The café was a haven of quiet and calm that afternoon, bathed in soft light streaming through its large windows. Shiori stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the room in search of an empty seat. Her eyes landed on a familiar figure seated in a cozy corner-a figure that made her pause for a moment.
Yuzuru.
He sat at a small table, his posture relaxed but focused, as if waiting for someone. A faint smile curved Shiori's lips, and she instinctively moved toward him.
But her steps faltered.
Emerging from the other side of the café was Akarin. She approached Yuzuru's table with an air of familiarity, settling into the seat opposite him with ease.
Shiori froze in her tracks, her faint smile fading as she observed the scene before her. Akarin leaned in slightly, her expression animated as she spoke to Yuzuru, who seemed equally engaged in the conversation.
From a distance, Shiori's chest tightened. An inexplicable wave of discomfort washed over her, followed quickly by irritation she couldn't quite rationalize. Her lips parted, and she murmured under her breath, almost too softly to hear.
"Akarin... Why is she here?"
Her gaze darkened, her eyes fixed on Akarin as if attempting to decipher the other woman's intentions. Since the beginning of her unconventional marriage, Shiori had harbored an unspoken aversion toward Akarin-an unease that surfaced every time Akarin appeared in proximity to Yuzuru.
Shiori clenched her hands by her sides, debating whether to approach them, but the growing knot in her chest made her decision for her. She turned on her heel and walked out of the café, her steps quick and deliberate, as if trying to outrun the inexplicable frustration bubbling within her.
Outside, she took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling in her mind. Jealousy? No. She refused to believe it was that. Why should she care if Yuzuru spent time with Akarin? It wasn't as though their marriage was built on love.
And yet, the sight of Akarin sitting across from Yuzuru lingered in her thoughts, a thorn that pricked her pride and refused to be ignored.
Back inside the café, Yuzuru remained oblivious to Shiori's fleeting presence. He leaned forward slightly, engrossed in whatever Akarin was saying, his expression one of polite interest. He had no idea that, for a brief moment, Shiori had been there-watching, debating, and ultimately walking away.
In the cozy corner of the room, Yuzuru and Akarin sat across from each other, their drinks resting untouched on the table. Their conversation had been light, but Yuzuru couldn't shake a lingering sense of confusion.
His eyes darted around the room briefly before landing back on Akarin.
"Akarin, where's Kenta? Isn't he usually glued to your side?" Yuzuru asked, a curious smile tugging at his lips.
Akarin shrugged with a playful grin. "I didn't tell him I was meeting you today. I wanted to have some time alone with you."
Yuzuru's brow furrowed slightly. "Alone? Why?"
Akarin leaned back in her chair, her smile softening, her eyes shimmering with a hint of nostalgia. "I wanted us to reminisce, Yuzuru. About the old days. The first time we met, all the moments we shared... It feels like just yesterday we were fighting over that last slice of chocolate cake at a café."
Yuzuru chuckled, the memory sparking a genuine smile. "Ah, that day... Who would've thought it would lead to our friendship?"
Akarin's gaze lingered on him, warm and unwavering. "Yes, and that friendship has always been so important to me, Yuzuru. I just wanted to revisit it, to have this time with you, without any interruptions... just for a little while."
Her words carried a sincerity that made Yuzuru pause. He returned her smile, his expression softening as he realized how much this moment meant to her. Yet, somewhere deep inside, a flicker of unease tugged at him-a quiet awareness that Shiori wouldn't be pleased if she knew about this meeting.
Still, he pushed the thought aside, focusing on Akarin's words and the fond memories she brought up.
They continued talking, laughter and smiles weaving through their conversation as they recounted stories from their shared past. Akarin spoke animatedly, her eyes lighting up as she described moments they had experienced together, while Yuzuru listened attentively, occasionally adding his own recollections.
As the conversation deepened, so did the familiarity between them, a rekindling of the bond they once shared. But beneath the surface, their interaction was layered with unspoken complexities-memories of the past brushing up against the present realities of Yuzuru's marriage to Shiori.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the easy warmth of their conversation was not as simple as it seemed. For Yuzuru, every laugh and smile with Akarin was tinged with a quiet uncertainty about the boundaries of friendship, loyalty, and the life he was now trying to build with someone else.
---
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the clock in the living room. It was late when Yuzuru returned from work, his body weighed down by exhaustion. He froze at the doorway to the living room, startled by the sight before him.
Shiori sat on the floor, her back against the couch, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. Her hair was disheveled, and she held her phone loosely in one hand. Her eyes were glazed, and her voice, though quiet, carried a strange weight as she spoke.
