Haru flipped through the shared calendar on his phone, noting Aiko's upcoming weekend with Ichigo. It was Friday evening, the apartment buzzing with pre-bedtime energy. Ichigo was in his pajamas, chasing Chris around with a foam sword, shrieking with laughter. Chris played the dramatic villain, stumbling defeated every time the little knight poked him.
Haru watched from the kitchen doorway, soft smile tugging at his lips. These moments—simple, chaotic, full—were gold. Therapy had taught him to savor them, not just power through.
Chris finally surrendered, collapsing on the rug. Ichigo pounced for victory cuddles. Haru scooped the tired kid up. "Bedtime, champion. One story, then lights out."
Chris followed to tuck in, both reading alternate pages of the dinosaur adventure book. Ichigo's eyes drooped fast, tiny hand holding Chris's finger till sleep won.
Back in the living room, Chris poured wine—cheap red, but perfect. "To surviving another week," he toasted, clinking Haru's glass.
Haru sipped, leaning back. "Aiko texted earlier. Wants to meet for coffee tomorrow—just us. Talk more about her therapy stuff."
Chris nodded, no jealousy flicker. "Cool. She's been opening up a lot."
"Yeah... session this week, Ms. Tanaka asked how co-parenting's going. Told her smooth. Aiko's changes help."
Chris curled closer on the couch. "She's come far. Spill what you know—I wanna understand her better too. For Ichigo."
Haru set his glass down, arm around Chris. "Started after the divorce wrecked her. Moved cities, new job, but guilt crushed her. Panic attacks at night, crying in grocery stores—random triggers. Hit bottom six months in: couldn't get out of bed. Friend dragged her to a therapist."
Chris listened, hazel eyes attentive.
"First sessions were rough. Counselor made her face the affair head-on—why she sought escape instead of talking. Avoidant attachment from childhood: parents emotionally distant, praised achievement over feelings. Learned to bottle stuff till it exploded. Therapy unpacked that—weekly talks, homework like journaling regrets, practicing vulnerability."
Haru paused. "Tried meds for anxiety—worked some. Group therapy for divorced women helped most—hearing others' stories, not feeling alone. Learned tools: breathing for panic, 'I feel' statements, boundaries. One exercise: writing letters to past self, forgiving mistakes."
Chris whistled low. "Deep stuff."
"Yeah. Big breakthrough: owning she abandoned Ichigo too, not just me. Cried buckets. Now works on consistency—calls regular, shows up prepared. Mindfulness app daily, yoga for stress. Even quit toxic friends who enabled the affair era."
Chris's smile was genuine. "Sounds like real change. Proud of her, from afar."
Haru pulled him closer. "Me too. Makes co-parenting easier. Ichigo's thriving."
The mood shifted—admiration turning intimate. Chris set glasses aside, straddling Haru's lap. "You're amazing with this. Open heart now."
Haru cupped his face, thumb tracing jaw. "Therapy helped. But you? You make it easy."
Lips met slow, savoring—tongues brushing gentle, building heat. Chris sighed into it, fingers threading Haru's black hair, tugging light. Haru's hands slid under Chris's tee, palms warm on back, tracing spine till Chris shivered.
Shirts peeled off—Chris's lifted slow, Haru's yanked away. Skin met hot, medium build pressing slim one. Mouths wandered: Haru kissing neck, nipping collarbone soft, leaving faint blooms. Chris arched, breath hitching, grinding down instinctive.
Pants undone, pushed away impatient. Bare now, sweat-slick warmth. Bodies aligned—Haru's hand wrapping firm, stroking rhythm with rolls. Chris bucked, moans breathy, legs wrapping tighter. Haru's free hand traced thigh, guiding deeper friction.
Pleasure coiled intense—eyes locked, hazel burning, brown full love. Whispers: "So good," Chris gasped; "All yours," Haru murmured husky.
Climax shared—Chris tensing beautiful, release crashing muffled against Haru's shoulder. Haru followed, shuddering hard, waves deep.
Tangled after, breaths evening. Chris smiled lazy. "Healing looks good on you."
Haru kissed temple. "On us."
They showered playful—kisses under water, hands gentle. Dressed cozy, shared bed quiet. Morning routine: pancakes, Ichigo's giggles, coffee meet with Aiko.
Haru listened as she elaborated more—therapy wins, setbacks, hopes for Ichigo. Progress real.
Evening brought family normal—park, dinner, stories. As Ichigo slept, Haru and Chris curled up.
"Aiko's journey inspires me," Chris said. "Maybe therapy for my debt stress."
Haru squeezed hand. "We'll book it. Together."
Healing threads wove tighter—pasts mending, future bright.