“I’m home…”
Aina Saiten pushed open the door to her home, her voice a few notes lower than usual, carrying a weariness that came from finally setting down a heavy burden.
The light in the foyer was still on—the one Kazune had left on for her.
The warm, yellow glow spilled onto the shoe cabinet, illuminating the pair of slippers placed neatly side by side.
As she bent down to change her shoes, a dull ache shot through her back and waist, the aftereffect of being hunched over a desk for nearly ten hours straight.
It spread from her shoulder blades all the way down to her tailbone, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment.
She had worked overtime until nine today.
Just as she was about to leave, she suddenly received a message from her department head.
The company was about to sign a contract and needed her, as the deputy head of the accounting department, to verify the financial details.
The message was urgent, the wording formal. It seemed perfectly reasonable, without a single flaw.
She didn’t think too much of it, replied with an “Okay,” then sat back down, opened the thick contract, and began turning the pages one by one, reading line by line.
The numbers danced before her eyes, dense and tiny like a swarm of unruly ants.
Her eyes were terribly dry, stinging with every blink, but she didn’t dare stop, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to focus again.
By the time she finally finished checking the last page, signed it, and sent it back to the legal department, it was already nine in the evening.
She packed her things, turned off her computer, and walked out of the office.
The corridor was empty, most of the lights already off. Only the emergency exit signs were lit, casting small patches of sickly white light on the walls.
The elevator was empty except for her. Mirrors on all four sides reflected her tired, pale, bloodless face.
The train ride from the company to home took half an hour.
The car wasn’t crowded, people scattered here and there— some dozing in their seats, some scrolling through their phones, some staring blankly out the window.
Aina Saiten also looked out the window, watching the neon lights—red, green, blue, purple—streak past the glass and disappear, like elongated, shattered rainbows.
Something was also running through her mind, those increasingly exhausting, persistent doubts.
More than the physical and mental fatigue from working nearly ten hours straight, it was that deepening suspicion, coiling around her heart like vines, that truly made her feel suffocated.
Before, when she had to work overtime every weekend, she simply told herself that as a mid-level manager now, of course she couldn’t completely abandon work like a regular employee.
And with her current need for money, she really did need that high overtime pay.
She needed money, needed to give Kazune a better future, needed to save enough for a down payment on a bigger house, needed to save up for a decent wedding.
So she never complained, never refused, always went obediently, worked diligently, thinking this would bring her one step closer to that “better future.”
But ever since she discovered that on weekends, Chinatsu Ayase took Kazune out while she was working overtime, she began to wonder—was her overtime really due to company needs, and not some secret directive from the president’s daughter?
Those suddenly appearing “urgent contracts,” those documents that “must be processed today,” that work that “only you can do”— how much of it was real, and how much was deliberately arranged by someone?
She didn’t know, and didn’t want to know.
But she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it.
And today, the reason she was asked to work overtime was “the company is about to sign a contract and needs you to verify the financial details.”
It seemed perfectly reasonable—contract amounts couldn’t be wrong, it was the duty of the deputy head of accounting, no one could say anything about it. Yet that thorn in her heart still ached faintly.
She sent a message to Kazune, saying she needed to work overtime tonight and that he shouldn’t wait for her for dinner.
The message was sent, marked as “Read,” but she didn’t get a reply.
One minute, two minutes, five minutes… ten minutes passed, and the chat box still only contained that one lonely message she’d sent, lying there like a shoe abandoned on the roadside.
She waited for a long time, but never got a reply from Kazune.
Her heart began to sink, like a stone thrown into water, slowly, bit by bit, sinking to the deepest, darkest bottom.
She began to wonder—asleep? Cooking? Or… had he gone out?
How many plausible reasons could Kazune, alone at home, have for not replying to a message promptly?
Each one sounded so reasonable, yet each one couldn’t withstand closer scrutiny.
Perhaps there was another possibility, but Aina Saiten didn’t want to think about it, didn’t dare to think about it.
That her beloved Kazune was, at this moment, with another woman…
The thought only surfaced halfway before she forcefully pushed it back down, like pressing a ball filled with fear that kept bobbing up from the water.
She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t dare to, but the image still flashed through her mind—Kazune leaning in someone else’s embrace, Kazune being kissed by someone else, Kazune being… by someone else…
She shook her head hard, trying to fling those images away, but they clung like gum stuck in her hair, impossible to get rid of.
