Chapter 5 - THE ANKLET

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The front door shut behind my parents, the sound echoing through the house like a final decision. For a moment, no one moved. Then she turned, the black envelope still in her hand, and headed upstairs without a word.

She didn't look at me. Not even once.

I followed.

She walked at the same steady pace she always had at university, as if she didn't hear the footsteps behind her, as if she hadn't memorized their rhythm long ago. When she reached her room, she opened the door and stepped inside, already reaching for the desk as though I didn't exist.

I caught the door before it could close.

She stiffened—just barely—but didn't turn around.

Her room was quiet and untouched, still too clean, too new. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling over the wardrobe Mom had prepared and the neatly made bed. She placed the envelope down carefully, like it mattered more than she wanted to admit, and then moved past me toward the window.

Ignoring me.

That was when I stepped in fully and shut the door behind us.

She turned then, finally, only to stop short when she realized how close I was. I placed my hands on either side of her, palms against the wall, boxing her in—not touching her, not hurting her, but leaving her nowhere to look except straight ahead.

"At least look at me," I said calmly.

She didn't.

Her gaze stayed fixed somewhere over my shoulder, expression unreadable.

I leaned in just enough for her to notice, lowering my voice. "So… Akari," I said slowly, deliberately. "Or should I say Crystal now?"

That got her attention.

Her eyes flicked to mine for half a second before she looked away again. "That's my name."

I smiled faintly. "You don't sound used to it."

Silence answered me.

At university, she used to do this—say the bare minimum, give me nothing else. Everyone thought I was teasing her by accident, that I just happened to be everywhere she was. They never noticed how she always ended up cornered like this, how quiet she became when I stood too close.

I hadn't changed.

"You walked away downstairs," I continued, tone casual. "Did you think I'd let that slide?"

"You're blocking me," she said quietly.

"I know."

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. "Move."

I didn't.

Instead, I tilted my head, studying her face the way I used to during lectures when she pretended not to feel my stare. "You ignored me just now," I said. "And you ignored me for years before this. I figured I deserved at least a few seconds of honesty."

Her jaw tightened.

"You got what you wanted," she said. "You always do."

That wasn't the answer I expected.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The house was silent around us, too big, too empty, like it was holding its breath.

Then I smiled—soft, controlled, the same one everyone at university believed without question.

"Good," I said. "Then we understand each other."

She didn't answer.

But she didn't push past me either.

And that told me everything.

I didn't move away.

Instead, I lowered my voice, softer now, almost thoughtful.

"You know something," I said. "You should just slap me. Or kick me. Curse me. Every time I do something like this."

She looked at me.

Really looked at me.

"I'd love to see that," I continued, eyes darkening. "To see you react. Even if you hate me for it."

Silence followed.

The kind that stretched until it started to hurt.

I stepped back then—not giving her freedom, just changing the shape of the space. I gestured toward the bed with my chin.

"Sit."

It wasn't loud.

It wasn't forceful.

She hesitated only a second before sitting on the edge of the bed, posture straight, hands resting calmly in her lap.

That calm… it always did things to me.

I knelt—not in submission, not in worship, but because it placed me exactly where I wanted to be: lower, looking up, watching her face.

From my pocket, I took out something small.

A thin silver anklet, minimal and sharp, no charms, no softness—just a single clean line of metal.

"This is for you," I said… "And NEVER EVER take it off."

I took her soft feet in my hand and put the anklet on it. Now that's what I say Mine.

She looked at her ankle for a long moment…

That single choice sent a jolt through me.

Her lips curved — not into a smile, not warmth — but something colder.

Then she lifted her foot and rested it lightly against my chest.

Teasingly….

I froze.

Surprise flashed through my eyes — followed immediately by something darker, almost delighted.

For a second — just one — it felt like something was about to tip too far.

And then she stood.

The smirk vanished. Her face returned to that familiar calm — distant, unreadable, untouchable.

"Get out," she said.

I rose instantly, stepping back, a low laugh slipping from my mouth— quiet, thrilled, unbalanced.

"As you wish, my lady" he said, eyes bright with amusement.

I left without another word.

The door closed softly behind me.

And even as I walked away, amusement curling deep in my chest, I knew—

This wasn't over.

Not even close.