Letter Of Parents

When my parents were having an argument, my brother and I were put on the condenser fan unit out the window. We were tens of stories high. Our love-struck mother refused to let us back inside because he wanted our father to regret his decision. But that wasn't going to happen. Our father only felt that our mother was annoying. He then went out of the house after slamming the door behind him. Our mother was infuriated as she pointed as us. "If it weren't for you two drawbacks, I would have divorced him a long time ago. Shut your mouths or you can forget about coming back in!" My tears were blew dry by the cold wind. I swore inwardly that I would never forgive them. Later on, when our father was drunk driving and accidentally rammed into our mother. The two of them became disabled due to the car accident. The insurance company paid us over 1 million dollars, but I chose not to treat them.

In the middle of Tokyo’s relentless rush, two strangers cross paths—by accident, in the most ridiculous way, and at the most unexpected moment—yet it feels as if the universe had quietly arranged it all. What follows are hesitant steps, faltering words, and small messages that slowly create a warm, quiet space between them. Tokyo Love Letter: Hibiki is a story where silence speaks, where ordinary days suddenly begin to matter, and where someone appears out of nowhere… only to become a place to return to, and a space to simply be oneself. This isn’t a story about falling in love quickly, but about feeling it grow—quietly, unexpectedly—through coincidences, through distance, and through the little things we never meant to hold on to.

My wife has long yearned for a child. One day, she finally becomes pregnant after spending the night with a college student. Overjoyed, she plans to keep it a secret until the baby is born. However, at the hospital, I catch her red-handed. Losing control, I demand to know why she would betray me, especially after all the billion-dollar deals I've secured for her. Without a flicker of remorse, she hands me the divorce papers. "You're infertile, and my desire to conceive has been a constant struggle. On the other hand, Ed is young, passionate, and protective. I'm going to marry him and start the family I've always wanted. Sign the papers. As long as we part on good terms, your place in the company is secure." My refusal only fuels her relentless revenge. She not only has me thrown in prison but also seizes every one of my assets. In the end, she even forces my parents, who suffered from heart disease, onto a drop tower ride. "Sign off on the divorce, and they'll be safe. Refuse, and you'll see them die on that ride."

Financial reporter Zoey, known for her pride and icy beauty, and with a formidable business acumen, finds herself at the center of a scandal on the very day she and financial tycoon Barlen are to get their marriage license. An insider exposes her, claiming that she loves only Barlen's wealth and that their marriage is merely a product of her exquisite acting skills. Unaware of the brewing storm, Zoey and Barlen are in the midst of obtaining their license when the news breaks. Barlen, upon reading the revelations, 'borrows' Zoey's phone and promptly turns it off, facing the onslaught of public opinion with firm evidence in hand. Surrounded by media reporters, Barlen is bombarded with questions about his perspective on the scandal. He deliberately twists the narrative: "My wife, she doesn't just love my money. Could she possibly love someone else's?" The reporters press on, clarifying their query: "Do you mean she only loves money, not you as a person?" Barlen remains composed: "She loves my money, and I love her as a person. Is there a problem with that?" In a single sentence: He redeems her with all his love and warmth. How could I not be enamored with someone like you?

During the year that changed my life, my high school homeroom teacher called me to the corridor and asked if I was the heroine of the dirty scandal that shook the whole school. “I know you’re here on a scholarship because of your family’s underprivileged background, but you can’t just do anything for money!” As everyone threw me strange looks, she continued smugly, “Don’t deny it. The mole on the girl’s neck is just like yours!” I calmly wiped off the ink stain on my skin, revealing my unblemished neck. My teacher turned red in the face. Unfortunately for her, I had been reborn. This time, I was not going to fall into the same traps.

Despite dreaming of attending university all my life, I ended up stuck in my farming village. I married my brother-in-law and became my nephew’s stepmother. This all happened because my sister died trying to make money for my tuition fees on the day my results came out. I thought I had failed to secure a place at university and stopped thinking about higher education out of guilt. I married my brother-in-law according to my sister’s wishes. To pay for my sins, I raised my nephew and treated him like my own son. I made money and tutored him so that he could get into Northside University. In the end, I developed late-stage cancer. Before dying, I attended my nephew’s celebration, but he publicly accused me of being a homewrecker while my husband agreed that I had seduced him. They brought out my sister, dead for eighteen years, and made me apologize to her. It was then that I found out she had faked her death and used my university admission letter to finish her study. She had become a university lecturer after tricking me into taking care of her family. Outraged, I had a cerebral hemorrhage. When I woke up, I found I had gone back to the day my sister faked her death.

Après que ma vingtième demande de lien mental ait été ignorée par mes parents, j'ai foncé vers le Conseil des affaires de la meute. Le rapport médical en main, j'ai lancé sans préambule : « Bonjour, je veux renoncer à mon identité au sein de la meute... et IMMÉDIATEMENT ! » Dix minutes plus tard, mes parents ont fait irruption dans la salle, traînant ma sœur adoptive Elsa. Tous les trois avaient l'air terrifié. Mon père, un Bêta, les crocs apparents et les griffes frémissantes, s'est avancé en hurlant : « Tu n'es qu'une enfant gâtée en quête d'attention ! Arrête ton numéro, tu me fais honte ! » Ma mère, médecin légiste de la meute, a arraché mon rapport, y a jeté un coup d'œil et a ricané : « Tu as falsifié ça juste pour qu'on s'intéresse à toi ? Tu as toujours été une menteuse pathologique. » Elsa, accrochée à leurs manches, sanglotait : « C'est de ma faute… Je devrais pas insister pour organiser cette cérémonie de transformation… Je suis désolée, mais Jennifer, arrête de mentir pour manipuler la culpabilité de papa et maman ! » Je me suis calmement essuyé le sang qui coulait de mon nez, me suis redressée et ai répété à la conseillère : « Je n'ai plus de famille depuis longtemps. Effacez toutes mes traces du registre de la meute. Mes funérailles sont dans trois jours, et je veux pas les retarder. »

My younger brother had stage four kidney cancer. Our parents demanded that I donate a kidney to save him. I told them I only had one kidney left. The transplant would kill me. Instead of listening to me, they forcibly strapped me to the operating table. “It’s just one kidney! Stop being so selfish!” they yelled. They did not care that I was telling the truth. Years ago, I had given my other kidney to save my father after his car crash.

La veille de Noël, mes parents m'avaient encore laissée seule à la maison, sous prétexte qu'ils pouvaient tripler leur salaire ce jour-là. Mais après vingt ans à passer chaque réveillon seule, j'en avais assez de cette solitude glaciale. J'ai donc pris des plats que j'avais préparés et je suis allée les chercher. Je ne m'attendais pas à ça : ceux qui prétendaient vouloir gagner un peu plus d'argent sont sortis d'une voiture de luxe, en riant et en tenant par l'épaule un garçon à peu près de mon âge, avant d'entrer ensemble dans un hôtel cinq étoiles. « Papa, maman, vous trouvez ça normal de laisser Camille toute seule à la maison ? » a demandé le garçon. Ma mère a répondu d'un ton détaché : « Ce n'est pas grave, elle a l'habitude. » Mon père a renchéri sans la moindre gêne : « Elle ne peut pas t'arriver à la cheville. Toi, tu es notre vrai trésor ! » Je me suis retournée et je suis partie. Ils avaient feint d'être pauvres pour me tromper, mais cette fois, je n'avais plus besoin de leur présence non plus.

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?