Several weeks have passed since Yuna learns Ryusei might have been unfaithful.
She still hasn't responded to the message Hiroki sends her twelve days ago: "Do you believe me?"
Yuna pretends nothing has happened, continuing to live inside the illusion she crafts for herself. Ryusei, recently, becomes noticeably more considerate. He no longer comes home late from work; by six o'clock sharp, he's back for dinner with Yuna. He embraces her more often, brings her flowers and gifts for no particular reason.
What unnerves her the most, however, is that he remembers their third wedding anniversary.
He keeps bringing it up. Sometimes, he attempts to get close—planting soft, stolen kisses behind her ear when she lets her guard down. Even when she rejects him, he doesn't stop.
It's not that she turns him away completely—she's just too tired to keep pretending nothing is wrong.
But then, at midnight on the eve of their anniversary, Yuna receives a message from Hiroki—no words, just a batch of chilling photos.
Blurry, grainy images taken from a car show a man and a woman entering and later leaving a luxury hotel together. Hiroki says nothing, but he doesn't need to.
Yuna immediately recognizes the couple. Ryusei... and the woman from the letter. It's Irumi.
Yuna collapses onto the floor. Her fingers tremble as she frantically taps at her phone—and accidentally deletes the message.
The only evidence she has—gone.
She sits there, expressionless, empty.
In the days that follow, despair grows inside her like a weed, and she starts to doubt herself. Outwardly, she and Ryusei maintain their image as a happy, affectionate couple. Letting anyone know they're having problems—especially given Ryusei's position—is out of the question.
Coming home to elaborate dinners Ryusei prepares only numbs her more. He still has the nerve to smile, to ask her how her day has been.
When she thinks about the man who once yelled cruel words and slapped her across the face, it makes her stomach turn.
Is he truly trying to make amends—or is this all an act?
If he really wants to fix things, why won't he just admit the truth?
Why weave this ridiculous performance that hurts them both?
She begins insisting on taking the train alone to work. He agrees, but not without pulling her into a hug and stealing a goodbye kiss before letting her go.
And in that moment, what disgusts her isn't him—but her own fragile self.
At the office, Ryusei's texts keep pouring in—sweet, tender messages that once might have meant something. Now, they're just noise.
She's grown used to short, perfunctory messages.
Grown used to his absence.
Grown used to his careless teasing.
But the most terrifying person is her boss, Takano. She notices everything—how Yuna toys with her wedding ring absentmindedly, how she spaces out more often than usual, how she goes through more tissues than normal.
Takano's overanalyzing sometimes hits too close to home.
"You and Ryusei... this isn't just some little tiff, is it? You two are having a major issue, aren't you?" she says bluntly.
That only deepens Yuna's exhaustion. She doesn't answer, simply letting Takano drag her out for drinks after work.
Hearing about their anniversary, Takano generously offers to take Yuna shopping with Ririka. They pick out lingerie and dresses, saying it's the perfect opportunity to rekindle the couple's bond.
Delicate white lace, crimson silk, lavender satin—off-shoulder, strapless, body-hugging... All the outfits feel jarringly bright compared to Yuna's lifeless expression as she stands before the mirror.
Her collarbones jut out; her elbows and knees look sharper than ever.
Takano and Ririka click their tongues in disapproval but don't press.
Instead, they hand her the clothes, gently encouraging her.
On the day of the anniversary, Yuna can't hold it in anymore. She picks up the office landline and dials a number she hasn't called in a long time.
The moment she hears her mother's voice, she wants to cry. She bites her lip hard, forcing herself not to break.
Hand clenched around the receiver, she presses the phone close.
"Mom?"
"Yuna?"
Her mother's calm voice echoes back. In the background, Yuna hears the distant hum of harvesting machines from their family's tea fields—her father out among the tea plants, her sisters probably preparing lunch, her little brother at school.
"How's everything been?" her mother asks gently.
Yuna swallows hard. "I'm okay... I just miss you, that's all."
"You silly girl," her mother chides, not unkindly. "Oh, that's right—your wedding anniversary is coming up, isn't it? Have you two planned anything?"
Yuna freezes. Aside from the clothes, she hasn't done anything. Ryusei arranges it all. Even the dress isn't her own choice.
She shoves down the truth and forces herself into character.
"Yeah, we've got it all set. It's not a big deal this year, so don't worry about it too much."
There's a long pause on the other end. Yuna's heart pounds. As a woman, her mother will pick up on the unease eventually—it's just a matter of time.
"Are you and Ryusei... really okay?"
"Y-yes, of course we are," Yuna replies, too quickly.
"You sure about that?"
"Definitely, Mom. Today's our special day, remember?"
"Good," her mother says, sounding pleased. "Just remember, your father and I want your marriage to be happy. Don't let it fall apart. Ryusei is Takahashi Ryusei, after all. The Takahashi company—"
"I understand... Thank you, Mom. Really."
Yuna hangs up.
The call does little to ease her mind. Just more expectations. More lectures.
Alright, smile. You can do this, she tells herself, heading back to her desk. She pulls the corners of her lips up with both hands.