"...Yeah, it's all just pretend. Nothing more than a contract..." she muttered. "Why bother holding on when it's all just a farce?"
Yuzuru's heart leaped into his throat. Panicked, he rushed to her side, fearing the worst. But as he leaned closer, he noticed something peculiar-the phone in her hand wasn't even on. She wasn't speaking to anyone.
"Shiori, you're drunk," he said gently, crouching down to her level. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
As he reached out to steady her, she nearly collapsed forward, and he instinctively caught her, pulling her up before she fell.
But Shiori wasn't finished. In her drunken haze, her words became more incoherent yet painfully raw. "Yuzuru..." she slurred, her head lolling slightly as she looked at him with watery eyes. "Are we... supposed to be together? To... prove this marriage is real?"
The question struck Yuzuru like a thunderbolt. His arms stiffened around her as he tried to process what she was saying-or if she even meant it.
Before he could respond, Shiori's expression shifted. Her lips trembled, her face contorted with anger and pain. Tears spilled freely from her eyes as her voice rose, tinged with bitterness.
"Why... why did that doctor know?" she choked out. "That I'm still... untouched? Are you ashamed of me, Yuzuru? Or do you... just not want me at all?"
Her words were a dagger to his chest. Yuzuru's breath hitched, his throat dry. He hadn't expected her to bring this up, especially not like this.
"Shiori..." he began, his voice soft but heavy with regret. "It's not like that. I just... I thought giving you space was the right thing to do. I didn't want to pressure you. I wanted us to grow... at our own pace."
But Shiori wasn't having it. She shoved his hands away weakly, her tears falling faster. Her pain was raw, unfiltered, and it left Yuzuru utterly speechless.
"Don't lie to me," she murmured, her voice cracking. "I can't... I can't keep pretending this is okay."
Yuzuru could do nothing but watch as she broke down in front of him. Her vulnerability was like a mirror reflecting his own doubts and guilt. He wanted to say something, to fix what was unraveling between them, but no words seemed sufficient.
As Shiori's sobs quieted into exhausted murmurs, Yuzuru sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. The weight of their situation bore down on him like never before. This marriage-this contract-was becoming far more complicated than he'd anticipated.
And as he sat there, watching Shiori's fragile form, he realized with a sinking feeling that the wounds between them ran deeper than either of them had ever expected.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. It was well past midnight when Yuzuru gently carried Shiori, who was too drunk to walk on her own, to her bed. Her body felt frail in his arms, and her soft murmurs were laced with exhaustion.
He laid her down carefully, adjusting the blanket over her. Just as he turned to leave the room, a sudden tug on his hand stopped him in his tracks.
Shiori was awake-or at least half-awake. Her eyes, glassy and red-rimmed, stared at him with a peculiar intensity. Her grip on his hand was surprisingly firm.
"Yuzuru..." she whispered, her voice faint but resolute. "Why... why do I suddenly feel like I want a child? Why does the thought keep haunting me... like there's an emptiness I need to fill?"
Yuzuru froze, caught off guard by her words. He slowly turned back to face her, his brow furrowed with concern. She wasn't finished.
"And... earlier today," she continued, her voice trembling. "I saw you with Akarin. I didn't like it. I hated it, Yuzuru. I hated seeing you with her..."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Yuzuru felt a pang of guilt and confusion. He hadn't realized she'd noticed or that it would affect her like this.
Shiori's gaze softened, but her vulnerability was painfully evident. "Yuzuru..." she murmured, her voice breaking. "Will you... kiss me?"
The question stunned him. He stood motionless, staring at her tear-streaked face. The desperation in her eyes, the quiet plea-it was enough to shake him to his core.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a steady hand, he reached out to gently wipe the tears from her cheek. His voice was soft, calm, yet filled with sincerity.
"Shiori," he said, his tone tender, "I'll kiss you. But only when you're truly sober. I want it to happen when you're fully aware, when it's something you won't regret."
Her lips quivered, but she said nothing. Her eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, searched his for something-reassurance, perhaps, or maybe understanding.
Yuzuru didn't linger. He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking her in carefully. As she lay there, silent and pensive, he paused at the door, casting one last glance back at her.
His gaze softened, a mixture of longing, concern, and something deeper he couldn't quite define. Then, with a quiet sigh, he turned off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Alone in the dim hallway, Yuzuru leaned against the wall, his thoughts a storm of emotions. Their relationship was growing more complicated by the day, and for the first time, he realized just how deeply Shiori's presence-and her pain-had started to affect him.