Office lunches were rare at Asterion Insurance Group.
Not because the company was small , it wasn't.
And definitely not because they were stingy , they loved money, and money loved them back.
Office lunches only happened when something BIG occurred.
A huge contract.
A major promotion.
Or, in today's case… a massive sponsor signing off on a brand-new desk office project.
So the entire staff was gathered in the open lounge area, long tables pushed together, food laid out neatly, laughter buzzing through the air.
Typing had stopped.
Phones were ignored.
Gossip engines were fully activated.
Unfortunately for Emiko Fujiwara…
She was the main course.
"Fujiwara-san! Congratulations again!"
"When did you get married?"
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?"
"Was it a love marriage or an arranged one?"
"Is he handsome?"
"Is he tall?"
"Does he work in finance?"
"WAIT—do you have WEDDING PHOTOS?"
Emiko sat stiffly in her chair, smiling so hard her cheeks were starting to hurt.
"Hahaha… thank you… thank you so much," she said, nodding politely, lifting her left hand *just enough* for the silver ring to catch the light again.
The room collectively gasped for the fifth time in ten minutes.
"Oh my God, it's real."
"She really hid it this well?"
"Fujiwara-san is full of surprises."
"Ah—well," Emiko laughed nervously, waving her chopsticks, "it was very… private. We're simple people."
"How romantic!" an older woman sighed. "Men like that don't exist anymore."
"Oh, they do," Emiko replied too quickly. "Mine does. He exists very… loudly."
Someone frowned. "Loudly?"
"I mean—lovingly," Emiko corrected. "He loves… loudly. Emotionally loud. Very expressive. Very… man."
People nodded like this made perfect sense.
"What does he do?" a younger colleague asked eagerly.
Emiko froze for half a second.
"He… works," she said confidently.
"…Where?"
"Outside."
"…Outside?"
"Yes. Outdoors. Very… outside-based."
The table hummed in approval.
"So mysterious!"
"No wonder she kept him hidden."
Emiko laughed again, sweat forming at her temple.
Across the table, Haruto Ishikawa sat silently.
No teasing.
No small smile.
No gentle jokes thrown her way.
He stared at his food like it had personally betrayed him.
Emiko noticed immediately.
She tried to catch his eye , just once.
When she did, he looked away.
Her chest tightened.
"Fujiwara-san," he said suddenly, voice calm but distant, "would you like more tea?"
Her heart dropped.
He didn't say *Emiko*.
"Ah—yes. Thank you," she replied softly.
He poured it carefully, politely. No lingering. No warmth. No familiarity.
Just respect.
Painfully respectful.
Someone leaned closer to her. "So, Fujiwara-san, does your husband get jealous?"
"Oh—very," Emiko blurted. "Extremely jealous. Terribly. He once got jealous of a vending machine."
A beat.
"…Because it gives me drinks," she added.
Everyone laughed.
Haruto didn't.
Every time their eyes met, he turned away.
Every time someone mentioned "husband," his jaw tightened just a little.
*I messed up,* Emiko realized, stomach sinking.
She had wanted peace.
She had wanted silence.
Instead, she had created distance.
Suddenly, two younger female coworkers stood up.
"Bathroom break?" one whispered.
"Yeah. I need to talk," the other replied, glancing back at Emiko.
Emiko narrowed her eyes.
*Suspicious.*
Very suspicious.
They walked off together, heads close, whispering animatedly.
Emiko's brain immediately went into dramatic mode.
*They're talking about me.*
*About the ring.*
*About my fake husband.*
*They know.*
*They KNOW.*
She stood up abruptly.
"Oh—excuse me," she said quickly, grabbing her bag.
Haruto looked up, surprised.
"Fujiwara-san?"
"I'll be right back," she said, already walking away.
She followed the two women toward the hallway, heart pounding like she was on a secret mission.
*Operation: Eavesdrop Or Die Trying,* she thought grimly.
And with that, Emiko Fujiwara disappeared down the corridor, wedding ring gleaming, lies intact, and nerves absolutely shredded.
.......
Emiko followed the two younger women like a detective in a low-budget drama.
She stopped right outside the bathroom door, pressing herself flat against the wall, heart pounding like she was about to uncover a national secret.
Inside, voices echoed clearly.
"I swear," one of the girls said, clicking her tongue. "Did you see Ishikawa-san today? He looked… crushed."
The other sighed dramatically. "Of course he did. He liked her. Like—since she first started working here."
Emiko's breath hitched.
Liked… me?