And that's when she notices—Hiroki's desk is still empty. Three days now. Not a word from him. But then again, how could he? She hasn't even had the courage to answer his one simple question.
She can only hope he'll give her more time. She still has too many fears to face.
Yuna boards the train home, silently counting down the seconds until she arrives.
It's been a long, exhausting day. The evening wind howls through the trees, whispering winter's chill into every crevice. As soon as she steps through the front door, Yuna freezes.
The living room is aglow with candlelight. Crimson rose petals scatter across the floor and dining table, casting a romantic, almost surreal aura around the space.
Ryusei stands in the middle of the room, holding a large bouquet of roses. His face lights up with the giddy expression of someone who's just pulled off a sweet surprise. Smiling, he steps forward.
"Welcome home. Happy third anniversary," he says warmly, eyes fixed on her with hopeful expectation.
Yuna presses her lips together and gives a small nod in response.
Ryusei leads her to the dining area. A beautifully arranged table awaits—white porcelain plates, tall crystal wine glasses, and two flickering candles in the center. A freshly cooked steak with roasted vegetables sits before her, its aroma thick in the air. He pulls out her chair with a gentlemanly flourish.
They begin dinner. Ryusei serves her enthusiastically, sharing stories about the day he spends preparing everything. He talks about scouring the city to find her favorite wine and how he trims every stem of the bouquet himself. The food is homemade too—steak, his signature dish. Yet despite all the effort, Yuna finds herself barely tasting it.
He offers her a forkful of beef. She hesitates but leans in to take it.
"So? Still as good as before?" he asks, carving another piece.
Yuna chews and nods vaguely. But when she meets his gaze—so full of anticipation—her scalp prickles. She dabs her mouth with a napkin and stares at her plate.
"It's a bit bland," she says calmly.
Ryusei pauses. Tonight is supposed to be special, yet Yuna's enthusiasm is nowhere to be found.
Normally, she rarely comments bluntly on her husband's cooking. Salty, bitter, spicy, or sweet—she always quietly eats it without complaint. It's her way of acknowledging and appreciating his effort. In truth, Yuna's cooking skills far surpass Ryusei's, and she always adjusts her dishes to suit his preferences, memorizing everything he likes.
But tonight, she simply says it: bland. She has no energy left to pretend.
He lets out an awkward chuckle and samples the meat himself.
"Tastes the same to me. Maybe you're just... feeling different today? Or your palate's changed?"
She takes a sip of wine, expression unreadable. "Yeah. Maybe that's it."
After dinner, Ryusei hugs her from behind. His arms wrap tightly around her waist as he whispers about their wedding day, their cozy dates, how they decorate this little home together. He even laughs softly about their arguments and the silly things he's done to win her back.
When he leans down to kiss her temple, Yuna closes her eyes. The intimacy feels distant now.
His breath trails under her jaw, then his lips gently brush her neck. He moves slowly, leaving delicate marks across her skin, as if imprinting his presence.
Without warning, he turns her around and lifts her onto the cool marble counter. The chill of the surface startles her, but before she can react, his eyes lock onto hers—intense and unrelenting.
"You've lost weight... Yuna," he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm against her cheek. She can feel the tension in his body.
She looks away, silent. But he doesn't let her turn. His fingers gently lift her chin.
"Look at me," he commands softly, firmly. He kisses her neck again, this time with more hunger, like trying to reignite something that has long gone out.
Yuna shuts her eyes, suppressing any sign of resistance.
◇◇◇
"Hello, Hiroki? Haven't seen you at work lately," comes Takano's voice through the receiver. Hiroki slumps on the couch, tissue stuffed in his nose.
His voice is raspy. "I've had a bit of a fever... I told the manager directly."
"Yuna's been worried, you know."
"She—" he stops, then continues, "How is she?"
"Today's their wedding anniversary, didn't you know?"
The words hit him like a brick. He jolts upright—blood drips down to his lips. He reaches up to wipe it, his fingertips coming away red. His hand trembles uncontrollably.
◇◇◇
Yuna grips the edge of the kitchen counter, her knuckles pale from the effort to stay balanced. Her body trembles, teeth clenched. His mouth crashes down on hers, stealing her breath. She doesn't move, her arms limp at her sides, letting him part her lips without resistance.
His hands travel lower, touching the places that once hold meaning between them—as if trying to resurrect memories long buried.
His lips trail down her neck, leaving faint traces behind, his heavy breathing betraying a hunger he no longer bothers to hide.
When his fingers brush the hem of her top, he pauses—eyes burning with wordless question. But before she can even react, he's lifting it off her.
Her clothes slip one by one to the floor, revealing a black satin dress—slim-fitting, delicate—the one Ririka and Takano tell her to wear for tonight.
His hand slides along her thigh, thumb stroking the inside gently. His throat bobs as he whispers against her skin, "You wore this for me, didn't you?"
She doesn't answer. Her eyes are empty, staring into nothing.
The sound of his belt buckle echoes in the room. His breath thickens, hot against her ear—consuming.
Spinning. Drowning. Lost.
