The wind howled through the sakura trees that night, petals tearing loose like silent screams. Rain lashed the tall windows of the Kurosawa estate, echoing across the marble halls like footsteps chasing ghosts.
Anika sat in the library, alone. Her fingers rested on a book she hadn't opened. She didn't need to. Her mind was too loud.
She couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't breathe in this place without feeling watched.
She was tired of being silent.
If she was going to live here... she had to know the man who caged her.
A sudden crash made her jump.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall, followed by muffled voices—angry, sharp. Then a glass shattered.
She followed the sound before she could stop herself.
The voices led her to a wide room—part office, part war zone. Broken glass glittered across the floor. A bottle of whiskey lay on its side, bleeding amber into an expensive rug. Papers were scattered. A dagger had been stabbed into the wood of the desk.
And behind it stood Rai Kurosawa.
Unbuttoned shirt. Blood on his knuckles. Breathing hard like a cornered beast.
He hadn't noticed her yet.
Anika should've walked away.
She didn't.
"What happened?" she asked, quietly.
He looked up, startled. A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt? No. It disappeared too fast.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
"You're bleeding."
"It's not mine."
A pause.
"You killed someone," she whispered.
He stared at her. The silence stretched.
"I signed a contract, not my soul," she said. "But every hour here feels like I'm losing both."
Rai moved toward her slowly, deliberately, like a shadow peeling from the wall.
"What do you want, Anika?"
"To understand," she said. "You made me your wife—fine. But I don't even know who you are."
He stopped a foot from her. The scent of rain and smoke clung to him.
"I'm not a good man."
"I figured."
His jaw clenched. Then—unexpectedly—he stepped away.
"You want to know who I am?" he said bitterly. "Fine."
He walked to a drawer and tossed her a file.
Photos. Old ones. A boy in a bloodied school uniform. A burned building. A headline in Japanese: "Yakuza Massacre Leaves Orphaned Child."
"My father was shot in front of me," Rai said. "My mother disappeared. I was raised by wolves. Learned to kill before I learned to drive. That's who I am."
Anika's throat tightened.
"Then why bring me here? Why make me part of this?"
He didn't answer. He just looked at her with something raw in his eyes.
"Because you don't belong in this world. And that makes you… dangerous."
"To you?"
He didn't reply.
She stepped closer, eyes meeting his. "Are you afraid of me, Rai?"
He chuckled, low and bitter. "Afraid? No. But I can't afford softness. Not even from you."
"Then why haven't you broken me yet?"
He stared at her like she was a puzzle no bullet could solve.
Then, for just a second, his voice softened.
"Because you keep looking at me like I could still be saved."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Thunder rumbled overhead. The lights flickered.
He turned away.
"Go back to your room."
"Rai—"
He cut her off, his voice cold again.
"Go. Before I remind you this marriage wasn't meant to have conversations."
She walked out without another word.
But as the door closed, she realized something.
She had just seen it—the storm behind his eyes. And once you see a storm, you never forget the thunder.