Chapter 1657 - App 47

I could already feel the storm brewing in her mind, the way she'd twist this into some dramatic, self-righteous narrative—Jack's corrupting us, he's playing us, he's—fucking please. Like she wasn't the one who'd spread her legs for me first, who'd moaned my name like a prayer when

I had her bent over her desk, her panties torn and discarded on the floor. Like Haruna wasn't the one who'd watched me with those hungry, jealous eyes, her body trembling every time I so much as looked at her.

Julie's laugh was dark, her fingers wrapping around my cock as she sank back onto it, her ass swallowing me inch by inch with a filthy, wet sound. "Let her," she purred, her voice dripping with sin, her hips rolling as she took me deeper.

"The more she fights it... the harder she'll come when she finally breaks." Her cum-drenched thighs pressed against mine, her body trembling with the dirty thrill of it all.

I didn't just want to remind them who was in charge.

I wanted to ruin them.

I wanted them to ache for me, to beg for me, to hate how much their bodies betrayed them the second I so much as looked their way. I wanted them to lie awake at night, their fingers buried between their thighs, their minds replaying every filthy word, every touch, every moment they'd let themselves need me.

Time to make them remember.

My hand came down hard on Julie's ass, the sharp crack echoing through the car. "Greedy. Little. Cat," I growled, my fingers sinking into her flesh as she jerked forward with a high, broken whimper.

"Who's going to drive the fucking car if you keep taking my cock in that used-up ass of yours?" I gripped her hip, my cock still buried deep inside her, and pulled out with a slow, deliberate drag, watching as her hole clung to me, gaping and dripping, her thighs trembling.

"Aaaah—! N-no, don't—ah!—don't pull out!"* Julie's voice was a desperate whine, her body arching back, trying to chase the emptiness I'd left behind.

"I can still take it, I can drive like this—please—" Her fingers clawed at the seat, her ass twitching, her hole fluttering like it was begging to be filled again.

I slapped her ass again, harder this time, the sound sharp and obscene. "You think I'm joking?" My voice was a dark chuckle as she yelped, her body jolting forward. "You're dripping all over the seat, you filthy slut. Now move before I decide to leave you like this—empty, aching, and covered in my cum."

Julie let out a broken, needy sound, her body trembling as she finally collapsed into the driver's seat. The car was thick with the scent of sex—sweat, cum, the musky aroma of her arousal.

She cracked the windows, the cool night air rushing in, but it did nothing to clear the filth hanging between us. "Fuck..." she panted, her fingers pressing between her thighs, her ass still throbbing from the slaps. "You bastard... I hate how much I need this..."

I tucked my cock back into my pants, the fabric straining against my still-hard length, my mind already racing ahead. "Good," I murmured, my voice a dark purr. "Because you're going to beg for it again before the night's over."

Julie's laugh was breathless, her fingers still teasing her clit as she adjusted herself in the seat, her thighs glistening with my cum. "I'll milk you dry," she promised, her voice dripping with sin.

"So my daughter won't get a single drop of it." Her lips curled into a smirk. "She's trying to compete with me. Like she even stands a chance."

She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with something feral. "Now tell me, what's your plan with Haruna and Yuko?"

As Julie drove, the city lights blurring past us, I leaned in, my voice a dark murmur. "Haruna's jealousy is going to be her downfall," I started, my fingers tracing idle patterns on Julie's thigh, my thumb pressing just hard enough to make her breath hitch.

"She thinks she's in control, but she's already mine—she just doesn't want to admit it yet," I smirked, watching as Julie's fingers twitched on the steering wheel. "I'm going to push her until she breaks, until she's on her knees, begging me to fuck that pretty, jealous mind right out of her."

Julie's breath hitched, her free hand sliding up my thigh, her fingers teasing the bulge in my pants. "And Yuko?" she asked, her voice thick with lust.

A slow, dark smile curled my lips. "Yuko's different," I murmured. "She's innocent—or at least, she thinks she is." My chuckle was low, dangerous.

"She's the kind of girl who blushes when you call her pretty, but she melts when you call her a slut. I'm going to corrupt her so thoroughly she won't even remember the girl she used to be." My hand covered Julie's, pressing her fingers harder against my cock.

"By the time I'm done with her, she'll be spreading her legs for me, her panties stuffed in my pocket like a good little toy."

Julie's laugh was filthy, her body arching slightly in the seat, her ass still stinging from my slaps. "Fuck, I love the way you think," she purred, her voice dripping with lust.

Julie's breath hitched, her body arching into my touch like a cat in heat, her cunt already dripping at the thought of what was coming. "When do we start?" she whispered, her voice raw with need, her fingers trembling against my cock.

I smirked, my grip on her hand tightening, my thumb pressing harder against her clit until she let out a broken whimper. "Oh, Julie..." I murmured, my voice a dark, velvety promise. "We already have." My lips brushed the shell of her ear, my breath hot against her skin. "Now drive... before I decide to pull over and fuck that pretty, used-up ass of yours again."

Julie's thighs clenched, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps, but she didn't argue. She adjusted herself in the seat, her ass still throbbing from my slaps, and started the car.

The engine roared to life, and she peeled out of the parking spot, her fingers gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

I watched as she shifted in her seat, the movement making another thick drop of cum slip from between her thighs, dripping onto the leather beneath her. She didn't bother wiping it away. She wanted it there. Wanted the reminder of what I'd done to her. What I owned.

The drive to Yuko's apartment was short, but every second was thick with tension. Julie's knuckles were white on the wheel, her breath uneven, her body still humming from the way I'd wrecked her.

When we pulled up, she didn't hesitate. She stepped out of the car, her legs slightly unsteady, and I caught the glint of cum still dripping down her thighs in the dim streetlight. She didn't bother to hide it. Didn't bother to wipe it away. She wanted Hannah to see. Wanted her to know.

Julie already knew the plan.

And everything was ready.

I leaned against the car, my phone pressed to my ear. Yuko's voice was sharp when she answered, but she didn't argue—just a curt "I'll be down" before the line went dead. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and waited, my gaze fixed on the apartment building's entrance.

Twenty minutes later, the door of the building swung open, and Yuko stepped out.

She had changed.

Gone was whatever she'd been wearing before—replaced now by a fitted black top that clung just enough to hint at the curves beneath, the fabric thin but not revealing. Her jeans were dark, slightly distressed at the knees, hugging her legs in a way that made it clear she wasn't trying to hide—just to armor herself.

The black leather jacket she'd thrown on was the final touch, zipped up to her collarbone, the sleeves slightly too long, covering her wrists like she was bracing for a fight. Even her boots were practical—sturdy, black, laced up tight. Every inch of her was covered, shielded, like she was daring me to try and get past her defenses.

Perfect.

Yuko walked toward me, her steps measured, her posture rigid. There was a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in her jaw that told me everything I needed to know—she was afraid.

She stopped a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a glare. "What are you looking at?" Her voice was sharp, arrogant, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—something that almost looked like nervousness.

I didn't look away. I let my gaze travel over her slowly, deliberately, taking in every detail—the way the jacket hugged her shoulders, the way her fingers curled slightly against her arms, like she was fighting the urge to fidget. "Yuko," I said, my voice low, sincere, "you look really beautiful."

Her cheeks flushed—just for a second—before her expression hardened. "Don't talk nonsense," she snapped, but her voice lacked its usual bite. She shifted her weight, her boots scuffing against the pavement.

I stepped closer, just enough to invade her space without touching her. "I'm not," I murmured. "You're as beautiful as Haruna."

Her eyes narrowed, but the blush deepened, spreading down her neck. "Of course, Haruna is beautiful," she muttered, her voice tighter now. "She got it from me and our mother."

"Then it runs in the family," I said, my voice smooth, watching the way her breath hitched just slightly. "You have her eyes. Same shape. Same fire."

Yuko's fingers twitched at her sides, like she was resisting the urge to shove me away. "Flattery won't work on me," she said, but her voice was less steady now.

I smirked. "Who said I was trying to flatter you?"

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders tensing. "Let's just go," she bit out, turning away from me. "And get this over with. Aunt Julie is alone with Hannah and Haruna now, so we can start now."

I fell into step beside her, matching her pace. "Lead the way."

We started walking toward the café, the distance between us deliberate—Yuko kept to the far edge of the sidewalk, her body angled away from mine like even the brush of my sleeve against hers would burn.