And then, from somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she hears it. Footsteps. Someone running.
Desperate. Uncertain. Like her.
And before she knows it, her voice breaks through the haze—
"You're cheating on me... aren't you?"
He freezes. His hand stops mid-motion, resting on the softness of her skin. His eyes darken, locking onto her like he can pierce through the ice in her voice.
"You really think that?" His voice is low and hoarse, but calm—like the hush before a storm. His hand doesn't move away. It grips tighter.
Yuna stares straight ahead. Hollow. Unmoving. The imagined footsteps pound louder, like a drumbeat in her chest, dragging every buried weight to the surface. They're coming closer.
She lets out a bitter laugh. "With Hayame Irumi?"
Ryusei goes still.
The look on his face says everything.
Gone is the passion. Gone is the warmth. All that remains is a fire too wild to be called love.
"Who told you?"
"In Tokyo," she says. "When you were on that business trip."
His eyes widen. Fury and fear crack his expression wide open.
Then he snaps. With no warning, he forces her body around and slams her front down against the marble counter. The breath leaves her lungs as her chest strikes the hard surface.
She doesn't fight back. Pain shoots through her ribs and spine, but she stays still.
The vision of that someone—whoever has been running—flickers again in her mind. Drawing closer. But cloaked in fog. Maybe it's just despair. Maybe something darker.
She shuts her eyes. The phantom footsteps stop.
"You shouldn't have ruined our perfect moment like this, Yuna," Ryusei growls, pressing himself hard against her back. "I did everything your way... and you still don't understand."
"Yuna…You never understood me at all..."
Her breath trembled, eyes glazing over. Ryusei grips her from behind.
His hold unyielding, not out of affection, but a twisted desperation to possess.
There has been no tenderness. No love.
Pain wracks her body as if every movement tore her from the inside. She stares at her limp hand, lying palm up. Why resist? she thinks. He is her husband, after all.
She lay there, waiting for it to end.
His arms hold her tight, as he whispers her name like a plea, his voice cracking beside her ear.
"Yuna... are you okay...?"
"Yuna... does it hurt...?"
"Yuna... please..."
He slowly pulls back, helpless. Her body slides off the counter and crumples to the floor, spasming slightly before going limp.
....
"Excuse me. What happened here?"
Ryusei cracks the door open, his face taut with unease. He replies coldly, "Nothing. If it got too loud, I apo—"
A fist smashes across his jaw, sending him stumbling back. He catches himself, squinting to see who just struck him.
The man tosses off his coat hood.
It's Hiroki.
"Mamoru?! Are you insane?!" Ryusei growls, wiping blood from his mouth. But Hiroki says nothing.
He pushes past him into the room.
Punches and kicks fly. Neither backs down. The room erupts in chaos—furniture crashing, breathless grunts, heavy thuds.
Then Hiroki spots her—Yuna, pale and still, lying on the floor.
Ryusei takes the opening and drives a brutal kick into Hiroki's side, slamming him into the wall. Ryusei is stronger. A predator, vicious. He advances, merciless.
Hiroki grabs a wooden chair, wincing through the pain. He hurls it with all his strength.
It crashes into Ryusei's shoulder, sending him sprawling.
Hiroki doesn't hesitate. He pounces, fists raining down. "You think you can hurt her and walk away?!" he roars, his voice hoarse with fury.
Blood from Ryusei's nose splatters across Hiroki's knuckles. Still, he keeps swinging. Blow after blow, until only Yuna's image in his mind makes him stop.
Ryusei chuckles darkly, his breath ragged. "So what? Think you changed anything?"
He spits blood onto Hiroki's chest. "You were listening, weren't you? Outside? Doesn't matter now. It's too late."
Hiroki's rage surges again. He raises his fist—but Ryusei's voice cuts through.
"You came here for her, huh? Thought she'd run to you? You idiot. She's mine. Always has been. Only ever trusted me. You saw it yourself."
"You'll pay for everything!" Hiroki shouts, grabbing Ryusei by the collar and hauling him up. "You've hurt her enough!"
Ryusei smirks, his lips cracked and bruised. "You don't get to—"
"Shut up!" Hiroki snarls, slamming him back down.
Ryusei lies there, eyes narrowed. Then he slowly turns his head to glance at Hiroki through the corner of his eye, still sneering.
Ignoring him, Hiroki rushes to Yuna.
Her face is ghostly, drained of all life. His heart twists painfully.
He bends down, voice trembling. "Yuna... I'm here."
He lifts her gently. Behind him, Ryusei croaks from the floor, "Hiroki... Stop... She's not yours..."
But Hiroki doesn't listen. He carries her through the door, out of the darkness. She lies in his arms like a broken doll—limp and silent. He holds her tighter, afraid she might slip away completely.
"It's okay now, Yuna... It's okay," he whispers, trying to convince her—trying to convince himself.
But he knows. What happens tonight will scar her forever.
Yuna stirs faintly, but her eyes never focus. She doesn't speak. Hiroki swallows back a sob.
Ryusei—the man he can never forgive.
But first, he needs to get her to safety.
He's taking her home. To his home…