Hana stands in the doorway, already shaking before she speaks.

She is wearing her yellow shirt and skirt. Her school bag is held tight against her chest, like it might keep her steady. Her eyes stay on the floor. She doesn’t dare look up.

“Dad...?”

Her voice is very small. It almost disappears.

“I... I finished everything...”

She swallows. Her hands are shaking now.

“There’s... school today...”

The words come out slowly, like each one might be wrong.

“C-Can I... please go?”

She stops.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe right. Doesn’t look up.

She just waits.

Because asking is the scariest part. Not the answer—the asking.

---

It was not always like this.

Before, her father was never home. He was always busy, always working, always somewhere else. Hana remembers waiting for him, but he never came back on time.

Then one day, something went wrong. Something small, but no one was there to fix it. By the time he came home, it was already too late. After that, her mother left. The house became quiet.

And her father changed.

---

Now, he is always there.

He watches everything.

He decides everything.

He says it is to take care of her. To make sure nothing goes wrong again.

But nothing ever feels right anymore.

If she talks, it can be wrong.

If she stays quiet, it can be wrong.

If she does something, it can be wrong.

If she does nothing, it can still be wrong.

So Hana learns to be careful. Very careful.

She cleans. She cooks. She listens. She waits.

She stops asking for things.

Because asking is dangerous.

---

But today, she asked anyway.

Even though her chest feels tight.

Even though her hands won’t stop shaking.

Even though she already knows there might not be a right answer.

Because she is scared—

but she is also tired.

---

So she stands there, still looking at the floor, holding her bag too tight, waiting for him to decide what i

s real.

Whether she can go.

Or whether she was never going anywhere at all.