I let the silence stretch for a moment, watching the way her fingers flexed against her jacket, the way her gaze darted sideways every few seconds, checking if I was still there.

Then I leaned in, just slightly, my shoulder brushing hers.

Yuko stiffened instantly, whirling toward me, her eyes flashing. "What—?" Her voice was a warning, low and dangerous. "I'm telling you, if you ever touch me again—"

I stopped, turning to face her fully, cutting her off. "I'm going to call Hannah to bring Haruna down," I said, my voice calm but firm.

"We need to look like we're actually together, Yuko. Or this won't work." I held her gaze, unflinching. "And don't worry..." I lowered my voice, just for her. "I won't take advantage of you."

She glared at me, her chest rising and falling a little faster now. "I don't trust you," she said, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"You don't have to," I replied, my voice even. "But you do have to play the part."

She held my gaze for a long moment, her jaw clenched, before finally exhaling through her nose. "Fine," she muttered, but she didn't step away. "But if you try anything—"

"You'll what?" I asked, my lips curling into a smirk. "Kick my ass?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't test me."

I chuckled, low and dark. "I wouldn't dream of it."

She huffed, turning back toward the café, but this time, she didn't pull away when I fell into step beside her. The distance between us was smaller now—just enough to look natural, just enough to make her aware of every shift of my body, every brush of my arm against hers.

"It's better that you know," she muttered, her voice quieter now, almost to herself.

I glanced at her, my expression unreadable. "Oh, I know."

And I did.

I knew exactly how this would play out.

By the end of the night, she'd know it too.

The sunset painted the street in molten gold and deep crimson, casting long, dramatic shadows as we stood outside the café. The air was thick with the scent of distant rain and the faint hum of the city, but all I could focus on was Yuko—her rigid posture, the way her fingers dug into the leather of her jacket sleeves, the tension radiating off her like heat.

I pulled out my phone and sent Hannah a text—"Come down. Now."—and almost immediately, the reply lit up the screen: "Ok." Short. Sharp. No nonsense.

Yuko shifted beside me, her boots scuffing against the pavement. "We're here," she said, her voice clipped, her arms still locked across her chest like a barricade. "So, should we go in?"

I didn't look at her right away. Instead, I let my gaze linger on the café's entrance, the warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk. "We should wait," I said, my voice smooth, deliberate. "Till Hannah brings Haruna here. So she can see us together. Make it believable."

Yuko's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She just nodded, a sharp, jerky motion, and fell silent. The space between us was charged, electric. I could see the way her breath hitched when my shoulder brushed against hers, the way her fingers twitched like she was fighting the urge to shove me away.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then, casually, I broke it.

"Yuko..." I tilted my head slightly, studying her. "Are you a lesbian?"

Her entire body went rigid. "What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, whirling toward me, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. "When did I become a lesbian? Where did you even get that stupid idea?"

I kept my tone light, almost amused. "I don't know. You hate me touching you. I just figured—"

"You figured wrong," she cut in, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. "I'm not a lesbian."

"Then what is it?" I pressed, undeterred. "Androphobia? Fear of men?"

I probed her mind with Telepathy, catching the storm behind Yuko's eyes before her expression twisted—lips curling in raw disgust. "Hmph," she scoffed, her voice dripping with venom. [I've killed hundreds of men. You think I'm afraid of them?] Her eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding. "I just find the idea of them touching me repulsive."

I held her gaze, my voice softening just enough to make it clear I wasn't mocking her. "So it's not fear. It's disgusting."

"Yes," she bit out, her fingers clenching into fists. "Happy now? You've got your answer."

I exhaled slowly, my expression shifting to something more serious. "I'm sorry, Yuko," I said, my voice low, sincere. "I don't know what you've been through... but if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

Yuko's entire body tensed, her breath coming faster, her chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven movements. "What the fuck are you talking about, bastard?" she hissed, her voice trembling with something that wasn't just anger. "Why the hell would I need your help? Why would I ever trust you?"

But her thoughts were a whirlwind of contradiction, her mind racing with memories she'd buried deep. [This bastard... does he know? Does he understand anything?] Her chest tightened as she looked at me, really looked at me.

There was something in my eyes—something that made her stomach twist. [Why do I see... pity? And care? Like my mother...] The comparison struck her like a blade, sharp and unexpected. [She looked at me the same way when I told her the truth... This bastard... I hate him. I hate him...]

But beneath the fury, beneath the defiance, there was something else—something raw and fragile, something she refused to name. And I saw it.

I saw her. Not the armor, not the anger, but the girl beneath it all, the one who had spent so long fighting alone that she didn't know what to do when someone offered her a hand instead of a weapon.

I didn't push. I didn't smile. I just stood there, close enough that she could feel the warmth of my presence, close enough that she could choose—if she ever wanted to—to lean in.

And for the first time, Yuko didn't pull away.

The silence between us wasn't the kind that fidgeted or filled with nervous laughter. It was alive—a living, breathing thing, pressed down like the oppressive stillness before a storm snaps. The air smelled of damp earth and distant rain, the kind of quiet that didn't just exist but waited, humming with the electric charge of something about to uncoil.

I exhaled slowly, watching the last sliver of sun sink its teeth into the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and the bitter orange of a dying day. That's when I saw them—Hannah and Haruna, materializing from the shadows cast by the skeletal trees behind us.

The fading light clung to them like a second skin, outlining Hannah's rigid posture, her face smoothed into something unreadable, a statue carved from ice. But Haruna—Haruna's eyes found us immediately, wide and sharp, her steps faltering just long enough to betray her. A single, telling hesitation.

Yuko's body went rigid beside me, every muscle locking into place like a drawn bowstring. She didn't turn. Didn't so much as twitch.

But I felt the shift in her, the way her breath slowed to something deliberate, her voice dropping to a whisper so low it might've been the wind hissing through the leaves. "They're here."

I let the words settle between us, let the weight of them pull at the corners of my mouth. A smirk, slow and deliberate, curled my lips. "Good," I murmured, my voice a dark thread woven into the quiet. "Let's make sure they remember this."

We didn't look back. Didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Just turned in unison, shoulders squared, and stepped into the café—its warm, golden light spilling over us like a stage curtain rising.

Yuko led the way, her stride sharp and controlled, but I followed just close enough that my presence felt like a shadow she couldn't shake.

My hand hovered near the curve of her ass, fingers spread wide as if I were gripping her, my touch just a breath away from being real. From Haruna's perspective, it would look like I'd claimed her—like Yuko was mine.

Yuko's body tensed, her muscles locking up as she hissed through her teeth, "You're dead, you know that, right?"

I leaned in, my lips brushing the edge of her ear, my voice a low, taunting murmur. "Maybe. But first, let's give them something to remember."

"I swear to god, if you don't move your fucking hand—"

"Or what?" I interrupted, my smirk deepening as I pulled back just enough to meet her glare. "You'll what, Yuko? Cause a scene? Ruin the illusion?"

Her breath came sharp and fast, her voice a venomous whisper. "I'll ruin you."

We slid into the window-side booth, our bodies aligned just right—close enough to sell the lie, far enough to keep it from being real. Yuko's thigh pressed against mine, and for a second, I thought she might actually kick me under the table. But she didn't. Because Haruna was still out there, her eyes glued to us, her expression a mix of shock and something darker.

The waiter arrived, and we placed our orders; the tension between us was thick enough to cut. Yuko took a bite of her burger, her jaw tight, her movements controlled.

But then—there it was. A smear of sauce glistened on her lower lip, thick and tempting. I didn't hesitate. My thumb found the napkin, and I reached out, brushing it against her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion.

Yuko's eyes snapped to mine, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "Don't you dare."

"Too late," I murmured, pulling the napkin back with a smirk. "Now you're perfect."

Her fingers twitched, like she was imagining wrapping them around my throat. "I'm going to make you regret this."

My gaze dropped to her lips. Lingered. Yuko's chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, her fingers digging into the edge of the table.

I could see the storm in her eyes, the way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat. She wanted to destroy me. But she stayed still. Because Haruna was watching. Always watching.

Then I shifted. Slow. Deliberate. I leaned in, my body angling toward hers, my lips hovering just beside her mouth. Close enough that the heat of her breath ghosted over my skin.

