Chapter 205 - Happy Life
The sun painted the sky in orange and gold hues.
Kuro and Akari sat side by side on the wooden porch of their house where they have lived for many years.
The tree that they planted after they have moved into the house became tall and its branches swayed slightly in the autumn breeze.
Cheerful voices filled every room of the house.
Their daughter was setting the dinner table with her husband.
Their grandchildren were running around the hallways playing and laughing so loudly that even the family dog started barking.
One little boy came on the porch.
"Grandpa!"
"After dinner, can you tell us a story?"
Kuro smiled.
"Of course."
"What kind?"
"The story of how Grandma got lost at the summer festival!"
Akari quickly objected.
"I wasn’t lost!"
"I was... exploring!"
The grandchildren laughed.
Kuro smiled.
"I think you said this thirty years ago."
"It was true then, and it’s true now."
The grandchildren rushed inside the house, already talking about which story to listen to first.
Silence fell on the porch.
It was a pleasant silence.
Akari leaned against Kuro’s shoulder like she did many times.
"Listen to them," she whispered.
"They are so energetic."
Kuro nodded.
"They remind me of someone."
She smiled.
"You mean me?"
"I was not going to say this."
"Liar."
"I was definitely going to say this."
She laughed her usual free laughter that accompanied her for many years.
After some time, she gazed towards the sunset.
"You know..."
"When we were young, I thought that happiness would be something really big."
"Something really unforgettable."
"A dream job."
"A perfect house."
"A one-time adventure."
She smiled gently.
"But when I think now..."
"My best memories are really simple."
She listed them on her fingers.
"Breakfasts on Sundays."
"Helping with homework."
"Fireworks watching."
"Falling asleep during movies."
"And drinking tea with you while doing nothing."
Kuro gently squeezed her hand.
"I feel the same."
"The extraordinary moments were really great."
"But the ordinary days..."
"They became our life."
A gentle breeze blew over the porch.
Akari suddenly laughed to herself.
"Why?"
"I just remembered something."
She looked at him with playful eyes.
"I never told you about a bet."
"A bet?"
"Many years ago."
"When we started dating."
She nodded proudly.
"I made a secret bet with myself."
Kuro raised his eyebrows.
"And what is it?"
She smiled with the same mischievous look that she had since university.
"I bet that someday..."
"You will smile more often than me."
He laughed quietly.
"And?"
"I won."
"You smile all the time now."
"You just do not see it."
Kuro thought for some time.
Then he looked out of the window at the family around the dinner table.
His daughter.
His grandchildren.
His wife.
His home.
He smiled.
"I suppose you are right."
Akari laid her head more comfortably on his shoulder.
"I usually am."
The sun disappeared from the horizon.
Golden light turned into the color of twilight.
In the house someone shouted that dinner was ready.
Neither of them rose from the place immediately.
They just sat there holding each other’s hands being grateful that the happiest story that they have lived is not the story about extraordinary adventures.
It was the story of creating an ordinary life with the person they loved.
And to them...
It was more than enough.
After dinner the house became lively as usual.
The grandchildren ran between the living room and the garden while the adults talked about old stories.
Someone suggested taking a family photo.
"Everyone outside!" cried their daughter.
"It will be dark soon!"
Groans immediately sounded.
The youngest grandchildren complained that they are eating dessert.
One demanded that they should bring a stuffed rabbit in the photo.
Another one went missing, only to be found behind the garden shed along with the family dog.
Akari laughed so much that tears flowed from her eyes.
"Nothing has changed."
Kuro smiled.
"What do you mean?"
"Our family cannot stand still for more than thirty seconds."
Eventually, everyone gathered under the old cherry tree that they planted in the first year of their marriage.
The tree was not taller than Kuro’s shoulder then.
But now its branches proudly overarched the whole garden.
Their daughter stood near the tree and gently touched its bark.
"I grew up with this tree."
"So did we," Kuro answered.
The photographer adjusted the camera.
"Everyone ready?"
Almost.
Suddenly one of the grandsons rushed to Kuro.
"Grandpa!"
