Having Reincarnated a Million Times I Won’t Let My Guard Down Even in a Peaceful World - Chapter 95



95 – Before the Invitation

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Considering the current trend, there is no longer any pressure for women to marry in their twenties or to be labeled as “leftover women” if they are unmarried after thirty.

…Well, it’s not entirely nonexistent, but those who say such things are considered stubborn old folks and are not paid much attention by many.

However, it’s around the late twenties when acquaintances start getting married, and I have also had the opportunity to attend a few friends’ weddings since Sara was born.

…Let’s not lie.

I did not think of it as being “fortunate to attend weddings.” Regardless of the type of event organized by others, they are generally bothersome, so I couldn’t consider it as “fortunate.”

I was someone who couldn’t rejoice in other people’s happiness.

Honestly, I could only think of it as “whatever” to attend the wedding of an acquaintance from the same class, especially when they were marrying someone I didn’t know at all. I really didn’t want to go, and most of all, I didn’t want to give gifts…

However, I always accepted and attended wedding invitations.

The preparations were troublesome. It took up time. And a not insignificant amount of money flew away.

However, I wanted to convey the meaning of “congratulations.”

There was, of course, a judgment that it was necessary to attend the wedding for the sake of social skills. But more than that, the “number of attendees” would lead to confidence in the future.

The number of other people celebrating oneself (although it feels rather cold to consider it as a “number”) becomes a kind of “strength,” although it’s hard to express it well.

That’s why I never hesitated to attend.

I hesitated, and in truth, I thought “I don’t want to go,” but that regret always came after I had sent back the reply card indicating my attendance.

But now, I am frozen, unable to even mark “attendance.”

The table, also used for meals, was neatly arranged, with only an invitation and Sara, who would soon turn two, sitting on it.

I put Sara back on my lap and look at the invitation.

It was an invitation to Anna’s wedding.

This sudden invitation greatly confused me.

If I were told, “Anna doesn’t have the obligation to report every detail of her relationship to me,” I would think that is entirely correct. However, it was so abrupt that I felt a slight sense of dissatisfaction.

After all… Anna took care of me during my nursery school days and has continued to look after me in various ways since then.

We have never been in a romantic relationship. There has never been any hint of that.

She was like an older sister to me, and I was like a younger brother to her.

I ponder over this. Sara tries to climb onto the table, but I stop her and look at the invitation again.

Yes, that’s probably why.

It’s because I have always felt her as a sister that I am so devastated. My heart can’t keep up with the fact that the kind sister who took care of me is suddenly not just an “older sister” but someone else’s wife.

Sarah tries to climb onto the table. I stop her.

Sarah shouts, “Desk!” I calmly explain the reasons why you shouldn’t climb on the desk…but reasoning doesn’t work with toddlers. Sarah struggles. I stop her. That’s where we eat and write, not your stage!

I embrace struggling Sarah, savoring her soft body while I ponder…yes, Anna is my sister, and I am her younger brother…Sarah frees me from my restraint.

I stop Sarah. What is it? What drives you to climb onto the table so desperately…you’ve been wanting to do that step exercise lately…you have the potential to become a top performer in the future, but now is not the time…so don’t climb on the table.

I ponder about Anna. Come to think of it, we met in kindergarten, and then we attended the same school for a while…don’t climb on the table. Don’t be satisfied with such a low place. You are meant for greater heights. So, stay away from the table.

Your beloved “Ryuoh-sama” must have said it too, “Fuhahaha! Feel free to do as you please! But manners are important!”…yes, climbing on the table is bad manners. Understand, my daughter.

I ponder…yes, speaking of “Ryuoh-sama,” it was a show I watched in my childhood, and even now, as I approach thirty, it’s still airing. Amazing, Ryuoh-sama…it has a longer lifespan than more than half of my own experiences…

No, I wanted to ponder about Anna.

However, lately, my daughter has become more agile, moving a lot. Climbing a lot.

Vertical movement seems to be something common among beast-type individuals, but as a parent, I’m more concerned about horizontal movement, so I’d rather she stay quiet…that kind of feeling.

Parents can’t even find the time to ponder.

I reach my hand under Sarah’s armpit and lift her high.

Although she was so eager to climb onto the table, it seems she doesn’t really have a fixation on high places in general. Even though I lifted her higher than the table, she looks at me with a questioning expression, like “Why?”

Or rather…now that I look at her again, she’s gotten so big…

When she was born, she seemed small enough to hold with just one hand (although I’ve never actually held her with just one hand), but now I have to hold her with both hands to make sure she doesn’t fall.

Children grow up so fast, and parents don’t even have time for a little pondering.

On a whim, I hand Sarah a pen and make her face the table.

And then, I ask her to draw a circle on the invitation.

Sarah exudes a serious determination to fulfill her mission and tries to put the pen in her mouth, so I hurriedly stop her.

But Sarah looks dissatisfied and tries to put the pen in her mouth again. I stop her. Sarah resists. Stop it. Stop it! You can’t put everything in your mouth!

After some struggle, I manage to calm down the crying Sarah and, hesitantly, I ask her to draw a circle on the invitation once again.

Finally, Sarah seems to understand my intention and draws a big circle around it.

That circle covers most of the invitation.

Well, I expected that.

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You see, ideally, Sarah would have drawn a circle for either “absence” or “attendance,” and I would have followed accordingly…

But children don’t give answers to my doubts.

So, with hesitation, I draw a circle for “attendance” myself.

“Even adults have doubts,” I tell Sarah.

Although there doesn’t seem to be much understanding, Sarah takes the ballpoint pen from my hand and draws a new circle.

Thus, invitations with one circle each marked “attendance” and “absence” were completed.

No, I’ll attend.