Close enough that, from the outside, it would look like a kiss—like I was claiming her in front of everyone. My hand found her jaw, my thumb brushing the edge of her lip in a featherlight touch, as if I were savoring the moment.

The air between us was thick with tension, every breath Yuko took sharp enough to cut glass. Her entire body had locked up, her voice a venomous whisper, trembling with barely contained fury. "If you kiss me, I'll break your fucking nose—and that's just the start, you piece of shit. I'll make sure you regret ever laying a finger on me."

I chuckled, my lips barely grazing the shell of her ear, my voice a low, taunting murmur. "Relax, Yuko. It's just an illusion. Haruna doesn't need to know the truth." My tone dropped even lower, laced with amusement. "But if you really want me to kiss you... all you have to do is ask. I'd be more than happy to make it real."

Her ear burned a furious crimson, her hands clenching into fists so tight her knuckles turned white. "Go to hell," she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "I'd rather die than ask you for anything, you manipulative bastard."

I grinned, my eyes flicking toward the window just long enough to catch Haruna's reaction. Her face was a mix of shock and something darker—something that looked like pure, unfiltered betrayal. Perfect.

"Oh, I'm already there," I murmured, leaning back in my seat, my fingers finally retreating from Yuko's skin. "But you're coming with me, whether you like it or not."

Yuko's voice was a low, lethal promise, her eyes blazing with fury. "I'm going to end you. I'm going to make you suffer for every second of this."

I pulled back, thinking that was enough—and sure enough, I caught a glimpse of Hannah and Haruna's retreating figures as they ran away, their backs disappearing into the shadows.

Yuko noticed it too, her worry cutting through her anger like a blade. "Are we done yet? Should we go after her? Should we confront Haruna and fix this?"

I shook my head, my voice calm. "Not yet. We go back, but we wait. Let her stew in it. Let her think about what she saw."

Yuko's jaw tightened, but she nodded, her usual confidence faltering. She looked almost... vulnerable. A killer, nervous for her sister. It was strange—seeing her like this. Fragile. Almost cute.

We paid the bill and stepped out into the cool night air, the weight of what we'd done pressing down on us. Yuko's phone rang suddenly, the sharp sound cutting through the silence like a knife. She glanced at the screen, her entire body tensing. "It's Haruna."

"Answer it. Put it on speaker."

Yuko hesitated for only a second before swiping the screen. Haruna's voice came through, raw and trembling with fury. "Sister... where the hell have you been? You think I didn't see you? You think I'm stupid?"

Yuko's breath hitched, her voice unsteady. "Haruna, it's not—"

"Not what?!" Haruna's voice cracked, her words dripping with venom. "Not what I saw? You were all over him, Sister! Kissing him in public like some—some whore! How could you?! Hannah's right there, and you're flirting with her man?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Yuko flinched like she'd been slapped, her fingers tightening around the phone. "Haruna, you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly!" Haruna's voice rose to a scream, her sobs breaking through. "You're a liar! A traitor! I always looked up to you, and this is how you repay me?! By making a fool of yourself—of us?! I don't have a sister like you! I hate you!"

The call cut off abruptly, leaving Yuko standing there, stunned. Her phone slipped from her fingers, crashing to the pavement, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in silent, devastating streams. She didn't make a sound. Just stood there, trembling, her gaze locked onto me with a mix of betrayal and pure, unfiltered rage.

Then she exploded.

Her fists flew at my chest, each hit fueled by years of pent-up fury. "WHY?!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "It's all your fault! I shouldn't have listened to you! You ruined everything! Now Haruna won't talk to me! She hates me!"

I didn't fight back. Didn't even flinch. Instead, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight as she thrashed against me, her fists pounding into my chest. "You monster! You destroyed my relationship with my sister! Are you happy?! Tell me, are you happy now?!"

I let her hit me. Let her scream. Let her cry.

"I should kill you!" she sobbed, her voice muffled against my shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric. "I should!"

I held her tighter, my voice steady, unshaken. "Yuko... I'll fix it. I promise you, I'll fix this."

She kept struggling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "How?! How the hell can you fix this?! You bastard! You destroyed everything!"

I didn't let go. Not even when her hits weakened, not even when her sobs turned into shuddering breaths. Not even when she finally realized she was still in my arms, her body pressed against mine, her face buried in my chest.

She stiffened, her voice suddenly cold. "How long are you going to take advantage of me? Get your hands off me!"

I released her slowly, watching as she shoved me back, her face flushed—anger, embarrassment, or maybe both. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her eyes still burning with fury.

"I swear, if you ever pull a stunt like this again..." she snarled, her voice trembling with leftover emotion.

I didn't smile. Didn't joke.

Because some wounds ran deeper than words. And some promises weren't just made—they were owed.

Yuko wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her voice shaking but determined. "Let's go. Now. We need to explain everything to Haruna before this gets any worse." Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

"If we don't fix this right now, she'll never listen to me again. She'll—" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay composed.

Then, without warning, her hand shot out and grabbed mine, pulling me forward with a desperation that surprised us both. The second her skin touched mine, her entire body stiffened. Her eyes widened in horror, as if she'd just realized what she'd done.

"What the hell are you looking at?!" she snapped, jerking her hand back like she'd been electrocuted. Her face flushed, her thoughts a chaotic storm: [Why the fuck did I just grab his hand? Why don't I feel disgust? Why does it feel like I wanted to? What is wrong with me?!]

She turned away sharply, her strides quick and uneven, as if she could outrun the confusion in her own mind. "Does Aunt Julie know?" she demanded, her voice tight with dread. "Does she know Hannah's your fake girlfriend? Because if she does, we're screwed."

I shook my head. "No. She doesn't know the truth."

Yuko's breath hitched, her voice rising in panic. "Oh, fantastic. Just perfect. She's going to kill me when she finds out. She's going to think I betrayed Hannah, that I—" She cut herself off, her fingers digging into her palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. "We have to fix this. Now."

I stepped closer, my voice low and steady. "We will. I've got this."

Yuko didn't respond. She just stormed toward the elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly, as if she could force the doors to open faster. The ride up was agonizing, the silence between us thick with unspoken dread. When the doors finally slid open, she practically sprinted to her apartment, her fingers flying over the electronic keypad to unlock the door.

The second we stepped inside, the scene inside hit us like a wrecking ball.

Julie was holding Hannah tightly, her arms wrapped around her like a shield. Haruna stood nearby, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

The moment Julie saw us, her expression twisted into something between fury and heartbreak, and her acting started. "Hannah," she said, her voice trembling with controlled rage, "let's get out of here. Now."

Hannah didn't speak. She just let herself be guided toward the door, her eyes empty, her silence deafening.

Julie's gaze locked onto me, her voice dripping with venom. "Jack." My name sounded like a curse on her lips. "I didn't expect you to be this kind of person." Her eyes burned with disgust. "Stay away from me. Stay away from Hannah. From now on, you are nothing to us."

Yuko's breath hitched, her voice breaking as she stepped forward. "Aunt Julie, please—just listen—"

"Listen to what?!" Julie's voice cracked like a whip, her fury cutting Yuko off mid-sentence. "More lies?! More excuses?!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I trusted you! I thought you were better than this!"

Yuko flinched like she'd been struck, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Aunt Julie, it's not what you think—"

"Oh, spare me!" Julie's voice rose, her words sharp enough to draw blood.

Yuko's entire body trembled, her voice barely a whisper. "Aunt Julie, please—just let me explain—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Julie's voice was a roar now, her fury filling the room. "I don't care what you have to say! You've hurt Hannah! And for what?! For him?!" She spat the last word like it was poison.

Yuko's knees nearly buckled. "No—it's not—"

"Enough!" Julie's voice was final, her expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. She turned to Hannah, her grip tightening. "We're leaving. Now."

Hannah still didn't speak. She just let herself be pulled toward the door, her eyes hollow, her face pale.

Julie's final words were thrown at me like a blade. "You are not welcome in our house, Jack. If I find out you've tried to contact us—if I even hear your name near my family—I'll call the cops. And I will make sure you regret it."

The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot.

Silence.

Yuko stood frozen, her body trembling violently, tears streaming down her face in silent, devastating waves. The weight of Julie's words had crushed her, stealing the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping like she was drowning.

"No..." Yuko's voice was a shattered whisper, her body trembling as if the world itself had just crumbled beneath her feet. "No, no, no—" The word dissolved into a sob, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides, as though she could somehow fight the reality pressing down on her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her tears spilling over, her entire being consumed by the weight of Julie's words, the finality of that slammed door.

