The digital alarm clock let out its soft chime at 5:30 a.m., cutting through the still silence of the Sato household.
Ayaka's eyes fluttered open.
She blinked a few times, adjusted to the dim light, and let out a small yawn. Her bare arm reached out from beneath the thin summer futon, groping around until her fingers found the alarm and silenced it. She sat up slowly, brushing her disheveled hair behind her ears. The loose collar of her pale sleeping yukata slipped down slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder.
Outside the paper screen window, the early morning sky was still tinged in soft blue.
Tying her robe tighter around her waist, Ayaka rose quietly and padded barefoot down the hall toward the bathroom. The house was still—only the low hum of the refrigerator and her husband's deep, rhythmic snoring could be heard.
She brushed her teeth without turning on the main light, relying on the vanity mirror's glow instead. Her reflection stared back—soft lines under her eyes, signs of age she didn't resent. She was still beautiful. Thirty-four, but youthful. A mature kind of allure. The kind men didn't outgrow. The kind that got her in trouble.
By 5:45, she was in the kitchen, preparing the first pot of coffee. The familiar scent filled the air, a small comfort in the routine. After pouring herself a cup, she returned to the bedroom. Minato was still sprawled out, half-facedown, snoring without a care.
"Honestly…" she muttered, shaking her head with a soft smile.
She folded the futon neatly, rolled the mattress up, and tucked it into the bedroom cupboard. Then, with her cup in hand and a paperback novel tucked under her arm, she headed into the altar room—which also served as the family's drawing room.
The small shrine in the corner held her late mother-in-law's photo. Ayaka bowed briefly in front of it before settling on the low table, sipping her coffee and reading a few pages in silence. The calm was real. Fleeting.
At 6:05, she stood up, untied her robe, and let it slip down her shoulders. She put on a soft beige bra and pulled a navy skirt up her hips, smoothing it with practiced ease. A light blouse followed, tucked neatly. She gathered her hair into a tight bun, leaving her usual soft bangs to frame her face.
By 6:15, she stepped out of the house with her reusable bag, locking the door quietly behind her. The morning streets of Kawagoe were peaceful. A few joggers passed by. An old man walked his Shiba Inu across the road. The cicadas had already begun their steady hum.
The air smelled like damp asphalt and sun-warmed stone.
The kombini was just around the corner. She browsed in her usual rhythm—eggs, green onions, tofu, pork slices, and a few seasonal vegetables. Enough for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Her girls, Sakura and Hana, would need proper bentos again today.
The cashier greeted her warmly. She paid and stepped outside with her shopping bags in hand.
It was 6:45.
"Hmm… I might make miso soup with—"
Her thought was interrupted when someone grabbed her wrist.
"—Wha—!?"
She was pulled suddenly into the narrow bicycle parking alley beside the kombini, her back pressing against the rough wall of the store. She gasped, nearly dropping her bag.
A tall, deeply tanned man stood in front of her—his hand still on her wrist, his breath warm and familiar.
"Ayaka-chan," he said, grinning.
"Riku…?" Her heart skipped, no—burst with adrenaline. "What the hell?! You scared me, you idiot!"
Riku was taller now. He always was. Muscular, broad-shouldered. His work clothes hinted he'd just finished night duty or morning delivery. His hand slid to her waist, pulling her close before she could react.
"Hey, hey—" she protested softly.
Her chest was pressed firmly against him. She could feel the tension in his arms, the heat in his skin. Without hesitation, Riku leaned down and kissed her—soft, greedy lips pressing against hers.
Her eyes widened.
She pulled back, pushing at his chest.
"You idiot—what if someone sees?!"
"No one's around," he whispered with a low chuckle. "Come on… When's that loser going on his next business trip?"
"I don't know," she hissed. "Minato doesn't tell me in advance."
Riku leaned in again, lips brushing her ear. "It's been over a week, Ayaka-chan. You miss it too, don't you?"
She clenched her jaw, pushing him back harder this time.
"Let me go. You're insane. What if someone saw us?"
He gave her a lazy smile, not resisting her shove. "You'll call me later?"
"I'll think about it," she muttered, adjusting her blouse, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something else. "Now stop being stupid."
He stepped aside, arms raised. "Hmmm, fine. But I'm waiting, Ayaka-chan."
As she walked away, he shouted after her, "Don't keep me starved too long!"
She didn't look back.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath, trying to shake the heat from her face. "That stupid boy is going to get us caught…"
The quiet peace of the morning felt thinner now.
She arrived home a little after 7:00. The girls would be waking soon. Minato might still be in bed until 8:00, as always on Sundays. Ayaka washed her hands, tied her apron, and began preparing breakfast.
Miso soup on the stove. Rice in the cooker. Eggs cracked into a bowl.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, but her mind was somewhere else.
Riku's lips.
His grip on her wrist.
The sharp contrast between her husband's deep snoring and the heat of that alleyway kiss.
She poured soy sauce into the pan, the sizzling snap snapping her out of it.
No more mistakes.
Not today.
But deep down… She wasn't sure if she wanted to stop.