Kijo's grip didn't loosen, even as Mimi's tears soaked through her shirt.
They stood there in the doorway, wrapped in each other like the world outside had gone silent. For the first time, Kijo wasn't stiff, or guarded, or frozen with fear. She was simply there. Holding. Breathing. Feeling.
After what felt like forever, Mimi pulled back slightly.
Her eyes were still glistening, but her expression had softened — confused, but vulnerable. "Why now?"
Kijo looked down at her. "Because I finally realized what I lost. What I was about to lose."
Mimi sniffled. "You didn't even come to the bedroom that night. After the wedding."
"I wanted to." Kijo's jaw clenched. "I stood outside the door for hours. But you were so happy that day. Glowing. And I was scared I'd ruin it. Scared I'd ruin you."
Mimi looked away, her voice barely a whisper. "You already did."
"I know."
Silence hung between them again — heavy and raw. But this time, it wasn't cold. It wasn't empty.
It was full of everything unspoken.
Kijo gently tucked a loose strand of Mimi's hair behind her ear, fingers lingering near her cheek. "Let me take you home."
Mimi hesitated. "To what? That apartment doesn't feel like mine anymore."
"Then I'll change that," Kijo said. "Whatever it takes."
Mimi's lips parted slightly, as if unsure what to say. But Kijo didn't give her time to disappear again.
"I missed our wedding night, Mimi," she said, her voice deeper now, more certain. "I missed the chance to hold you like a wife. To show you what you mean to me — not just in words."
Mimi's heart thudded.
Kijo's hand gently found hers. "Let me take you home. Tonight."
A pause.
"Let me have you tonight."
Mimi's cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
Kijo stepped even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Not because we're married. Not because I owe you anything. But because I want to. Because I've never wanted anything more than you."
Mimi looked up at her — trembling, still uncertain.
But this time...
She didn't say no.
She nodded, slowly.
Kijo took her hand and laced their fingers together, then turned toward the elevator with her beside her.
And this time, when the doors closed behind them—
It wasn't goodbye.
It was the beginning. The drive home was quiet—but charged.
Mimi sat in the passenger seat, fingers knotted in her lap, her cheeks still flushed from what Kijo had said. From what she meant.
The city lights passed in streaks of gold and silver, but Mimi barely noticed them. Not when Kijo's hand rested firmly on her thigh the entire ride—warm, possessive, steady.
She didn't say anything, and neither did Kijo.
But the weight of her touch said enough.
Her thumb moved slowly, tracing delicate circles against the soft inside of Mimi's leg, just above the knee. Mimi's breath hitched every time Kijo's fingers flexed or slid just a little higher, teasing, lingering.
By the time they reached the building, Mimi could hardly meet her eyes.
Kijo parked and turned to her, not letting go of her thigh. "Come."
Mimi nodded, legs feeling like jelly as she followed her out of the car, up the elevator, through the familiar hallway that suddenly felt unfamiliar again.
She paused at the door.
Kijo looked back. "You okay?"
Mimi nodded again, voice soft. "Yeah."
The apartment looked the same. Cold. Minimal. Untouched.
But it didn't feel the same.
Not when Kijo walked behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her lips gently to her shoulder. "We'll make it warm again."
And then—
Without another word, Kijo scooped her up into her arms.
Mimi gasped, her hands flying to Kijo's shoulders. "Kijo—!"
"I told you," Kijo murmured, her voice low and dark. "I missed our wedding night."
Mimi buried her face into Kijo's neck, her cheeks burning.
Step by step, Kijo carried her through the apartment like she weighed nothing—like she was everything.
She pushed the bedroom door open with her foot.
Set Mimi down slowly on the edge of the bed.
Then leaned down until their faces were inches apart.
"No more running."
Mimi looked up at her, heart pounding, lips parted.
And Kijo smiled—just barely, but real.
"Tonight," she whispered, "I show you what being mine really means."