A Leisurely Sunday
It was a leisurely Sunday.
Rachel dropped gracefully to one knee, opened the ring box, and proposed to Greg.
Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, and of course Greg shouted yes, yes, yes, tears streaming freely down his face.
Even when people in the audience tossed out joking jabs about how thoroughly he was shredding his male pride, once Greg’s tear ducts opened they refused to dry up.
Rachel led him down from the stage with dignified composure, and I hurried after them.
Dimitri laughed his big, booming laugh and ushered us into a private room on the first floor, treating us all to dinner.
The evening began cheerfully with canapés topped with olive and salmon, and sherry paired with an assortment of nuts and jams as appetizers.
“Man, Greg, how did a guy like you land a beauty like her? Wait—shouldn’t I be saying Rachel landed a handsome guy like him?”
“Either way, congratulations to both of you! In seventeen years at the company, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a couple form like this—I mean it!”
Cassandra, who had somehow ended up joining us, raised her glass of pre-dinner sherry toward the two of them. Dimitri had thoughtfully prepared apple cider for Rachel.
“Cheers! To both of your happy futures!”
The atmosphere of that dinner—shared by a newly engaged couple and their good friends—stayed warm and lively from start to finish.
“I was… going to propose again myself…”
Greg started speaking with eyes still shining from emotion, then sucked in a breath.
“Stop crying.”
“I’m not crying. I’m a married man now.”
“Right. Not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“Oh come on, Jun. Men are allowed to cry!”
Cassandra laughed as she accepted her third glass from Dimitri. He chimed right in.
“Exactly, exactly. If you take away Greg’s pure emotional expression, what’s even left of him?”
Greg blinked both eyes, and Rachel let out a soft snort of laughter.
“You know, looking at them now, they really do suit each other.”
When I first heard they were dating, I’d honestly been a little worried.
“It’s like a queen rescuing her servant from the Demon King’s castle. They look perfect together.”
“Hey!”
“Main course is ready.”
A golden-haired waitress in a gold blouse and black skirt, her hair elegantly pinned up, entered with a gentle smile.
Handmade burgers with thick-cut fries, sour cream, sausages, ham, and other mouth-watering dishes arrived alongside craft beer.
“Wow, this looks amazing. Next time I should bring Charlie.”
“Hm? Kids can come to a pub?”
Dimitri answered that one.
“Before nine at night, as long as they’re with a parent or guardian, kids are welcome to come eat. Most pubs on this street have family menus.”
“Ah…”
Then maybe I should bring Luca someday too. Cassandra could come with Charlie and watch a performance while looking after him, couldn’t she?
Luca never cried even in crowded places; he could just sit in his stroller and watch. There were short breaks midway through the sets, so I could check on him then…
I was about to ask Dimitri and Cassandra about it when Greg grabbed my shoulder.
“Dude, that’s not the important thing right now.”
Why wasn’t that the important thing?
“Dimitri, you saw that just now, right?”
“Saw what?”
“That waitress just now—the way she was looking at Jun was something else.”
What on earth…
“Oh, for real? Michelle’s the most popular girl at our pub!”
“Ah, I’m not interested in that sort of thing. About the next performance, though—”
“Ah, so your tastes lean the other way.”
No, they don’t.
Even though I tried to leave as early as I could, the hour had grown quite late.
“Well then, I’ll be heading out first.”
“Already? The night hasn’t even started yet.”
Dimitri tried to keep me with a regretful look, but Cassandra stood up with me.
“Parents with kids—can’t be helped. I should get going too. Jun, want a ride on the way?”
“Oh, that’d be great, thanks. Dimitri, see you next week. And Greg, Rachel—congratulations again.”
It had been a wonderful evening, but the thought of Luca waiting for me at someone else’s house made me pick up my pace.
Cassandra dropped me off at the intersection near home, and from there I sprinted the rest of the way.
Breathing hard, I arrived at Rose and Lily’s place.
Knock knock knock.
I knocked instead of ringing the doorbell, not wanting to startle anyone at this hour.
“Come in… Oh my, look at all that sweat. Don’t tell me you ran?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry for being late.”
“Nonsense. The sun’s only just gone down.”
Rose and Lily, gathered in the living room with the adorable children, all looked over at me.
“Eung…!”
Luca, who had apparently been busy army-crawling around inside the playpen, flailed his short arms and legs the moment he saw me.
“Luca. Did you have fun?”
Feeling guilty, I scooped him up at once.
“Kyaa…!”
Whether I felt guilty or not, Luca simply beamed with happiness, the same as always.
But then…
“Uh, uh…”
Inside the laughing baby’s mouth, a tiny white baby tooth had poked right through.
A few weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning.
As the days gradually grew warmer, I browsed the summer-goods sales and bought a baby pool for Luca.
I also picked up a rattan daybed for the terrace—something we could lie on and rest together.
Today felt like the perfect day to put both of them to use for the first time.
I went out to the terrace, filled the pool, and carefully lowered a life-jacketed Luca in feet-first.
“Kyaaaak!”
Splash, splash!
“Aww, our Luca, you like it that much?”
After about twenty minutes of play, I dried him thoroughly and climbed with him onto the round rattan bed I’d set up in the terrace shade.
