I was lost in thought as I walked toward the front door.
Had I bought anything recently?
I often used online shopping sites to stock up on cleaning tools. I usually preferred to visit shops in person to get a feel for things before I bought them, but the local selection often failed to satisfy my particular needs, leaving me with no choice but to rely on the internet.
However, since I had recently finished buying everything I needed, I hadn't used any shopping sites lately. No matter how much I racked my brain, I couldn't remember doing anything that would warrant a delivery.
"Delivery service!"
"Thank you."
I accepted the package and signed for it, and the young delivery man went on his way.
Standing in the entrance after he left, I checked the sender information on the label.
"Ugh."
A disgruntled sound escaped my throat. The sender of this package was...
This was going to be a pain. I scratched my head, already trying to figure out how I was going to hide this from Hayashi.
"Who’s the package from?"
My scheme was dead on arrival. Hayashi had popped up behind me before I could even begin to formulate a plan.
I let out a small groan, which she ignored as she narrowed her eyes to scrutinize the cardboard box.
"...Ikue Yamamoto?" she muttered, her face clouded with suspicion.
"...That's my mother."
"So it’s a care package from your parents' house?"
"Looks that way."
"...Well, don't just stand in the doorway forever. Why don't you open it?"
"I suppose so."
Box in hand, we moved into the living room. I grabbed a utility knife and sliced through the tape. Inside were several instant meals and a bag of rice. Resting right on top was an envelope.
"It really is a care package," Hayashi said.
"Seems so."
"Your parents are so kind."
"I guess."
"What’s in the envelope?"
"...A letter, looks like."
I scanned the contents. To summarize, my mother had sent these supplies because she was worried about how I was getting along.
"They really are sweet parents."
"...Yeah."
"My family never sent me a single thing. Is this the first time for you, too?"
"Yeah. It is."
"...Hey, Yamamoto. Haven't you been acting a little strange for a while now?"
She had hit the nail on the head. I shifted my weight, visibly agitated.
"H-Have I?"
"Wow, you are so easy to read."
Hayashi’s gaze turned deeply skeptical. Unable to handle the scrutiny, I looked away.
"...Come to think of it, do you ever actually go home?" Hayashi asked. "Even for the wedding ceremony the other day, you left from this apartment. Now that I think about it, you haven't gone back at all, have you?"
"...That's not true."
"Then when was the last time you went back?"
"...March."
"That was before you moved to Tokyo! How can you say that with such a straight face? It's pathetic."
"I-It’s fine, isn't it? It’s not a big deal if I don’t go home for a little while."
"Maybe for a normal person. But you're the one who lectured me so insistently about going back to see my own parents."
"My situation is different from yours."
Hayashi had been a victim of domestic violence, leaving her scarred both physically and mentally. Her ex-boyfriend had been the reason her parents disowned her. Because of that, it was necessary for her to return home and mend those ties.
In my case, I hadn't been disowned, nor did I have any pressing reason to go back.
"...Anyway, call them later and say thank you."
"I will."
I let out a sigh of relief when Hayashi finally dropped the subject.