After Satomi disappeared up the stairs, the house fell quiet again. Kyouko stood in the kitchen, her hand resting lightly on the counter, replaying her daughter's words.
Just be friends with him, Mom.
Friends...?
Do you know what you're asking of me? It's like giving me permission to cross boundaries I won't be able to maintain.
Friends don't hug under the starry sky.
Friends don't let their hands linger in places reserved for lovers.
Friends don't cry into each other's arms like that...
Kyouko leaned against the kitchen wall, arms gently crossed, watching Haruki from afar as he sat on the couch with his laptop.
Friends...
Since when could a man and a woman truly be just friends?
There's no such thing. A man and a woman can't be just friends, or best friends.
Maybe when they're strangers.
Maybe when there's no warmth or laughter shared.
Maybe when the heart doesn't skip a beat...
...when the silence between them isn't so comfortable.
But once a woman lets a man hold her close, lets his hand rest where it shouldn't, lets her own head lean into his chest and stay there, once she allows herself to feel safe in his arms, to breathe in his scent, to memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat?
That's not friendship anymore.
There's no such thing as "best friends" or "BFFs" between a man and a woman, Satomi. Not when attraction exists. Not when touch carries weight. The moment romance enters, even the slightest what-if, the friendship you thought you had dissolves into something else entirely.
You clearly don't know anything about men, Satomi. Men are different from us women, and you should know that.
Kyouko slipped into the kitchen and quietly brewed a cup of coffee, Haruki's favorite. The rich aroma of fresh grounds filled the air, anchoring her in the house's serene stillness.
She glanced up at the stairs. They were probably busy packing, or maybe already asleep.
It didn't matter.
Haruki was still in the living room, his laptop open on the low table, earbuds in, utterly absorbed in his project. That calm, focused expression made her chest flutter.
She approached slowly and gently touched his shoulder. "Haruki?"
He flinched, then smiled when he saw her. "Hmm? Oh… Kyouko-san."
She handed him the cup. "Coffee for you."
"Ah, thank you."
Kyouko sat beside him without a word, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his arm. Her eyes drifted to his laptop screen.
"What are you working on?"
"Just fixing some slide presentations for a pitch meeting," Haruki replied, pulling out one earbud to hear her.
Kyouko watched him work in quiet concentration, sipping his coffee with one hand while navigating the screen with the other.
She leaned in, pretending to study the display.
But what she really wanted was to gauge Haruki's reaction. Her loose house dress shifted with the movement, dipping lower at the neckline to reveal the soft curve of her cleavage.
Haruki's eyes darted toward her cleavage, locking onto the swell of her breast before snapping back to the screen.
Kyouko smiled to herself.
Friends... there was no such thing.
Men always had one desire at their core. They rarely thought of anything else when the opportunity arose.
Well... if Satoshi and Satomi insist I get closer to Haruki and be "friends" with him...
We'll become "friends." But don't blame me if this goes further than just friends.
Kyouko glanced toward the stairs. Quiet. No sounds from upstairs, just the hum of the night.
She pulled out her phone and slid closer to Haruki. The couch was long, and he'd settled at one end, still absorbed in his laptop.
Kyouko turned slightly, drew her knees up, and slowly stretched out, resting her legs along the cushions. She gently laid her head in Haruki's lap.
Haruki froze. His hands lifted instinctively from the keyboard.
Kyouko didn't say anything. She just smiled while scrolling through her phone.
"You're comfortable like that?" Haruki asked, glancing down at her beautiful face.
"Mmm. Yeah," Kyouko replied softly.
Her hair spilled across his thigh. He could feel the slight weight of her head and her breath brushing against his stomach. Her legs curled slightly, her toes brushing the edge of the couch.
Kyouko smiled softly when she noticed Haruki looking at her—not just a quick glance, but the way his eyes lingered, shifting between her face... and her breasts.
See, Satomi. This is how men are. Well, normal ones... not like your father, who only cared about money.
Drawn first to a face, then inevitably to certain parts. Lips. Curves. Breasts. And of course, there was more.
Kyouko just smiled.
She didn't feel offended or awkward. Haruki wasn't like other men. He not just handsome, but gentleman.
She noticed his hand pretending to move, just to brush against her breast a little before settling back on his laptop. She pretended not to notice.
I don't know why, but it felt oddly reassuring. It meant he still saw me as a beautiful, desirable woman, even if her husband no longer showed interest, perhaps because he'd grown cold or simply couldn't anymore.
Kyouko didn't move. She let him look at her breasts, remaining calm and composed, her smile never fading.
If this was what being "just friends" looked like... I didn't mind at all.
( End Of Chapter )