I exhaled slowly, my mind racing—not just with the fallout, but with something else. Something unexpected.

Julie's performance had been flawless. The fury in her voice, the way her hands had trembled with genuine rage, the way she'd pulled Hannah away like she was shielding her from a monster—it hadn't felt like an act.

Not even for a second. And Hannah? She'd been just as convincing, her hollow eyes, her silence, the way she'd let herself be led away without a word. It was almost too real.

Too real.

Haruna stood there, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, her expression a storm of hurt and fury. She didn't hesitate. She stormed toward me, her small hands gripping the front of my shirt, yanking me back and forth with surprising strength.

"How can you do this to Hannah?!" she screamed, her voice raw with pain. "How can you lie to her like this?! Tell me why! Tell me why you'd hurt her like this!"

I didn't resist. I just let her shake me, her fury palpable, her tears splashing onto my shirt.

Then she whirled on Yuko, her voice breaking. "And you!" she spat, her words laced with venom. "How can you be with him, knowing Hannah is his girlfriend?! What kind of person are you?! You're a slut!"

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed Haruna's wrists, not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her stop. My voice was low, dangerous. "Haruna. That's enough. Don't talk to your sister like that."

Yuko's breath hitched, her voice trembling as she stepped forward. "Haruna, listen to me—it's not what you think—"

Haruna wasn't finished. She wrenched her wrists free from my grip, her nails digging into my skin as she stumbled back, her breath ragged. Her eyes burned into mine—wide, wounded, and brimming with a storm of emotions.

"Then what is it?!" she demanded, her voice cracking with betrayal. "If she's your girlfriend, then what about Hannah?! Don't you love her?!" Her hands trembled violently at her sides, fingers clenching and unclenching as if she were fighting the urge to strike me, to make me feel even a fraction of the pain she was in.

I stood my ground, my voice cold and unyielding. "Don't you already know whether I love Hannah or not?"

Haruna's lips parted, her face twisting in confusion. "What kind of answer is that?!" she snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "If you don't love her, then why did you pretend?! Why did you let her believe in you?!" Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously, refusing to let them fall.

"Was it all just a game to you?!" Her voice broke, the raw pain in her words cutting through the air like a blade.

I didn't look away. Didn't flinch. A new plan had already taken root in my mind—something to twist the knife deeper, to make her feel the full weight of her own choices. "I didn't lie to her," I said slowly, my voice dripping with icy calm. "I just did what you asked me to."

Haruna recoiled as if I'd struck her. "What—?" Her voice was barely a whisper now, her mind racing, her breath shallow. "When did I—?"

"Don't you remember?" I cut in, my tone sharp, almost mocking. "You pushed me away. You told me you didn't like me, that I should be with Hannah instead. You said it would be better for both of us." I took a step closer, watching her face crumple under the weight of her own words. "So I tried. For you. Because I loved you."

Her breath hitched, her hands flying to her mouth as if to stifle a sob. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice breaking, her eyes filled with regret.

"But it didn't work," I continued, my voice hardening. "Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't love her the way she deserved." I paused, letting the words sink in, watching her crumble before me.

"And then I realized—none of it mattered. Not Hannah. Not you. Not any of it." My voice dropped to a whisper, cold and final. "Because in the end, I couldn't make anyone happy."

Haruna's tears finally spilled over, streaking down her cheeks. "No..." she choked out, her voice trembling. "That's not true. I—I just wanted you to be happy—"

"You wanted me to be with someone else," I corrected her, my voice slicing through her excuses like a knife. "And I did. But it was a mistake." The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken pain. "And then I met your sister."

Haruna's head snapped up, her eyes widening in horror. "Sister...?" The word escaped her lips like a curse.

"She was worried about you," I said, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate tone. "She knew something was wrong. She could tell something had happened between us." I watched as Haruna's face paled, her hands trembling at her sides. "So she called me to the café to meet and talk."

Haruna staggered back as if I'd struck her, her hand flying to her chest. "No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That's why... that's why you were together in the café..." Her knees buckled slightly, but she forced herself to stay upright, her gaze darting between Yuko and me, her eyes filled with betrayal.

I watched as Haruna's face twisted in agony. "So I told her everything," I continued, my voice steady, unrelenting. "About how you pushed me away. About how I tried to move on. About how I failed."

Haruna's breath came in short, sharp gasps. She turned to Yuko, her voice raw with desperation. "Sister... did you know? Did you know about us?!" Her eyes flickered away, unable to meet Yuko's gaze.

Yuko, who had been silent until now, flinched at the sound of her name. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expression torn between guilt and heartbreak. "Haruna..." she started, her voice trembling.

"Answer me!" Haruna demanded, her voice cracking with desperation.

Yuko swallowed hard, her fingers twisting together. "I—I suspected," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't know for sure until he told me."

Haruna let out a broken, bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "So you knew. You knew, and you still—" She cut herself off, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "How could you, Sister?! He was mine first!"

Yuko's eyes filled with tears. "Haruna, I—"

"No!" Haruna screamed, her voice cracking with pain. "Don't you dare make excuses! You knew how much I loved him! You knew!" Her tears fell freely now, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "Please..." she begged, her voice breaking as she turned back to me. "Please, Jack. I made a mistake. I was scared. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She took a shaky step forward, her hand reaching out toward me, trembling. "Can we—can we still be together? I love you. I always have."

I didn't reply. I just watched her, my expression unreadable, as her hand dropped to her side, her body swaying as if she might collapse. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Desperation flashed in her eyes as she turned to Yuko, her voice raw. "Sister... please. You have to understand. He loves me. I know he does. And I love him." She took a shuddering breath. "Can you... Can you break up with him? For me?"

Yuko's breath hitched, her eyes widening in shock. "Haruna—"

"Please, Sister," Haruna begged, her voice cracking. "I can't lose him. Not again."

For a moment, Yuko hesitated. Her gaze flickered to me, conflicted, before she slowly nodded. "If that's what you want..." she started, her voice trembling.

I knew it was time to end the drama. By now, I had created something special in Yuko's heart—something fragile, something real. And as for Haruna... I didn't want to drive her to madness. I just wanted her to understand.

I walked toward Haruna, my voice low, almost gentle. "So you love me..." I said, my eyes searching hers. "Is that the truth?"

Haruna nodded, her eyes filled with hope and fear. "Yes," she whispered. "I do. I love you... a lot. Please... be my boyfriend again. I'm sorry I hurt you."

I stepped even closer to Haruna, my voice dropping to a whisper so low it was almost lost between us. The air between us felt electric, charged with years of unspoken pain and longing.

"So how can you guarantee that you won't push me away like before?" My fingers hovered near her cheek, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of my skin.

Haruna's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven gasps. Her hands trembled violently at her sides, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her dress until her knuckles turned white.

"I won't," she swore, her voice trembling with desperation. She lifted her gaze to mine, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I swear it, Jack. I'll never push you away again." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, her throat working against the sobs threatening to escape. "And if I ever do something to hurt you..." She took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can beat me. Scold me. Punish me however you want. I'll take it all. I'll endure anything, as long as you stay with me."

My hand finally moved, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that belied the storm of emotions inside me. "Haruna..." I murmured, my voice soft but laced with a sadness that wasn't entirely an act.

"You've already hurt me more than anyone ever has." My fingers lingered near her temple, my thumb tracing the path of a tear as it slid down her cheek.

She flinched as if I'd struck her, her entire body trembling. "I know," she whispered, her voice raw and broken. "I know, and I hate myself for it." Her hands reached up, gripping the front of my shirt as if she were afraid I'd disappear if she let go. "But I'll spend every day of my life making it up to you. Just... please, Jack. Give me one more chance. I'll do anything."

The room felt heavier, the weight of our shared history pressing down on us. Before I could respond, Yuko's voice cut through the tension, warm but laced with amusement. "

Congratulations, Haruna." She stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest, a small smile playing on her lips. "You finally told the truth. Do you have any idea how much work it took for Hannah and me to get you to this point?"

Haruna's head snapped toward Yuko, her eyes wide with shock. "Sister..." she breathed, her voice trembling. "Aren't you angry?" Her grip on my shirt loosened slightly, her fingers trembling as she searched Yuko's face for any sign of betrayal or resentment.