"I still don't get it," the first girl continued. "Why would he even like someone like Fujiwara-san? She's nice, sure, but she's always tired and clumsy and—"
"And now she's married," the second girl cut in. "Which means we finally have a chance."
A pause.
"At least now," she added lightly, "there's no feelings in the way. Ishikawa-san respects women too much to cross boundaries. Especially with a married woman."
The words hit Emiko like a truck.
No—!! Like a truck reversing and hitting her again.
*He liked me.*
*Liked me.*
Past tense.
Her brain short-circuited.
Her chest tightened. Her palms went cold.
*I ruined it.*
*I actually ruined my one chance at real love over OFFICE GOSSIP*.
Inside the bathroom, the mood suddenly shifted.
"Anyway," the first girl said, instantly changing topics, "did you see the foundation Yuki was wearing today? It was at least three shades too warm."
"Oh my God, yes," the other laughed. "And that lip gloss? So sticky. Like she dipped her mouth in syrup."
They burst into giggles, completely unbothered by the emotional damage they had just caused.
Emiko slowly stepped away from the wall, soul crushed, dignity leaking out of her pores.
She walked back to the table like someone returning from war.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Haruto's silence.
The distance.
Why he only said Fujiwara-san now.
She sat down quietly.
Almost immediately, someone leaned in.
"So, Fujiwara-san," an older coworker asked, voice sharp, eyes narrowed just a little, "what's your last name now?"
Another added, tilting her head, "Yes… you're married. You should have one."
A murmur spread across the table.
"That's true."
"Married women usually change it."
"Unless she didn't?"
"Why wouldn't she?"
Emiko froze.
Her last name.
Oh God.
She laughed nervously. "Ah—well… you see…"
Her brain scrambled like an egg dropped on hot asphalt.
"I—uh—professionally, I kept my maiden name."
A pause.
"…Professionally?" someone repeated slowly.
"Yes," she said quickly, nodding too much. "For work. Identity. Branding. You know… career women things."
Another pause.
Then someone shrugged. "That's modern."
"Very modern," another agreed.
"I heard women do that now," a third added confidently, having absolutely no source.
"Yes, yes," someone else said. "Marriage is complicated."
Emiko lifted her hand slightly. "But personally—married."
She flashed the ring.
Like magic, the tension evaporated.
"Ohhh."
"That explains it."
"Of course."
"Why didn't we think of that?"
Hypnosis Complete.
Haruto, however, didn't even look her way.
Not once.
He sat stiffly, eyes focused anywhere but her, as if even glancing would be disrespectful.
It hurts, he thought.
So why am I still looking away?
At the corner of the table, a woman with long jet-black hair and heavy bangs watched silently.
Her name was Mika Kurosawa.
Her expression was unreadable. Almost sad. Almost tired.
Suddenly, a younger male coworker bounced over.
"FUJIWARA-SAN!" he shouted happily.
His name was **Ren Takahashi**, twenty-four, loud, and way too excited about life.
He popped a bottle of champagne. "Congratulations on your marriage!"
Cheers erupted.
"Marriage!"
"Cheers!"
"So fast!"
Emiko barely noticed.
Her attention was fixed on Haruto.
The distance felt like someone was slowly sawing her heart in half.
She didn't even realize she was holding a knife from her plate dangerously close to her jaw until someone gasped.
"Fujiwara-san!"
She blinked. "Ah—sorry! Family responsibilities," she said automatically, like it was a reflex.
Everyone nodded immediately.
"Oh yes."
"Family is stressful."
"Marriage changes people."
"Responsibilities everywhere."
No one questioned it.
Because blaming everything on family was easier than thinking.
After the food settled and alcohol flowed, someone clapped loudly.
"Truth or dare!"
Groans. Cheers. Applause.
"Perfect!"
"We're already drunk!"
Then suddenly, a woman stood up.
She was beautiful. Tall. Confident. Already drunk.
Her name was Ayane Shimizu.
"I don't believe it," Ayane slurred slightly. "None of it."
The room quieted.
Emiko's heart dropped.
"You don't just wake up one day and claim you're married," Ayane continued. "Anyone can wear a ring and walk into work."
*No no no no no*, Emiko panicked internally.
She forced a laugh. "Why would I lie?"
Ayane scoffed. "Why were you hiding it then?"
Emiko smiled, calm on the outside, dying on the inside. "Privacy."
"But yesterday—"
"Ring," Emiko said simply, lifting her hand.
Everyone nodded again.
Ayane frowned, irritated. "See?" she said, slipping a ring onto her own finger. "Now I'm married too."
Silence.
Then—
"Why are you attacking her?"
