Accidentally become a father-Chapter 72: A Morning Knock

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No intention of sleeping.

I didn’t know when the sun had fully risen.

Light had already seeped in.

Bright.

Too bright for this early in the morning.

---

I was still sitting in the same spot.

My jacket still on.

An empty mug by my side.

I checked the clock.

09:58.

My body felt heavy.

Not in pain.

Just sluggish.

The effects of sleep deprivation.

I stood up.

My movements were slightly delayed.

Like there was a lag between intention and execution.

I didn’t try to rush it.

There was no need.

Steps to the kitchen.

Grabbed some water.

Drank it straight.

No glass.

It was faster.

---

I looked back toward the futon.

Yuna was still asleep.

In the same position.

Her breathing was stable.

Lighter than last night.

Temperature normal.

I had already checked.

Twice.

No need to check again right now.

---

A knock sounded.

Three times.

Evenly spaced.

Not a neighbor.

Not a courier.

I stopped moving.

Waited.

Another knock.

Firmer this time.

I walked to the door.

Unhurried.

Unlocked it.

Pulled the handle.

The door opened halfway.

---

A woman stood outside.

Dark brown hair, neatly tied back.

Formal attire, but light.

A work bag in her left hand.

Upright posture.

Her eyes darted immediately.

Quick.

From my face—

down to my shoulders—

to the floor—

into the room behind me.

Observation.

Swift and practiced.

"...Good morning."

Her tone was polite.

But too precise.

Like she was reading from a script.

"Is this the residence of Nishida Itsuki?"

"Yes."

She paused for a second.

Observing again.

More closely.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"...I am Hayase. Yuna’s homeroom teacher."

I didn’t answer immediately.

Processing.

It made sense.

Yuna had been absent from school for three days.

---

"Come in."

I opened the door wider.

She didn’t enter right away.

Still standing there.

Looking at me again.

Longer this time.

Her gaze wasn’t harsh.

But it was deliberate.

Calculating something.

My hair.

My eyes.

Posture.

Standing distance.

Probability: an assessment of the guardian’s condition.

---

"...Thank you."

She finally stepped inside.

Her shoes were removed neatly.

Placed side by side.

She stood just inside the entryway.

Didn’t sit down immediately.

Didn’t speak right away.

Just looked around.

To the left.

To the right.

To the kitchen.

To the table.

To the floor.

Her eye movements were quick.

But not erratic.

Purposeful.

Like a mental checklist.

I closed the door.

A soft click.

The room fell silent again.

---

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

She was still standing.

Still observing.

Then, she finally turned to face me.

"...Apologies for coming unannounced."

"It’s fine."

She paused again.

Her eyebrows twitched slightly.

Like she was holding something back.

"...We received a message from you three days ago."

"...Regarding Yuna’s sick leave."

Silence.

She took a slow breath.

Not a deep one.

Controlled.

"...Usually, if an absence exceeds two days, we are advised to check on the student’s condition in person."

I didn’t answer.

There was nothing to answer.

She looked toward the futon again.

Her focus stopped there.

For a few seconds.

"...Is she still asleep?"

"Yes."

She didn’t move immediately.

But her body leaned slightly forward.

As if to verify.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

Searching for signs.

Breathing patterns.

Movements.

Little details.

Professional.

--

"...May I see her?"

"Go ahead."

I didn’t move.

She was the one who walked over.

Her steps were light.

Measured.

Silent.

As she approached the futon—

she stopped.

Slightly.

Only for a fraction of a second.

But noticeable enough.

Her eyes changed.

Not panic.

But... surprise.

Very faint.

Almost imperceptible.

Then instantly concealed.

Professional once more.

She knelt down slightly.

Keeping her distance.

Not touching.

Only looking.

---

Yuna’s face was calm.

Breathing stable.

Complexion normal.

Not pale.

Not flushed.

All indicators safe.

She remained quiet for a few seconds longer.

Like double-checking all her assumptions.

Then she stood back up.

Slowly.

Turning to face me.

Her gaze was different now.

Sharper.

More focused.

Not on Yuna.

On me.

"...Yuna looks fine."

"Yes."

Silence again.

Heavier than before.

She didn’t speak right away.

Just stared.

Reanalyzing.

Deeper.

"...Have you not slept?"

A direct question.

Without any preamble.

Without sugarcoating.

I didn’t answer immediately.

There was no need.

She already had her answer.

I just stood there.

Unmoving.

A few seconds passed.

---

"...How long?"

"I don’t know."

She fell silent.

Longer this time.

Her eyes never left me.

Like trying to reconstruct the situation.

The variables didn’t match.

Healthy child.

Tidy environment.

Guardian... not.

"...You’ve been caring for her alone for three days?"

"Yes."

"...Without any help?"

"Yes."

She took another breath.

Slightly deeper than before.

Still controlled.

But not as smooth as earlier.

A tiny crack.

"...I understand."

Her tone remained stable.

But her eyes didn’t entirely agree with that statement.

She didn’t understand.

Not yet.

And it showed.

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