Years passed, but Sakura Hoshino's love never dulled—it only deepened, like aged wine with a dangerous edge. Her obsession, once wrapped in secrecy, had become a fierce and open devotion. Everyone in the business world knew: mess with Ren, and face the wrath of the Empress of Hoshino Group.
They had two children—a boy with Ren's calm eyes and a girl with Sakura's intense gaze. She adored them, but made it clear: "Daddy is Mommy's first love." Their daughter once joked, "Mama loves Daddy more than us!" Sakura had only smiled. "That's true. But I love you second most in the world."
Ren, ever steady, balanced her fire with peace. He wrote books. Taught lectures. Spoke at universities about business, resilience—and how love, even obsessive love, can be healing if it's nurtured with truth.
Every anniversary, Sakura gifted him something symbolic: the first year, a framed paper crane; the third, the deed to the house where they first kissed; the tenth, a locket with a tracking chip—"Just in case you ever get lost," she teased.
In private, her obsession hadn't faded. She still checked his texts sometimes. Still had security watching his routes. Still burned inside at the thought of anyone else laying eyes on him too long. But now, Ren knew. And he accepted it.
Because hers wasn't a love born of weakness. It was a love that built empires.
And as they stood on the balcony of their seaside villa one evening, Sakura resting her head on his shoulder, she whispered, "Even in the next life, you're mine."
And Ren, smiling, whispered back, "Always yours."
The End.