Yuko let out a soft, knowing chuckle, shaking her head. "Why would I be angry?" She unfolded her arms, stepping closer to Haruna, her expression softening.

"Haruna, you've been so blind, so wrapped up in your own pain that you couldn't see what was right in front of you." She glanced at me, her eyes reflecting a mix of affection and exasperation. "Jack planned everything. Every single moment was calculated to make you realize what you truly wanted."

Haruna's confusion deepened, her brows furrowing as she looked between Yuko and me. "But... the café..." she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I saw you two together. I saw you kiss her!" Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.

Yuko's smile faded slightly, her expression turning serious. "That's just it, Haruna. You didn't see what you thought you saw." She sighed, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Haruna's shoulder.

"Hannah pretending to be Jack's girlfriend, the scene where you saw me with him—it was all staged. He never kissed me. He never even touched me. It was all an illusion, Haruna. A performance to make you face your own feelings."

Haruna's mouth fell open, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "So... all of you were in on it?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of betrayal and dawning realization. "You all lied to me?" Her eyes flickered with hurt, her body swaying slightly as if she might collapse.

Yuko's grip on Haruna's shoulder tightened slightly, her voice firm but gentle. "We didn't lie, Haruna. We showed you the truth in the only way you'd believe it." She paused, her gaze softening.

"Hannah went through all of this for you. She let you believe she was betrayed, all because she knew it was the only way you'd finally admit how you feel about Jack."

Haruna's eyes welled up with fresh tears, her voice breaking. "Hannah..." she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. "She did all that... for me?"

Yuko nodded, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She did. Because she loves you, Haruna. More than you realize." She glanced at me, her voice taking on a teasing edge.

"And as for Jack..." She smirked, her eyes twinkling. "Well, he's not so bad either. I approve of him being your husband."

Haruna's face flushed a deep crimson at the word "husband." "Husband?!" she squeaked, her voice cracking in shock. She stumbled back slightly, her hands flying to her cheeks as she stared at me, her mind racing.

"Sister, what are you talking about?!" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, her entire body trembling with a mix of shock and something else—something warmer, something hopeful.

Yuko laughed softly, stepping back to give Haruna space. "You heard me," she said, her voice warm. "If you're going to marry Jack, then that's what he'll be your husband." She winked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And trust me, I'll make sure he treats you right. If he doesn't, he'll have to answer to me."

Haruna's eyes darted to me, her breath catching in her throat. "Jack..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "Is this... is this really happening?"

I reached for her hand, my grip firm but gentle, my thumb tracing circles over her knuckles. "If you want it to be," I said, my voice steady and sure. "But no more lies, Haruna. No more running away. If we're going to do this, it's for real. No more games, no more excuses."

She nodded frantically, her fingers tightening around mine as if she were afraid I'd slip away. "For real," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "I promise, Jack. No more lies. No more running." Her eyes searched mine, her expression raw and vulnerable. "I love you. I always have. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

Yuko watched us, her dark eyes softening as she took a deliberate step back, as if physically carving out space for us to breathe. The corners of her lips lifted in a smile—genuine, but tinged with something unreadable.

"Good," she said, her voice carrying the warmth of approval, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Because my sister deserves happiness, Jack. And if you're the one who can give it to her..."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. She paused, her gaze flickering between Haruna and me, her expression shifting from warmth to something far more serious.

The air around us seemed to still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. "Then I'll be the first to welcome you into the family." Her tone was steady, but then it sharpened, like a blade being drawn from its sheath. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, the warmth in them replaced by something colder, more dangerous.

"But if you hurt her again..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. The threat was clear, etched into every syllable. "I won't hesitate to make you regret it."

I met her gaze without flinching, my own voice firm, unyielding. "I know," I said. "And I won't."

Haruna let out a shaky breath beside me, her fingers trembling as she reached for my hand. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Jack..." The way she said my name—like it was a prayer, a confession, a promise all at once—sent a wave of determination through me. "I won't mess this up," she vowed, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. "I swear on everything I am."

I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to her lashes. The touch was gentle, but my voice was steady, unwavering.

"I know," I murmured. "And neither will I." I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. The world outside this moment ceased to exist. "We'll do this together, Haruna. No more secrets. No more fear."

She nodded, her hands rising to cover mine, her grip trembling but strong. "Together," she whispered, and the word felt like a vow.

Yuko let out a long, contented sigh, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched us. There was a satisfaction in her stance, as if she'd been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Finally," she said, her voice warm, almost amused.

"It's about time you two stopped dancing around each other." A smirk tugged at her lips, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But then, Haruna's face paled.

Her grip on my hands tightened, her voice suddenly laced with guilt. "Hannah..." she whispered, as if the name itself was a weight she couldn't bear. "I have to talk to her. I have to explain—"

Yuko's smirk faded, replaced by a more somber expression. She nodded, her arms still crossed. "Yeah, you should call her," she agreed. Then, after a beat, she added, "And you should explain to Aunt Julie, too. She didn't know it was all fake, so she's probably hating Jack right now."

There was a hint of something in her voice—regret, maybe, or resignation. She turned toward the door, but not before pausing to glance back at us one last time. "And Jack..." Her voice dropped, the warning in it unmistakable. "Remember what I said."

I didn't look away from Haruna, but I nodded. "I will."

Yuko slipped out of the room—or at least, that's what she wanted us to think.

The moment the door clicked shut, Haruna's breath hitched. Her fingers trembled against my skin, her voice filled with wonder, as if she still couldn't believe this was real. "Jack..." she whispered, her eyes searching mine. "I still can't believe this is real."

I smiled, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones in slow, reassuring strokes. "Believe it," I murmured. "Because it is. And it's only the beginning."

A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped her, her eyes shimmering with tears of relief and joy. "The beginning," she repeated, her voice trembling with the weight of the words. "I like the sound of that."

I pulled her closer, my arms wrapping around her as I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Me too," I whispered against her skin. "Me too."

And then, without warning, Haruna surged forward, her lips crashing into mine with a desperation that was equal parts clumsy and fierce. The kiss was hard, immature in its urgency, as if she was afraid this moment would slip away if she didn't hold onto it with everything she had.

When she finally pulled back, her breath came in ragged gasps, her cheeks flushed. "Jack... I'll go talk to Hannah," she said, her voice a mix of determination and shyness. She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she turned and hurried into her room, presumably to grab her phone.

I noticed Yuko still standing by the door, her body half-hidden in the shadows as if she were torn between leaving and staying. She wasn't just lingering—she was listening, her sharp eyes darting toward the sound of our voices, her breath held just a little too long.

There was something almost vulnerable in the way she hesitated, as though she were fighting an invisible pull. Curious, I reached out with my Telepathy

, slipping into her mind to hear the storm of thoughts she couldn't voice aloud.

At first, her emotions were a tangled mess, but then they crystallized into something raw and aching:

[Why... why do I feel this way? It's not like me to care so much. But seeing Haruna like this—seeing the way Jack looks at her, the way he's willing to go to such ridiculous lengths just to give her the chance to confess... It's infuriating.]

[And yet... I can't deny it. I'm jealous. Not of Haruna, not really. But of what she has. Someone who sees her, who chooses her. Someone who would move heaven and earth just to make her smile. Haruna doesn't even realize how lucky she is.]

Her thoughts darkened, twisting into something sharper, more painful.

[And then there's my past. Kenzo. That motherfucker, monster. Just thinking about him makes my blood boil.]

A flash of violent imagery—her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. [Because of him, I became this broken thing. If Master hadn't found me when she did... if she hadn't pulled me back from the edge... I would've let the darkness swallow me whole.]

For a moment, her mental voice trembled, the weight of old wounds pressing down on her. But then, almost as if she were shaking herself out of it, her thoughts shifted again, this time tinged with reluctant honesty.

[But why am I even thinking about this now? Haruna's happy. That's what matters. And Jack... he's not what I thought he was. I accused him of being just like every other man—selfish, opportunistic. But he never got angry at me. He never took advantage of me. He just... teased. It was like some kind of game between us. And maybe it was. Maybe it still is.]

A reluctant smirk flickered in her mind, quickly suppressed. [Hmph. Fine. I'll apologize. But I'm not going to make it easy for him. If he thinks he can just tease me and get away with it, he's got another thing coming. I'll give him a hard time—make him earn every bit of peace he wants from me.]