"She's been bullied enough for being single."
"This is so insensitive."
"Focus on your husband and child, Ayane."
Emiko couldn't believe her ears *The hypocrisy*
Ren jumped in, pointing dramatically. "Yeah! Leave Fujiwara-san alone!"
Ayane stared around, stunned, as if she had accidentally entered the Twilight Zone.
Haruto returned with a large tray of food just then.
Before he arrived, Ayane stood frozen in place.
She looked around the table slowly, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
"…You people can't be serious," she said, laughing once, incredulous. "You actually believe this?"
No one laughed with her.
Instead, she was met with frowns.
Judging looks.
Disappointed sighs.
"Why are you being so bitter?" someone muttered.
"This is why married women mind their business," another added.
Ayane's face twisted in disbelief. "All I did was—"
Haruto stepped in at that moment, setting the tray down carefully.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly.
Ayane's eyes lit up like she'd finally found a witness.
"Ishikawa-san—" she started quickly, turning toward him. "You don't actually believe—"
"TRUTH OR DARE!"
Emiko suddenly shouted, far too loudly.
The room startled.
Several people cheered immediately.
"YES!"
"Truth or dare!"
"Perfect timing!"
Ayane blinked.
"What—no, wait—" she tried again, but her voice was drowned out.
Haruto glanced at Emiko.
The look in his eyes wasn't angry.
It was hurt.
Betrayed.
Emiko swallowed hard, guilt pooling in her chest, but she forced a bright smile, clapping her hands once.
"Let's play!" she said quickly. "It'll be fun."
Ayane stared at her, stunned into silence.
At the corner of the table, Mika Kurosawa watched silently.
Waiting.
For the game to begin.
----
They decided on the rules immediately.
"Okay!" someone announced, clapping. "Truth or Dare."
"And if you refuse," another added way too eagerly, "you drink seven full cups of alcohol."
"SEVEN?" someone gasped.
"And," Ren chimed in proudly, "you pay for the bottle you drank from."
Groans filled the room.
"That's extortion."
"This is workplace harassment."
"I love it."
They spun the bottle.
It landed on a coworker who instantly covered her face.
"Oh no, oh no, please—"
"TRUTH," everyone yelled.
She squirmed. "Okay, okay! Fine! I once pretended to be sick just to avoid a family dinner."
Laughter exploded.
"Valid!"
"Relatable!"
"Same!"
The game continued.
Embarrassing truths. Silly dares. Loud laughter.
Then—
The bottle spun again.
Slower this time.
Click. Click.
It stopped.
Pointing directly at Emiko.
The room erupted.
"OHHHH!"
"FUJIWARA-SAN!"
"TRUTH OR DARE?"
Emiko froze.
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
Haruto was the one who had spun the bottle.
She swallowed and opened her mouth—
"I'll pass."
Everyone blinked.
Haruto stood up slightly, calm but firm.
"I don't ask married women invasive or harassing questions," he said evenly. "Even in the name of games."
Silence.
Emiko felt like she'd been punched in the chest.
Married woman.
The words crushed her.
"Oh…" someone murmured. "Respectful."
Haruto sat back down, eyes already turned away.
Emiko stared at the table, humiliated and strangely hurt.
Then Ren popped up like a hyperactive replacement.
"I'LL GO!" he announced. "I have questions!"
The bottle was still pointed at her.
"Fujiwara-san," Ren said cheerfully, leaning in. "How did you and your husband meet?"
Emiko immediately spit out her drink.
"WHAT—COUGH—"
Laughter burst out.
She wiped her mouth quickly. "Ah—well—fate."
"Fate?" Ren echoed. "Where?"
"…Outside."
"Outside where?"
"Outside… life."
Ren nodded seriously. "Was it love at first sight?"
"Yes."
"How long did you date?"
"Long."
"How long is long?"
"…Emotionally?"
People laughed.
Ren tilted his head. "So when did he propose?"
"After—life lessons."
"Like what?"
Emiko's eye twitched.
*Who the hell is this guy?*
Ren opened his mouth again "What-"
She grabbed a piece of crab and shoved it directly into his mouth.
"EAT," she said sweetly, smiling with a massive bead of sweat sliding down her temple.
----
The table roared.
Laughter bounced off the walls. Glasses clinked. Someone nearly choked on their drink.
The game moved on.
But the attention didn't leave her.
Compliments swarmed Emiko like flies the moment the tension broke.
"You're glowing!" someone said, squinting at her face like they were inspecting a product.
"Marriage suits you," another added approvingly. "I told you it would change you."
