Watching Sayaka enjoy her ramen awakened a small craving in Kyouko. It had been ages since she'd indulged in instant noodles—a guilty pleasure from years past. With a smile, she decided to treat herself.
Quietly, she made her way to the kitchen, pulling a pack of ramen from the pantry. As she prepared the noodles, she added her own touches: a sprinkle of green onions, a dash of sesame oil, and some leftover vegetables from the fridge. The aroma brought back memories of simpler times, filling her with unexpected nostalgia.
When her bowl was ready, Kyouko returned to the table and sat across from Sayaka and Haruki. Sayaka looked up, mildly surprised but amused. "Mom, are you really eating ramen with us?"
Kyouko laughed softly. "Just this once. It feels like a small treat."
Haruki smiled, savoring the warmth of the moment. It was times like these that made him appreciate being part of this family, finding comfort in their shared simplicity.
After finishing her bowl, Sayaka stretched and let out a sleepy sigh. "I'm heading upstairs," she said, wobbling slightly.
Kyouko, noticing her daughter's exhaustion, smiled mischievously. "Sayaka, you should shower before bed."
Sayaka shook her head, giving her mom a playful look. "Too tired, Mom."
Kyouko raised an eyebrow. "And how do you expect Haruki to sleep next to you if you're all... smelly?" she teased.
"Mom!" Sayaka whined, cheeks flushing pink. "I don't smell!"
Kyouko chuckled as Sayaka grumbled her way up the stairs. Haruki caught Kyouko's amused glance, smiling at the affectionate bond between mother and daughter. Her gentle teasing reminded him of why he felt so at ease in their home.
As Sayaka disappeared into her room, Kyouko sighed, her motherly warmth softening her features. She glanced at Haruki and shrugged. "I suppose she'll manage without it just this once."
Haruki laughed quietly, comforted by her presence. He gathered the dishes and approached the sink, but Kyouko gently placed her hand on his arm, her touch warm. "No need, Haruki. You should go keep Sayaka company. I can finish up here."
His eyes were drawn to the curve of her waist, captivated by her figure. Kyouko's beauty was striking, and these shared moments left a lasting impression on him.
"Haruki, are you alright?" Kyouko's voice broke the silence, concern evident in her tone.
Startled, he snapped out of his trance, a mix of emotions crossing his face—embarrassment, desire, and guilt. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied, voice steady but eyes averted. "I should go upstairs."
Shaking off the thought, he hurried up the stairs, trying to suppress the growing desire that threatened to overwhelm him. The image of Kyouko's figure lingered in his mind, a secret longing he had to keep hidden.
As he climbed the stairs, he couldn't shake his thoughts of her. Kyouko's elegance and quiet confidence set her apart, making her appear almost timeless. Her inviting curves fascinated him—her breasts, her slender waist, and her firm, shapely buttocks painted a picture of beauty and youth.
In every way, she was perfect in Haruki's eyes. The more time he spent around her, the more he realized he couldn't view her like everyone else. There was an unspoken attraction, a magnetic pull he couldn't ignore, even if he knew he shouldn't.
Though he knew it was inappropriate, a part of him refused to stop feeling drawn to her. The thought of her beauty and gentleness left a mark on his heart.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Haruki took a deep breath, determined to shake off these feelings, at least for the night. But deep down, he knew that his attraction to Kyouko was something he couldn't easily forget.
Haruki stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. Sayaka was already asleep, curled up peacefully under the covers, her breathing steady. He watched her for a moment, debating whether to wake her. It wasn't just about intimacy; after the long days they both endured, he craved that closeness, a reminder that they were still connected despite their busy lives.
Taking a deep breath, he set aside his longing. Sayaka looked exhausted, and he didn't want to disturb her rest. With a quiet sigh, he slipped into bed beside her, pulling the blanket over them both. As he lay there, he reminded himself of the commitment they had made to each other.
Meanwhile, Kyouko quietly finished the dishes after they went upstairs. As she placed the last plate on the rack, the unmistakable rumble of a taxi pulling up outside caught her attention. Her heart sank slightly; it could only mean her husband was home—and judging by the noise, likely in one of his usual drunken states.
Rushing to the front door, she opened it just in time to see him stumbling out of the taxi, laughing loudly as he handed the driver some cash, his movements clumsy and exaggerated. Kyouko sighed, stepping forward to help him. Supporting his swaying frame, she guided him inside, his drunken laughter echoing through the quiet house. With each step, he felt heavier, and she struggled to keep him steady as they made their way to their bedroom.
Finally reaching the bed, she laid him down. His face was slack and flushed, muttering to himself as he quickly began to doze off. Kyouko stood over him, gazing down with a mixture of resignation and disappointment. This was her husband now—a man consumed by his vices, his care for her long forgotten. The gentle man she once knew seemed buried beneath layers of indifference and intoxication. She wondered when he last looked at her with any real affection or even acknowledged her presence.
With a tired sigh, she turned and left the room, heading down the hall to the bathroom. She washed her hands, splashing cool water on her face, trying to unwind from the strain of the evening. After relieving herself and washing her hands again, she took a deep breath, composing herself. The quiet solitude of the bathroom offered a brief moment of peace. Finally, she turned off the light and headed back to her own room.
Kyouko looked at her husband lying on the bed, a wave of disappointment washing over her. She went to the closet, took out a futon, and laid it out a bit farther from the bed. She had no desire to sleep beside a man who not only came home drunk but also no longer appreciated her.
Setting her pillow down, she lay on the futon, feeling the cool distance between them, allowing herself a moment to breathe away from the bitterness of her thoughts.
As Kyouko lay on the futon, staring at the ceiling, she began to wonder how much longer she could hold on to her marriage. Her husband's neglect felt like a hollow ache, deepening over the years. She was a woman with her own needs and desires, yet he seemed oblivious, never reaching for her or touching her as he once had. The simple intimacy she craved—a warm presence beside her, a lingering gaze, a gentle touch—felt like an impossible dream.
Her fingers traced patterns along the fabric of the futon as her thoughts drifted, leaving her feeling strangely empty. How long would she continue to be ignored? How long would her desires be brushed aside, her presence taken for granted? The answer eluded her, but the question lingered, filling the quiet room with a sense of longing she could no longer ignore.
Kyouko had never strayed from her marriage, even as the years chipped away at the passion she once shared with her husband. She knew that if she wanted to, she could easily have an affair. When she went out—whether for groceries or a walk in the neighborhood—young men often approached her, their eyes lingering with admiration or bold attempts to flirt. Kyouko was fully aware of her beauty; she looked younger than her actual age, and she could tell from the way younger men pursued her that they were interested in more than just conversation.
She understood their intentions—casual flings or one-night stands—but she didn't want to cheat. If she chose to, she wouldn't have to try hard; those men would be more than willing to spread her legs and have sex with her, enjoying her body. Yet, despite the temptation surrounding her, she remained faithful, clinging to her vows and the commitment she'd made. She still hoped that one day her husband might see her as he once did, might desire her as he once had.
But tonight, lying on the futon, the reality weighed heavily on her. She had sacrificed so much to remain loyal, to be the wife he needed, even if he never acknowledged her efforts.
(End of Chapter)