It was the break of dawn when Ayaka leaned back in her chair, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. Her fingers, still tingling from hours of typing, hovered over the keyboard as she admired the final sentence of the first chapter.
The soft light of the rising sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm, golden hue.
"I'm finally done!" Ayaka exclaimed, stretching her arms high above her head, a soft groan of relief escaping her lips. The movement caused her loose pajama top to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of her smooth skin.
Akihiko, who hadn't slept a wink, sat a few feet away. He had spent the night keeping her company, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by a quiet attentiveness that made her chest tighten.
Hearing her announcement, he rose from his chair and crossed the room with a graceful ease that made Ayaka's breath hitch.
"Let's read it before printing." he said, his deep voice tinged with a calm authority. Leaning over her chair, his face was now mere inches from hers, his sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the screen.
The faint scent of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something musky—invaded her senses, making her heart race.
Akihiko's intense blue eyes scanned the screen, his focus unwavering as he read each line with a furrowed brow. His lashes, long and enviably thick, cast delicate shadows on his cheekbones.
Ayaka tried to focus on the manuscript, but her gaze kept drifting to him. The curve of his jawline, the way his lips parted slightly as he murmured her words under his breath—it was intoxicating.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize he had spoken until he repeated himself.
"It's good. Really good." he said softly, his lips curling into a small, approving smile.
Ayaka's chest tightened, and her cheeks burned.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world outside faded.
She could feel the warmth of his breath, the magnetic pull between them almost unbearable.
Akihiko seemed frozen too, his gaze flickering to her lips before darting back to her eyes.
The space between them shrank ever so slightly, and Ayaka felt her pulse quicken.
Her hands trembled, hovering over the keyboard.
The silence was thick, charged with something unspoken yet undeniably electric.
Finally, Akihiko blinked and straightened abruptly, clearing his throat. The spell was broken.
"I-I'll go print it then!" Ayaka stammered, her voice shaky as she slapped her cheeks in an attempt to cool her flushed face. She hastily pressed the print button, her fingers fumbling with the mouse.
"And I'll make us some coffee..." Akihiko replied, his voice a little rougher than usual. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room without looking back.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Akihiko leaned against the hallway wall, his hand pressed to his chest as if to steady his pounding heart.
He had always enjoyed teasing Ayaka—her reactions were priceless—but this felt different.
The closeness, the way her gaze lingered on him, the soft hitch in her breath—it all stirred something deep within him. Something dangerous.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"Pull yourself together!" he muttered under his breath, though the memory of her wide, mesmerized eyes refused to leave him.
Back in the room, Ayaka sat frozen, her cheeks still burning. She clutched her chest, her heart racing as though it might leap out at any moment.
"What was that?" she wondered, her fingers brushing her lips unconsciously.
The faint whir of the printer filled the silence, but all she could hear was the echo of Akihiko's voice and the memory of his lingering gaze.
------
Akihiko stepped into the kitchen, the faint click of the door behind him signaling his retreat from the tension-filled moment in Ayaka's room. The kettle sat patiently on the stovetop, its contents slowly heating.
As he waited for the water to boil, he wandered toward the living room, his curiosity piqued by the soft hum of familiarity the space carried.
His gaze landed on a picture frame hanging near the front door. Drawn in by its simplicity, he moved closer, studying the image within. The photo was old, slightly faded but still vibrant with memories.
At the center was a younger Ayaka, dressed in a middle-school uniform, her cheeks puffed slightly in a playful attempt at looking cute. Standing beside her were two taller boys—Kei and Kai, both in high school uniforms.
Their serious expressions and tidy appearances screamed perfection, their stature exuding an air of quiet confidence.
Akihiko's lips twitched into a smirk as his eyes rested on Ayaka's pouty face. "Dr. Yamamoto and Professor Yamamoto both look so poised and brilliant." he murmured to himself, his tone dripping with amusement.
"And then there's their little princess..." His gaze lingered on Ayaka's younger self.
"Just trying her hardest to look cute..." he added, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
Shifting his focus, Akihiko's eyes moved to the couple at the edge of the photo. "This must be their parents..." he muttered thoughtfully.
The man had an air of quiet authority, while the woman's kind smile seemed to soften the picture's overall tone.
However, something else caught his attention—the sleek, red car parked behind them. Its design was distinct, almost too familiar.
His brow furrowed as he leaned closer, trying to place where he had seen the car before. "Hmm... where have I seen this car before?" he murmured, tapping a finger against his chin.
The thought nagged at him, tugging at the edges of his memory.
Before he could delve deeper, the high-pitched whistle of the kettle pierced the air, jolting him out of his reverie.
"Right..." he muttered, turning back toward the kitchen. As he reached for the kettle, he heard soft footsteps behind him.
"Hey, I'm done printing. Is the coffee ready?" Ayaka called out, her voice carrying a mix of cheerfulness and exhaustion.
She entered the kitchen, her hair slightly disheveled from hours at her desk.
Akihiko glanced over his shoulder, his usual teasing smirk absent as he set the kettle down.
"Wait a moment..." he replied curtly, his mind still preoccupied with the image and the peculiar familiarity of the car.
He began to fumble with the coffee beans, suddenly aware he hadn't actually started preparing the drinks.
Ayaka raised an eyebrow, noting his distracted demeanor. "And here I thought surgeons were supposed to move gracefully swift." she quipped, sliding into a chair at the small kitchen table.
Her tone was light, but her eyes watched him closely.
