Miyuki's POV
The days blurred together, stitched by Souta's laughter and the thrill of being seen. At school, we kept our distance smiles across the classroom, brief glances that lasted too long. But outside, the world felt like it belonged to us alone.
We went to cafés where the waiters thought we were just another couple skipping cram school. We sat in darkened theaters where the glow of the screen couldn't hide the way his fingers brushed against mine, casual at first, then deliberate. I told myself each time it was harmless, that Haruto never had to know.
And yet, with every day, I felt the ground shift beneath me.
Haruto's kindness was safe, familiar. Souta's presence was fire, reckless and consuming.
One evening, we slipped into a small restaurant tucked away in a narrow alley. The warmth of the lights, the soft clatter of dishes, the quiet hum of strangers it all faded when Souta leaned across the table and said, "See? You're smiling without even realizing it. With him, you always look like you're carrying something heavy."
I froze. The truth of it burned. I wanted to deny it, but the words tangled on my tongue. Instead, I stirred my drink, avoiding his gaze.
Later, we walked through the city streets, neon lights painting the night. Souta's hand found mine, firm, unshaken. I didn't pull away.
And on the fifth night, it happened.
The love hotel was quiet, its hallways humming with secrets nobody spoke aloud. My heart pounded as we slipped into the room, the door closing behind us like a final line drawn in the sand.
I told myself I loved Haruto. I told myself this was just a moment, a mistake I could bury. But when Souta's lips found mine, when his hands pulled me close, all those lies crumbled.
Afterward, tangled in the sheets, the guilt returned like a flood. I turned away, clutching the blanket. "I'm not leaving Haruto," I whispered. "No matter what happens between us… he's still my boyfriend. Promise me you'll keep this a secret."
Souta laughed, low and dangerous, before leaning closer. "What if you become pregnant with my child?"
My stomach lurched. For a moment, the air felt too thin. But I forced a shaky smile, clinging to the fragile belief I had always held. "If that happens… I know Haruto will take care of us. Because he's too kind. That's why… that's why I love him."
Souta's grin widened, predatory, as he pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard, stealing the breath from my chest.
And still, I didn't resist.
Haruto's POV
The morning of my departure was clear, the sky a perfect stretch of blue above the garden. Cicadas buzzed in the distance, their rhythm steady, unrelenting, as though marking the end of my time here.
I stood at the gate, suitcase at my side, the weight of my notebook carefully tucked within.
My grandmother stood before me, her posture as proud as ever, though her eyes softened when they met mine. The maids gathered quietly behind her, bowing their heads in respect.
"Three days became fifteen," she said lightly, though her tone carried meaning beneath the words. "You've grown in that time."
I bowed deeply. "Thank you… for everything."
She stepped forward, placing her hands gently on my shoulders. Then, to my surprise, she pulled me into a firm embrace. Her kimono smelled faintly of cedar and soap.
"Take care of yourself, Haruto," she murmured, her voice steady. Then she pressed a kiss to my forehead, the gesture both tender and commanding. "The world will test you. Do not waver."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "I won't."
The maids echoed their farewells softly, bowing once more as I stepped into the waiting car that would take me to the station.
On the train, the countryside blurred past in streaks of green and gold. My reflection stared back at me in the window calm, composed, but sharper than the boy who had first come here.
I pulled out my phone and dialed home.
The line clicked, and my father's voice answered, warm but weary. "Haruto? Is everything alright?"
"Yes," I said, watching the horizon rush by. "I'm on my way back."
There was a pause, then my mother's voice chimed faintly in the background, sweet and practiced. "We'll be waiting, Haruto."
I ended the call without another word, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
The train carried me closer to home, closer to the lies and the masks waiting for me.
But I was not returning as the same boy who had left.
The blade was sharpened.
And soon, it would be tested.