She was fighting it, I could tell. Yuko wasn't someone who surrendered easily, especially not to something as dangerous as her own heart.

But it was happening anyway.

She was falling, and the irony was, she didn't even know it yet.

Then, I deliberately let my footsteps grow louder as I approached, the sound echoing just enough to make her tense. When I finally stepped into her line of sight, I let my expression shift into one of exaggerated surprise, my eyebrows lifting playfully.

"Sister-in-law," I said, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt, as if savoring the way they'd make her react.

Yuko's entire body stiffened for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening before she could school her features back into neutrality.

A flicker of panic crossed her face—just a shadow—but it was there. She exhaled sharply through her nose, her voice coming out more controlled than I expected.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, though there was less bite in it than usual. After a pause, she added, almost grudgingly, "Just... call me Yuko. Or sister Yuko. For now."

I could see the internal battle raging behind her eyes, the way her pride warred with something else, something she wasn't ready to name. She shifted her weight, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve before she forced herself to still.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost lost between us, she spoke again. "That... I..." She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground before she forced herself to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack. For how I've been acting. I shouldn't have—"

I didn't let her finish. Stepping closer, I raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "I know," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Sister Yuko is too kind and too beautiful to really mean those things she says about wanting to kill me every other day."

I grinned, letting the teasing note in my voice take the sting out of the words. "I get it. You were just looking out for Haruna. I don't blame you for that."

Yuko's breath hitched, her eyes flickering with something that looked suspiciously like surprise. She opened her mouth as if to argue, but I pressed on before she could.

"And honestly," I continued, my tone turning more sincere, "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I've been teasing you relentlessly, and I never stopped to think about how it might come across. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that hums just beneath the surface, waiting for something—anything—to break it. I stood there, watching Yuko with a quiet intensity, studying the way her expression shifted like storm clouds before a downpour.

One moment, Yuko's eyes were sharp with defiance, the kind of look that could cut through steel. But then, just as quickly, they softened—her guard slipping for the briefest second—revealing something raw and almost vulnerable.

It was in the little things: the way her fingers twitched at her sides when she thought no one was watching, the way her voice, usually laced with venom, lost its edge when she spoke to me now. It was as if she were standing on the precipice of something she didn't understand, something that terrified her more than any battle ever could.

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable, as if she were trying to decipher whether I was friend or foe. Then, slowly, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No," she said, the word heavy with something that wasn't just frustration. "No, it's not just you. I... I overreacted. I always do." There was a rawness in her admission, a flicker of something that looked almost like shame.

I watched her for a second, the weight of the moment pressing down on us both. Then, with a small, deliberate smile, I broke the tension. "It's... okay," I said, my voice light but sincere. "Why don't we both stop apologizing to each other? It's getting awkward."

Yuko blinked, as if she hadn't expected that. For a second, she just stood there, processing. Then, as if suddenly remembering herself, she glanced at the clock on the wall. "I should get dinner ready," she murmured, her voice regaining some of its usual practicality.

"Let me help you," I offered, stepping closer before she could protest.

To my surprise, she didn't stop me.

We moved to the kitchen together, the space between us charged but no longer hostile. Yuko pulled out the raw ingredients from the refrigerator, her movements efficient and practiced.

I leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment before speaking. "Sister Yuko," I said, my tone playful but laced with sincerity, "why don't you let me cook? I'll show you I can take care of Haruna... and make her fatter in the process."

Yuko paused, her hands stilling as she turned to look at me, her expression caught between skepticism and amusement. "You?" she said, one eyebrow arched. "Cook?"

I grinned, rolling up my sleeves with exaggerated confidence. "Don't underestimate me. I've got skills."

She studied me for a long moment, as if deciding whether to trust me or call my bluff. Then, slowly, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the stove with a smirk. "Fine. But if you poison us, I'm holding you personally responsible."

I laughed, already reaching for the knives. "Deal. But fair warning—once you taste my cooking, you'll never want to let me out of this kitchen."

Yuko let out a snort, but there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "We'll see about that," she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched, threatening to break into a smile.

And just like that, the kitchen—once a battleground of sharp words and sharper glares—became something else entirely. A truce. A beginning. A quiet, unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, we were learning how to exist in the same space without trying to destroy each other.

Or at least, without too much destruction.

The kitchen had transformed into a space of unexpected warmth, the kind that comes when two people who once clashed find themselves moving in sync.

I took the lead in preparing the dishes, my hands steady as I seasoned the meat and prepped the vegetables, while Yuko worked beside me—her knife flashing through the ingredients with practiced precision, her fingers stirring the simmering pots on the gas stove with an efficiency that spoke of years of quiet domesticity. The rhythm between us was easy, almost natural, as if we had done this a hundred times before.

Our conversation flowed just as smoothly, mostly revolving around Haruna—her quirks, her habits, the way she had brightened during our trip. I recounted the way she had laughed at the smallest things, how her eyes had sparkled when she tried something new, and Yuko listened, her expressions shifting between amusement and something softer, something almost fond.

Then, a voice cut through the warmth of the kitchen.

"Jack... Sister..."

We both turned to see Haruna standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Jack, are you cooking?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief, as if the idea of me standing in front of a stove was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard.

Yuko, ever the instigator, didn't miss a beat. "Hmph," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Jack here claims he's going to cook for you every day. Says he'll turn you into a fat pig if you let him."

Haruna's face scrunched up in annoyance. "NO! I won't be a pig!" she protested, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

And then—something unexpected happened.

Yuko threw her head back and laughed.

It wasn't a small chuckle or a polite giggle. It was a full, unguarded laugh, rich and warm, the kind that filled the room and made everything feel lighter. I found myself chuckling too, but my attention was drawn to Haruna, who stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

"Sister..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You're... laughing."

Yuko's laughter cut off abruptly, as if she'd been caught doing something forbidden. She cleared her throat, her expression shifting back to its usual composure. "When did I—? You must've seen it wrong," she said, though the faintest hint of a smile still lingered at the corners of her mouth.

Haruna didn't buy it. She stepped forward, her eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like tears. "Sister, it's been so long... since I've really seen you laugh like that," she said softly.

"I don't know what happened to you when you disappeared, but after that... you stopped smiling. You stopped laughing. You stopped enjoying anything."

Before Yuko could protest, Haruna rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her sister in a tight hug. "Sister... I'm really happy," she murmured, her voice muffled against Yuko's shoulder.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I realized then—Yuko hadn't laughed like that, hadn't smiled like that, not since that dark day when her world had shattered. The day she had almost been broken beyond repair. The day she had nearly lost everything.

Something inside me tightened, a fierce protectiveness rising like a tide. I wanted to show her that life could still be good. That she could still laugh, still smile, still live—without fear, without shadows. I wanted to give her the love and care she had been denied for so long, to be the shield that kept the darkness at bay.

Yuko, still caught in Haruna's embrace, stiffened for a moment before her arms slowly, hesitantly, wrapped around her sister in return. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully controlled, but there was a tremor beneath the surface.

"Okay, okay... nothing happened to your sister when she disappeared," she said, though the words lacked their usual bite. "Didn't I tell you? I started working as a translator. That's why I've changed. The job requires me to maintain... seriousness."

She pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Haruna's shoulders as she met her sister's gaze. "Just think about it—if my boss takes me to a meeting with foreign investors and I'm laughing like some naive girl, what do you think will happen? Our company would never get the investment. We'd be looked down on."

Haruna wasn't convinced. She shook her head, her grip on Yuko tightening just a little. "I know, Sister... but I like my sister," she said, her voice firm. "The one who laughs and smiles. The one who isn't afraid to enjoy life."

Yuko's breath hitched, her eyes flickering with something raw and unguarded. For a moment, she looked like she might argue, might retreat back into the walls she had built so carefully around herself. But then, slowly, she exhaled, her shoulders dropping just a fraction.

"Haruna..." Yuko murmured, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet hum of the kitchen. The weight of the moment hung between us—heavy, fragile, like the first light of dawn after a long, suffocating night.

And in that silence, I knew.

This was just the beginning.

The beginning of healing. The beginning of something new. The beginning of Yuko allowing herself, however cautiously, to remember what it felt like to live—not just survive, but live—without the weight of the past crushing her every step.