Akihiko's hands stilled, and he exhaled sharply through his nose before resuming his task.
"Even surgeons are allowed to have off moments." he said flatly, though the corner of his lips twitched.
Ayaka leaned forward on the table, resting her chin on her hand. "Off moments, huh? What were you doing in the living room? You looked pretty deep in thought." she teased, her voice lilting with curiosity.
He glanced at her briefly before returning to the task of grinding coffee beans.
"Just looking at some old photos." he said nonchalantly, though the memory of the car tugged at his thoughts again.
"Oh? My embarrassing childhood photos, no doubt." Ayaka groaned, covering her face with both hands. "Please tell me you didn't laugh too hard."
A small chuckle escaped him despite himself. "Just a little..." he admitted, glancing over with a playful gleam in his eye.
"Your 'trying hard to look cute' phase was... something."
Ayaka huffed, throwing him a mock glare. "I was adorable, okay? You just don't appreciate pure, unfiltered charm."
"Adorable is... one way to put it." Akihiko teased, finally pouring hot water over the coffee grounds.
The rich aroma filled the air, mingling with the warmth of their banter.
Ayaka crossed her arms, pouting. "You're impossible to please, Dr. Nakamura."
He slid a steaming cup of coffee toward her, his smirk returning in full force. "And yet, you still put up with me."
Ayaka rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Unfortunately..."
------
The early morning air was crisp, the faint hum of city life beginning to stir outside.
Inside the small apartment, the soft clink of ceramic mugs punctuated the quiet as Ayaka and Akihiko sat across from each other at the modest kitchen table.
The scent of coffee lingered between them, its warmth curling in the space like an unspoken truce.
Akihiko took a measured sip of his coffee, his sharp gaze flicking to Ayaka over the rim of the cup.
His tone, though calm, carried a chill that felt almost deliberate. "Ms. Yamamoto..." he began, his voice low and steady, "Where are your parents?"
She paused, caught off guard by the question but hiding it well.
Setting her mug down, she met his gaze directly, her expression composed. "They passed away in an accident." she said simply, the weight of the revelation offset by her almost casual delivery.
Akihiko's brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained composed. "I see..." he said, his tone softening slightly, though it remained restrained. "My condolences."
Ayaka offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, brushing off the gravity of the moment. "Thank you, but it's alright. It happened when I was in middle school. Afterward, my aunt moved us to Hokkaido and took care of us. When my brothers finished college and started working, they brought me back to Tokyo so I could finish high school and eventually attend university."
Akihiko nodded slightly, his movements precise, deliberate. "Your brothers seem... dependable." he remarked, his tone devoid of unnecessary sentiment but not unkind.
"They are..." she agreed, her smile warming briefly before fading. "It's strange, though. I heard the accident involved another family. Sometimes I wonder how lives intertwine in such tragic ways."
The room fell quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock on the wall. Akihiko's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp features softening almost imperceptibly.
"You've handled it well." he said at last, his words like a balm, though his voice remained cool.
Ayaka shrugged lightly, trying to downplay his observation. "It's just life, isn't it? You adapt or... you don't."
Akihiko's lips curved into a faint, almost detached smile. "Spoken like someone who's already figured it out." he said, his tone unreadable.
The moment stretched until the shrill buzz of an alarm from Ms. Yamamoto's phone broke the quiet. She startled slightly, glancing at the device. "Oh, it's already six! I should get ready for work."
Akihiko leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanged. "And I should get some rest. I have surgery tonight." he said, standing with smooth precision as she gathered their mugs and moved to the sink.
"You should rest well, Dr. Nakamura." she called over her shoulder, rinsing the mugs. "Thank you for helping me write the first chapter, by the way."
He stepped forward, taking the mugs from her with an efficient motion that brooked no argument. "Don't let me down." he said, his voice carrying a quiet authority.
She turned to face him, a genuine smile breaking through her composed demeanor. "I won't! Thank you!" she said earnestly before retreating toward the bathroom.
Akihiko watched her go, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Alone in the kitchen, he carefully set the mugs on the drying rack, the soft sound of water dripping filling the silence.
"She's... something else..." he murmured under his breath, the warmth of their conversation lingering despite his own efforts to maintain his distance.
------
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly in the office as Ayaka stood stiffly in front of Daiki's cluttered desk, her palms pressed together tightly in front of her.
The once-familiar space now felt suffocating, her chest tightening with each passing second.
She tried to keep her breathing steady, but the rhythmic flipping of pages from Daiki's hands was a relentless reminder of what was at stake.
Ayaka wasn't usually this anxious. After all, she'd passed countless drafts to her editor in the past without so much as a tremble. But this time was different.
This draft—the one she had labored over for weeks—was a romance novel, something completely outside her comfort zone. It was what her fans wanted, though, after her last genre had been met with lukewarm reception.
Her gaze was locked onto Daiki, the editor-in-chief whose stoic demeanor had never felt so intimidating.
Each flip of the page felt like a dagger, each pause in his reading like a deliberate test of her patience.
She couldn't read his expression; his poker face was impeccable, his eyes scanning the words with a calm precision that belied the weight of the moment.
Her heartbeat quickened, echoing in her ears. She shifted on her feet but refused to look away, her eyes fixed on Daiki as though her stare alone could sway his judgment.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Daiki turned the last page and placed the manuscript on the desk with an audible thud. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply, the sound heavy with deliberation.
Ayaka swallowed hard, her throat dry.
"Ms. Yamamoto..."