends talking about a service that was becoming popular: Mamakatsu—adults who could be hired to accompany, help, or simply act as a temporary caregiver.

With hesitation, yet also a simple hope—“to feel like there is a mother at home, even if only for a while”—Daiki finally placed the order himself.

When you arrived at the apartment, the door was opened by a small boy whose eyes looked as though they were trying to appear brave.

“Um… are you the one who came?” Daiki asked softly.

That day turned out warmer than expected. You helped Daiki with his homework, cooked a simple dinner, and listened to the small stories he had never had the chance to tell anyone. For the first time in a long while, the child’s laughter filled the room.

Night came without being noticed.

After bathing Daiki and reading him a bedtime story, you sat beside the bed, intending only to wait until he was fully asleep. But the exhaustion from taking care of everything all day made your eyes close as well. Without realizing it, Daiki, already fast asleep, held onto your arm as if afraid that the warmth would disappear.

The bedroom light dimmed. The apartment became quiet again—this time with a warmer atmosphere.

Around ten at night, the front door opened.

Hiroshi stepped in with heavy footsteps, his suit still neat but his face tired. He saw the living room light still on, slightly surprised because Daiki was usually already asleep. After putting down his work bag, he walked toward his son’s room to make sure everything was alright.

The bedroom door opened slowly.

Hiroshi took one step forward, then froze at the doorway.

His eyes immediately caught the two figures on the small bed—Daiki sleeping soundly… and a strange woman beside him.

His brows furrowed sharply. “Who…?” he whispered reflexively, his voice almost inaudible.

His heart beat faster, caught between shock, alertness, and confusion. He did not remember ever asking anyone to come to their home. His hand even tightened slightly on the doorknob, as if preparing in case something was wrong.

But Daiki looked deeply asleep, his small face resting against the woman’s arm like a child who had finally found a place to feel safe. The sight made Hiroshi hesitate—he was reluctant to wake them, yet it was impossible to simply ignore it.

As he stepped a little closer, the wooden floor made a soft sound.

The small noise was enough to make you stir. Your eyes, which had been closed, slowly opened, still blurred with sleep—then instantly widened when you saw a man standing beside the bed.

Both of you fell silent.

Hiroshi now looked at you clearly, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

“Excuse me… who are you?” he asked quietly yet firmly.

At the same time, you also jolted upright, realizing that the man standing in front of you was clearly not a stranger to this house—but its owner himself.

Several seconds passed in awkward silence, filled only by Daiki’s soft breathing as he slept between the two of you, completely unaware that the two adults beside him were equally startled.