Yuko exhaled, as if shaking off the vulnerability that had momentarily taken hold of her. She straightened, her usual sharpness returning to her voice, though it lacked its former edge. "Okay, enough talk about me," she said, turning to Haruna with a raised eyebrow. "Tell me—have you already talked to Hannah?"

Haruna nodded, her fingers twisting together nervously. "I have," she admitted, glancing at me before continuing. "Hannah already explained everything to Aunt Julie, and I apologized to her, too. But..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Aunt Julie said she's still angry at you, Jack. She wants you to apologize to her in person... tomorrow."

Haruna's gaze dropped to the floor, guilt flashing across her face as she turned back to me. "Jack... I'm sorry. Because of me, you're in trouble."

Without hesitation, I pulled her into a hug, my voice warm and teasing. "Don't be sorry," I murmured into her hair. "For you, I'm willing to get into any trouble, my little fool girlfriend."

Haruna let out a muffled laugh against my chest, some of the tension leaving her body. But my attention shifted when I noticed Yuko turn her head slightly, her expression unreadable. Curious, I reached out with my Telepathy, tuning into her thoughts.

[Jack is really a good person... Even being so rich, he knows how to cook, take care of others... and he's so good to Haruna...]

I couldn't help but smile at the unwitting compliment, though a part of me wondered what she'd say if she ever found out the full truth about me. If she really knew, she'd probably kill me on the spot.

Haruna, still nestled against me, tilted her head up, her eyes bright with affection. "You always say things like that," she murmured, her voice soft. "But I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

I chuckled, ruffling her hair playfully. "Trouble is my middle name," I teased. "Besides, Aunt Julie might be scary, but I've faced worse."

Yuko, who had been quietly observing our exchange, let out a quiet snort. "You're way too confident for your own good," she muttered, though there was no real bite in her words.

I grinned, meeting her gaze. "Confidence is my charm, Sister Yuko."

She rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips before she could suppress it. "Idiot," she muttered, though the word lacked its usual venom.

Haruna's laughter still lingered in the air, bright and carefree, like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "See, Jack? Even Sister thinks you're ridiculous." She grinned up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and I couldn't help but match her smile.

"And yet, she still tolerates me," I shot back, wagging my eyebrows for extra effect. "That's the real miracle here."

Yuko let out another one of those rare, unguarded laughs—small, but genuine. It was the kind of sound that transformed the kitchen from just another room into something warmer, something that felt like home. But the moment was fragile, and it shattered as soon as Haruna's next words cut through the warmth.

"Sister... should I call Mom and tell her?" Haruna asked, already bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitement.

I watched Yuko's face carefully. For a split second, her expression flickered—something raw and unguarded flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a smile. "Yeah," she said softly, though her voice carried a weight that wasn't there before. "Mom would be happy."

Haruna didn't hesitate. With a joyful squeal, she dashed out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she rushed to her room to make the call.

Yuko watched her go, her voice barely above a murmur. "This girl..." There was something in her tone—a mix of affection and something else, something heavier. [She's always been like this... so eager, so trusting. Unlike me.]

My mind drifted to the photos I had seen of her mother, Kasumi. The resemblance was striking—same sharp eyes, same stubborn set of the jaw.

But where Yuko carried herself with a guarded intensity, Kasumi had looked... different. Softer. Warmer. The kind of warmth that made you want to lean into it, to trust it. But Yuko... she's like a blade wrapped in silk. Beautiful, but dangerous if you don't handle her right.

Yuko's voice snapped me back to the present. "What are you thinking?" she asked, her tone sharp with suspicion. "Don't tell me you're nervous... thinking about our mom?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, playing up the nervousness. "Yeah, I am nervous," I admitted, letting my voice carry just the right amount of mock panic. "Sister Yuko, when the time comes, you have to help me impress Mother-in-law. I can't face her alone!"

Yuko went quiet, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. [Mom...] The thought alone sent a pang through her chest. [I haven't talked to her in so long. Not since... not since everything fell apart.]

Her voice came out colder than before, though the usual bite was missing. "Hmph. Why should I help you?" she said, but her thoughts betrayed her. [He doesn't know. He doesn't know how much it hurts to even think about her. How much I miss her. How much I hate that I miss her.]

I clutched my chest dramatically, pretending to be terrified. "Sister Yuko, you're not thinking of taking revenge on me, right? Don't tell Mother-in-law all the bad things about me! She'll never let me near Haruna again!"

Yuko's lips twitched, her eyes glinting with amusement. [Oh, this is gold. I've got him right where I want him.] "That depends on my mood..." she said, a small smile playing at her lips.

[Hmph... now I've got his weakness. I'll definitely bully him over this. Make him squirm every time Mom's name comes up. Serves him right for being so smug all the time.]

But beneath the amusement, her thoughts took a softer turn. [But... I haven't talked to Mom in a long time. I miss her. I miss the way she used to laugh, the way she'd scold me for being too stubborn. I miss the way she'd pull me into a hug, no matter how much I pretended to hate it.]

[I miss her... but I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to go back after everything that happened.]

I watched her carefully, seeing the conflict in her eyes—the stubbornness, the longing, the fear of reaching out after so much time. I knew this wasn't just about me or Haruna. It was about her. About the walls she had built, the bridges she hadn't burned but had let rot with silence.

I decided to shift the mood, sensing the weight of the conversation pressing down on Yuko. "Sister Yuko," I said, nodding toward the stove, "the food's ready. Help me put it on the dining table?"

I turned off the gas, carefully transferring the dishes into serving utensils before dumping the dirty pots and pans into the wash basin. But as I turned around, my stomach dropped.

Yuko was reaching out, her fingers hovering over the hot bowl I had just pulled off the stove. She wasn't even looking—her mind was still lost in thought, her expression distant, as if she were trapped in a memory. Before I could even react, her fingertips brushed against the scorching surface.

She didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't even seem to notice.

She just stood there, holding the bowl, her face blank, as if the pain hadn't registered yet.

"SHIT—" I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from the heat. "Put your fingers in my mouth," I ordered, my voice sharp with urgency. "Are you a fool, Sister Yuko? Why the hell are you just holding a hot bowl like that?"

Yuko blinked, her dazed expression clearing as she realized her fingers were pressed against my lips. "W-What... what are you doing?!" she stammered, trying to yank her hand back, but I held firm, my grip unyielding.

I pulled her fingers from my mouth and immediately saw the damage—her skin was an angry, burning red, already blistering. My jaw tightened. "Look," I said, my voice rough with frustration as I grabbed her wrist again, dragging her toward the sink. "It's burned. Come here."

I shoved her hand under the running water, the cold stream hissing against her injured fingers. Yuko tried to pull away, her pride flaring. "Jack, let go! I can do it myself!"

I didn't listen. "Shut up," I snapped, my voice softer now but no less firm. "You're not any better than Haruna when it comes to taking care of yourself."

Yuko fell silent, her breath hitching as the cold water numbed the pain. [He's... touching me. He's worried about me.] Her thoughts were a chaotic mix of shock and something else—something warmer, something she didn't dare name. [Why did he...? No one's ever...]

I kept her hand under the water, my grip gentle but insistent. "You just spaced out and grabbed a burning hot bowl like it was nothing," I muttered, my voice low. "What the hell were you even thinking about?"

Yuko didn't answer. She just stood there, her fingers trembling slightly beneath the stream, her eyes fixed on the water as if it held the answers to questions she couldn't voice.

I glanced at her, my expression softening despite my frustration. "You're hopeless," I said, but there was no real bite in my words. Just a concern. "Stay still. We're not done yet."

Yuko didn't argue this time. She just let me take care of her, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and something dangerously close to gratitude—something she didn't want to name.

[This is bad. This is really bad.] [Because for the first time in years... I don't feel so alone.] [Why don't I hate him? When he's holding my hand, why does my heartbeat race like this? Why does it feel like my chest is going to burst?]

I noticed Yuko's eyes glistening, the tears welling up before one finally slipped free, tracing a path down her cheek. Without thinking, I let go of her hand and reached up, my thumb brushing away the tear.

My voice was softer than I intended. "Why are you crying? It must hurt, but don't worry—you'll be fine. It won't even leave a scar."

She didn't pull away. She just stared at me, her breath uneven, like she was fighting something inside herself.

I turned off the tap, the water dripping to a stop, and took her hand again, leading her toward the sofa. My voice sharpened as I called out, "Haruna! Come here—now! Your sister's hurt!"