"You must be really happy," a woman sighed, resting her chin in her hand. "I can see it in your eyes."
"So blissful," someone else chimed in. "Look at her skin. That's married skin."
Married skin.
Emiko laughed.
A soft laugh.
A polite laugh.
The kind of laugh you give when you don't know what else to do.
"Haha… yes," she nodded, lifting her glass. "Very… blissful."
Inside, her brain was screaming.
*My skin is the same skin.*
*I slept five hours.*
*I cried yesterday.*
None of it made sense.
Not the compliments.
Not the sudden kindness.
Not how yesterday she was "running out of time" and today she was "goals."
She smiled anyway.
Across the table, Haruto noticed.
He noticed how her laughter came a second too late.
How her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
How she kept nodding like she was agreeing to something she didn't understand.
He frowned slightly.
Something felt off.
The Emiko he knew would've joked back.
Would've deflected.
Would've laughed for real.
Instead, she looked… trapped.
But he said nothing.
He just looked away again, jaw tightening, heart sinking quietly as the game continued around them.
He was too busy drowning in his own thoughts.
*When did she get married? *
*How did I miss it?*
*Was I not good enough?*
*Why didn't I ask her out sooner?*
After Truth or Dare, someone shouted, "NEVER HAVE I EVER!"
Emiko internally screamed.
They started light.
"Never have I ever skipped work for family responsibilities."
Everyone drank.
"Never have I ever lied to my parents."
More drinking.
Emiko struggled to relate.
Then Ayane smiled.
"Never have I ever lied about being married."
The room froze.
Emiko's blood ran cold.
Before anyone could react—
"CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING BESIDES MARRIAGE FOR ONCE?" Ren shouted dramatically.
Emiko exhaled in relief.
"Finally"
........
Emiko exhaled in relief the moment the lunch finally ended.
*Thank God*.
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. People stretched like they'd just survived a marathon they never signed up for.
"Ahhh, I'm full," someone groaned.
"I can't even walk."
"Marriage glow and free food? Life is unfair," another laughed, glancing at Emiko.
She smiled weakly, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead.
Night fell faster than she expected.
Outside the building, the air was cool, buzzing with after-work chatter.
On a normal day, a very normal, painfully normal day, Haruto would've stood beside her by now.
"Fujiwara-san, are you heading this way?"
"I can drop you off."
Tonight?
Nothing.
No pause.
No glance.
No quiet consideration.
Haruto walked straight past her.
Straight to his car.
Her heart dipped.
*Oh*.
He unlocked it.
Immediately—
"Wait! Ishikawa-san!"
"Can I get a ride?"
"Me too!"
"Oh my God, same direction!"
Younger, single coworkers piled in, laughing and thanking him.
Emiko stood there, blinking.
Then Ayane appeared.
"Ishikawa-san, is there space?" she asked casually.
Haruto nodded without hesitation. "Of course."
*Of course*.
Ayane slid into the car.
*Ayane*.
*Who was married*.
Emiko felt something crack.
She stood frozen on the pavement, clutching her bag like it might disappear too.
The engine started.
The car pulled away.
Dust kicked up dramatically, ridiculously dramatically, right into her face.
She coughed.
Once.
Twice.
"…Wow,"
........
Emiko finally arrived home, dragging herself through the apartment door like a zombie who had seen too much.
She dropped her bag by the entrance. Shoes kicked off. Jacket tossed onto the chair.
Her legs hit the bed, and she collapsed with a soft groan. Pillows swallowed her like a gentle trap.
Her phone buzzed faintly on the bedside table. She ignored it. Calls from her mom. Probably more nagging. Her boss. Probably more reminders she didn't ask for.
She exhaled, eyes staring at the ceiling.
This lie… this stupid, ridiculous lie… was exhausting.
Every fake smile, every nod, every tiny detail she had to remember.
Her chest felt heavy. Her mind raced. But somewhere deep inside, a small, stubborn spark glimmered.
*But…*
She pressed her cheek into the pillow, muttering quietly to herself, voice muffled by the blanket,
"I'd rather keep lying than go back to… that. The whispers. The judgment. The miserable single life where everyone acts like you're defective because you don't have a husband yet. I'll play this game… I'll survive. I'll show them."
She clenched the bedsheet dramatically. A tiny, tired smile tugged at her lips.
Tomorrow was another day. Another performance. Another lie.
And somehow… she thought she could manage it.
For now, the city hummed outside her window. The lights flickered. The world moved on.
Emiko Fujiwara, married in name only, let herself drift into sleep, exhausted but determined.