Yoshida froze, her breath hitching as her emerald eyes locked with Haruto's.
She didn't know why, but the walls she had painstakingly built around her heart felt like they were crumbling before the man sitting across from her.
It wasn't just his handsome face or his confident demeanor—it was something deeper.
His presence was disarming, his touch soft yet rough with calluses that spoke of a hard life.
Her voice was barely audible as she murmured, "But I don't want to be saved…"
The words fell short of reaching him, a hesitant whisper meant more for herself than for Haruto.
Gathering her courage, Yoshida finally looked up. "Hayase… do you really want to listen to my story?"
Haruto leaned forward, his expression serious as he nodded. "I'm listening."
Yoshida exhaled deeply, her voice trembling as she began. "I remember my childhood vividly, though I wish I didn't. It was filled with hate—hate from my own mother."