Haruna came running, her phone clutched in one hand, her face already pale with worry. She was mid-video call, her eyes flicking between Yuko's tear-streaked face and me. "What happened?! Sister, why are you crying?!"

I didn't waste time. "Get the first aid box. She burned her finger."

A voice—warm, rich, and laced with urgency—floated from Haruna's phone. "Haruna? What's going on? What happened to Yuko? Where is she hurt? Is she bleeding?!"

Kasumi.

Yuko's body tensed like she'd been struck. I could see it in her face—she knew her mother had jumped to the worst conclusion that she was injured on a mission. That she was bleeding out somewhere, alone.

Haruna quickly set the phone down on the sofa, the screen facing upward. "Sister, you talk to Mom. I'll get the first aid box."

Yuko's voice was ice. "Wait—Haruna."

But Haruna was already moving.

Yuko didn't even look at the phone. She just sat there, her jaw clenched, her fingers curling into fists. But I couldn't look away. The woman on the screen was stunning—elegant, mature, with a quiet strength that made my pulse spike.

She was nothing like Julie, nothing like the women I'd known. There was something real about her, something that made my chest tighten with an instinctive need to shield her from the world.

I swallowed hard as the phone lay angled toward the ceiling, hiding us from her view.

Kasumi's voice trembled. "Yuko... I know you don't want to talk to me. But please, just let me hear your voice. Let me know you're alright. No matter what, I love you. You're my precious little girl. No matter how much you push me away, that will never change."

Yuko's breath hitched. Another tear slipped free.

I nudged her gently. "Sister Yuko... why don't you take the phone? Your mom is worried."

She turned her head sharply, her eyes burning with something raw and furious. "If you want to talk to her so badly, you do it. I won't."

I didn't hesitate. I picked up the phone, and Kasumi's face filled the screen—her dark eyes wide with concern, her lips parted in surprise as she took me in. "Oh, you must be Jack. Haruna's told me so much about you..."

Her voice was soft, but the worry beneath it was unmistakable.

I stumbled over my words. "A-Aunt, hello—"

"Can you please tell me what happened to Yuko?" Kasumi's fingers tightened around something off-screen, her knuckles white. "She won't speak to me. Is she badly hurt? Is it her hands? Her face? Please, I need to know—"

Yuko's voice cut through, sharp as a blade. "Don't tell her anything." She glared at me, her eyes blazing. "She's not my mother. Hang up."

Kasumi's breath hitched. "Yuko...?" Her voice cracked. "Baby, please—just let me see you. Let me help. You don't have to do this alone. You don't have to push everyone away—"

"I said hang up!" Yuko's voice was a snarl, her hands shaking. "I don't need her. I don't want her. Why the hell is she acting like she cares now?!"

Kasumi flinched like she'd been struck. "Yuko..."

Yuko's laugh was bitter, broken. "You are not my mother.. I have no mother..."

Silence.

Kasumi's eyes filled with tears. " But I never stopped loving you. Not for a single second."

Yuko's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. " Look at me! I'm a mess! I can't even—" She cut herself off, her voice breaking.

Haruna returned with the first aid box, her face pale. I handed the phone back to her, but Kasumi wasn't done. Her voice was desperate. "Haruna, please—let me see her. Let me see my daughter."

Yuko's voice was a growl. "Haruna, don't you dare—"

But Haruna lifted her chin, her own eyes glistening. "Sister, I'm not afraid of you anymore. Not when Jack's here. And I know you miss her. I've seen you. I've seen you staring at her pictures when you think no one's looking."

Yuko's face twisted. "Haruna!"

Haruna turned the phone toward Yuko, her voice trembling but firm. "Mother... look. She's being stubborn, but she's not hurt badly. Just her finger. But she does miss you. She just won't admit it."

Kasumi's breath shuddered. "Yuko... my sweet girl..."

Yuko turned her face away, but not before I saw it—the way her lips trembled, the way her shoulders shook like she was holding back something far bigger than tears. My chest tightened. It wasn't just pain. It was something deeper, something that had been festering for years.

And for the first time, I really understood.

She wasn't just angry.

She was broken—cracked open in a way that made every word, every breath, feel like it might shatter her completely.

I reached for her hand, my fingers wrapping around hers. "I'm not hurt," she muttered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost. "I'm fine."

I looked at her, my own frustration rising. "Sister Yuko..." My voice was firmer than I intended, but I couldn't stand seeing her like this—so stubborn, so alone in her pain. "Stop acting like a child. If you're hurt, just say it. No one's going to judge you for feeling something."

She didn't pull away as I took her fingers, carefully dabbing the burn cream onto the reddened skin. She didn't flinch. Didn't even hiss. Just sat there, her body rigid, her breath shallow, like she'd already decided pain was something she didn't deserve to acknowledge.

"It doesn't even hurt," she lied, her voice hollow.

I didn't call her out. Not yet.

Instead, I glanced at the screen where Kasumi's face was still framed in worry, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Aunt, don't worry," I said, keeping my voice steady. "She's fine now."

Kasumi exhaled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thank you, Jack." Her voice was warm, thick with relief. "You're such a good boy. Haruna's lucky to have someone like you looking out for her."

Haruna's face turned bright red. "Mom!!"

Kasumi's lips curved into a small, tired smile. "Jack..." Her tone shifted, becoming more serious, her gaze intense even through the screen. "I need to ask you something. Take care of both my daughters, alright? I know Yuko..."

She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. "I know she acts like she doesn't need anyone, but she does. She does. And Haruna—well, she's my sweet girl, but she can be reckless when she's worried."

She leaned closer, her expression earnest. "If she does anything foolish, you'll tell me, won't you? I'll make sure she gets a proper scolding."

Haruna crossed her arms, pouting. "Mom! I'm your daughter! Why are you teaming up with him?!" She shot me a mock-glare before turning back to the screen. "And what if Jack bullies me? Who's going to scold him then?"

Kasumi chuckled softly, but her eyes were still heavy with concern. "Oh, Haruna. If Jack ever bullies you, you come to me immediately, and I'll—"

"You'll what?" Yuko's voice cut through, sharp and bitter. She finally turned her head, her eyes burning with a mix of defiance and something far more fragile. "Scold him? Punish him? Like you did with me?"

The room went still.

Kasumi's breath hitched. "Yuko..."

Yuko's voice trembled, but she didn't stop. "You weren't there. Not when it mattered. So don't act like you get to decide who protects us now." Her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "You lost that right a long time ago."

Kasumi's face paled. "Baby, I—"

"Don't." Yuko's voice broke. "Just... don't." She looked away again, her throat working like she was swallowing back something painful. "I don't need your empty words. I don't need anyone."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Haruna's eyes welled up. "Sister..."

I tightened my grip on Yuko's hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You're not alone," I said quietly, my voice rough. "Whether you like it or not."

Yuko's breath hitched. For a second, I thought she might pull away. But she didn't.

Kasumi's voice was barely a whisper. "Yuko... I love you. No matter what you say, no matter how much you push me away, I love you."

Yuko's lips pressed into a thin line. "Love doesn't fix anything."

"No," Kasumi admitted, her voice breaking. "But it's a start."

Yuko remained silent, her entire body trembling—not from physical pain, but from the storm raging inside her. Her fingers clenched around mine with desperate intensity, as if I were the only thing anchoring her to the present. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips, erratic and wild.

In that moment, something shifted inside me. I finally understood—truly, completely.

She wasn't just broken.

She was terrified.

Terrified of needing someone. Terrified of showing weakness. Terrified that if she let herself depend on another person, even for a moment, the carefully constructed walls around her heart might crumble entirely.

But for the first time since I'd known her, she wasn't pushing me away.

And that small, fragile trust felt heavier than any confession.

Then, without warning, Yuko stood abruptly. Her chair scraped violently against the floor, the sound grating against the thick silence. She turned away, her shoulders hunched as if bracing against an invisible weight. "I need to be alone," she muttered, her voice raw with restrained emotion.

I watched her retreat, each step seeming to cost her something precious. The door to her room clicked shut behind her with finality.

On the screen, Kasumi's breath hitched. A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. She looked... devastatingly beautiful in her vulnerability. The kind of beauty that wasn't about perfection, but about the raw, exposed truth of a mother's love—love that had been rejected, yet persisted anyway.