“Eung…!”
“Yeah, nice, right?”
In the gentle early-summer breeze, Luca fell soundly asleep in no time.
These days his naps seemed to last a solid hour or two.
Beside the deeply sleeping baby I played one of the videos featuring him.
“…Pfft.”
No matter how many times I watched it, it was still ridiculously cute and funny.
The video showcasing Luca’s chubby cheeks and little bottom had led to a spectacular jump in views.
I finally understood exactly what Cassandra had meant when she called him a “star.”
Simply by existing, Luca crushed the view counts of every other video on the channel.
Videos of pottery or cakes I’d poured my heart into were casually steamrolled by his numbers.
The reactions were always the same. Waves of praise—cute, adorable, precious—came flooding in.
Especially popular were the moments when I sat on the floor making something while Luca, perched in his baby chair beside me, watched me with little hands fidgeting or feet kicking up and down.
A compilation of only the highlight clips from those various videos, edited to a cute background beat, exploded in popularity.
Thanks to that, the channel’s subscriber count soared.
And the videos I’d made using my Golden Hand saw a corresponding rise in views as well—people who watched Luca’s videos until their cute-meter was full would then poke around the rest of the channel.
The pottery, baking, and household-item videos never exploded quite like Luca’s, but their views climbed steadily all the same.
Orders for Cassandra’s mother’s pottery began coming in too. Even with the fairly high prices she’d set, Cassandra was delighted to report they were getting roughly one order every two days.
“…Hmm.”
Today, as always, I spotted the comments that had been rolling in for a while now.
For baking, for example, people requested seasonal desserts that would probably be popular.
None of it was hard, so I did my best to match the audience’s requests and uploaded the results. The problem was Cassandra’s suggestion that we turn this into actual content.
Not just baking—she thought it would be good if I made practical everyday items as well.
The baby-bonnet knitting video from before had drawn a fair number of comments, so she recommended focusing on things that required less production cost and time.
But without perfect blueprints it was tough…
Unlike baking or woodworking, where I could get a decent feel for things, fashion inspired me not even one tiny bit, which made it even harder.
Even the baby bonnet had been a classic design I’d pulled off the internet. To my eye, classic clothes somehow looked prettier than the latest trends, so I’d ended up making things mostly in that style.
Sometimes looking at Luca felt like a 1920s baby had looped through a time warp… but babies were cute no matter the century, so it was fine.
As I pondered what classic yet marketable item I could make, it struck me that this was finally the time to try leathercraft.
I’d been thinking about it for a while, but the basic materials and tools for leatherwork were more expensive than expected, so I’d never taken the plunge.
I wasn’t opening a full leather workshop, so professional equipment was out. If I stuck to products manageable with a handmade leathercraft set, there should still be basic demand, right?
And since the field overflowed with classic designs, copyright wouldn’t be an issue either.
“Eung…”
“Yeah, our Luca, you dreaming?”
I patted the baby’s body a few times until he drifted back into soft, even breathing, snapped a photo of him, then checked the reactions to the performance videos I’d recently started uploading.
Overall the response was that they felt fresh. There were also comments asking why I never showed my face.
Still, because I’d filmed mostly from the side from the start, with half my face hidden by a hat, I hadn’t needed any mosaic effects, so it wasn’t particularly distracting.
Of course, when I did guitar solos I always looked down while playing, so comments telling me to lift my head popped up now and then—but most of the feedback was praise for the guitar work itself.
Greg had posted the proposal video on a channel of his own that he’d opened separately.
And there, instead of the performances he did with me at Lemon Soup, he uploaded footage of himself busking alone or taking stages at other live bars.
Among them were quite a few unpaid gigs, just as he’d mentioned, but since they provided both a stage and a filming location, it didn’t seem like a bad deal.
Once Greg’s channel appeared, a fair number of viewers started hopping back and forth between his and mine. It would probably help both channels grow.
Anyway, guitar performances had now become one of my channel’s main contents alongside pottery and baking.
I set the phone aside. Turning my head, I lay back and looked up at the high blue sky.
“……”
Bit by bit, life felt like it was finding its balance.
My beautiful child was growing by leaps and bounds and could now eat baby food; work at the company was going smoothly; YouTube showed steady growth.
Ah, and the side hustle of dessert deliveries was proceeding without a hitch as well.
When I’d first moved into this house, the big question had been whether I could even afford rent that matched my salary. Thankfully, that period seemed to be behind me now.
Once everything settled into place and routines took hold, Sundays could be filled entirely with baby time—and that was another joy.
After his nap, Luca played with me with full energy again, ate some sweet fruit purée, and played some more.
And then evening arrived as the sun went down.
“All right, Luca. Ready for bed?”
“Naa…”
It sounded like he said no, but I laid him down anyway. I set the camera so it would catch his profile nicely, then sat across from him with my guitar.
“From now until you fall asleep, Daddy’s going to play the guitar.”
“Eh…”
Looking at me, Luca smiled and opened and closed his tiny fists. Adorable.
I tucked a teddy bear into the arms of Luca, who lay on his side, and began playing a low, slow melody.
“Eh…”
I answered the baby’s babble with a soft, low hum.
Sleep well, my little one. Sleep well.