"Can I stand next to you?"
"Of course."
The little boy put his hand in Kuro’s.
Another granddaughter rushed to Akari.
"I want Grandma!"
Akari gladly put her arm around her.
"There."
"Perfect."
The camera timer counted down.
Three...
Two...
One...
Right before the shutter closed, Akari whispered without looking away from the camera,
"Kuro."
"Hm?"
"I am still glad that I was brave enough to confess first."
He smiled.
"So am I."
The camera caught that silent conversation.
Not the words.
Just the smiles.
A couple of minutes later everyone gathered to look at the photo.
"It’s wonderful!" cried their daughter.
The grandchildren pointed at themselves.
"I blink!"
"My hair looks funny!"
"I am taller than last year!"
Akari looked at the photo for a long time.
There were wrinkles on her face and Kuro’s now.
Gray hair replaced black hair of their youth.
But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the same gentle young man who laughed under the fireworks and accepted her clumsy confession without any hesitation.
She quietly put her hand in his.
"I think this is my favorite photo."
Kuro looked from the photo to the family surrounding them.
Laughing children.
Playing grandchildren.
Friends who became family because of years.
His daughter who smiles the same way Akari used to smile.
He nodded.
"I think mine too."
The breeze brought sounds of laughter through the garden.
When the stars slowly appeared in the sky, Kuro understood that memories are not created in a single dramatic moment.
They are created in ordinary days, one by one, until those ordinary days become a lifetime to remember.
Looking at everyone whom he loved, Kuro felt gratitude.
This was their life that they have created together.
And it was more beautiful than they could have ever imagined.
The house slowly got silent as the night deepened.
One after another, the grandchildren went to bed after a day full of fun.
His daughter took the youngest to the guest bedroom, covering him under the blanket before switching off the light.
Outside the garden was illuminated by the gentle moonlight.
Akari turned to Kuro with the usual glimmer in her eyes.
"Wanna go for a walk?"
He smiled.
"Only the two of us?"
She nodded.
"Just like before."
They walked along the empty street at a much slower pace than decades ago.
Neither of them seemed to mind.
They had spent so much of their lives running to complete their tasks: homework assignments, career, daughter bringing up, paying bills, doing homework, supporting at school tournaments, and so on.
Now, for the first time in years, they were not in a hurry to do anything but to enjoy each other’s company.
Getting to the little river path, Akari giggled.
"Do you remember our first summer festival?"
"I do."
"I was sure that I destroyed my confession."
"You confessed so fast that I could not get what you said at once."
She buried her face in her palms.
"Please, do not remind me."
"It was one of my favorite memories."
She peeked at him from under her palm.
"Really?"
Kuro nodded.
"It was honest."
"It was completely you."
Akari smiled and put her hands down.
"I guess, I have never been an elegant girl."
"I have never wanted you to be."
She gently pushed his shoulder, just like when they were young.
"You always knew how to cheer me up."
"I gained enough experience."
"Years of surviving me?"
He chuckled.
"Years of loving you."
Neither of them said a word for a moment.
Just the sound of river flowing broke the silence.
Akari held his hand, their fingers getting interlocked as naturally as ever.
"I used to be afraid of growing old," she admitted softly.
"I was sure that aging means losing all the bright and exciting things."
"And now?"
She looked at the sky above.
"Now I am sure that aging with the right person is exciting."
Kuro squeezed her hand.
"I totally agree with you."
When they came back home, the porch light was still on.
Looking through the living room window, they saw their daughter arranging tomorrow’s breakfast dishes while one of the grandchildren was sleeping on the couch with the book lying on his chest.
Akari stopped at the entrance.
"Our house is still noisy," she said softly.
Kuro smiled.
"It always will be."
She giggled.
"Good."
"I have never wanted a quiet house."
Together they entered the house which was filled with the same warmth of family, sound of creaking wooden floor and sense of home.
Kuro turned off the lights after looking around.
After all those years, he realized something simple.
A happy life cannot be measured by how amazing its bright moments are.
It can only be measured by how many ordinary evenings end like this one: going back home together holding each other’s hands.