She picked up her phone, ready to video call Kazune.
Her finger hovered over the green button, hesitating, not pressing down.
She hesitated.
Even though she didn’t want to think in that direction, she couldn’t help it—what if Kazune really was…
If she called, what would she see? What would she hear? Would she see the scene she least wanted to see? Hear the sounds she least wanted to hear?
If they came from Kazune’s phone, from the mouth of her beloved Kazune… she didn’t know if she could bear it.
But she also worried—what if something had happened to Kazune at home, like a sudden fainting spell? If she didn’t call to check, she might miss the most critical moment.
She couldn’t take that risk.
She couldn’t let Kazune be in danger because of her own fear.
In the end, she chose a compromise—only an audio call, not video.
That way, if Kazune really was doing something he shouldn’t, at least she wouldn’t see it with her own eyes.
She could pretend not to know, pretend nothing had happened, continue to maintain this precarious, fragile peace.
She dialed her boyfriend’s number.
“Bzz— bzz— bzz—”
Each ringtone dragged on, especially clear in the quiet office.
Her fingers gripped the phone, knuckles turning white from the force.
Her heartbeat accelerated with each “bzz,” thumping like someone beating a drum.
After about ten seconds, the call connected.
“Hello? Aina, what’s up…”
The man’s voice came through the phone, somewhat low and hoarse, as if he’d just woken up, a lingering, unswallowed note still in his throat, or as if it had been rubbed by something, the edges a bit rough.
Hearing her boyfriend’s voice, Aina Saiten immediately let out a sigh of relief.
That breath exhaled from her chest, long and soft, like a string pulled too tight finally loosening.
At least, the worst-case scenario of hearing inappropriate sounds as soon as the call connected hadn’t happened.
At least, he answered. At least, he was still willing to answer her call.
“Kazune, you…”
She asked cautiously, her voice very soft, as if testing the thickness of thin ice,
“Were you just asleep?”
Before her words finished—
“Ah!”
A startled cry came from the other end of the phone. The sound was sudden, sharp, as if he’d been frightened by something, or suddenly remembered something terrible.
Aina’s heart clenched violently, as if squeezed hard by a hand.
“What’s wrong?”
She asked with some urgency, her voice unconsciously rising half a pitch.
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then, she heard Kazune’s voice again, carrying a trace of panic, a trace of guilt, and some faint, indistinct background noise—like something rubbing, or the rustle of fabric.
“I felt a bit sleepy after lunch, so I took a nap.”
His voice was halting, as if thinking while speaking, each word squeezed out from between his teeth,
“Didn’t expect to sleep for three hours, so I was a bit startled…”
“I see.”
Aina Saiten said.
Her voice was flat, bland, like a cup of white water that had gone cold, without any flavor.
She let out another sigh of relief—at least, Kazune had given an explanation.
At least, he hadn’t stayed silent, hadn’t been evasive, hadn’t said “nothing.”
But deep in her heart, something still squirmed uneasily.
She felt there was something off about Kazune’s breathing as he spoke—too rushed, too erratic, as if he were running, or doing something that required effort.
But she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. Maybe it was just a bad signal, maybe she was just being too sensitive, maybe she was just scaring herself.
She didn’t want to think about it further. If she kept thinking, she’d go crazy.
“I’m working overtime tonight, probably won’t be back until nine.”
She paused, swallowed. Her saliva was dry, and it hurt a little going down her throat,
“Kazune, don’t wait for me for dinner.”
“Hmm… Okay…”
A muffled sound came from the other end, as if something was blocking his throat.
Aina Saiten paused again.
That sound… why did it sound a bit strange?
As if Kazune was speaking with something in his mouth, or as if his tongue wasn’t very flexible.
But she didn’t press further.
She just said, “Then get some rest early,” and hung up.
The phone screen went dark, reflecting her own tired, pale face.
She put the phone back in her pocket, leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes.
But her mind was still a mess, like a ball of yarn a cat had played with—no beginning, no end.
Kazune said he was sleeping, slept for three hours.
But why did his voice sound so tired? Shouldn’t he be refreshed after three hours of sleep? Why was his voice so hoarse, as if he’d been shouting all day? Why was his breathing so ragged when he spoke, as if he was holding something back?
She didn’t want to think about it.
But those questions, like insects, crawled around in her mind, impossible to drive away.
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