The divorce was finalized on a rainy Thursday in September.
Sayuri came home from the lawyer's office soaked to the skin, the manila envelope clutched to her chest like a trophy. Kenji had signed without even reading it properly; just shrugged, muttered something about "finally being free to live with his secretary," and handed the pen back.
He didn't fight for the house.
Didn't fight for the kids (they were already in university and had chosen their mother years ago).
Didn't even look at her one last time.
Sayuri stood in the genkan of the home she'd lived in for twenty-two years and felt… nothing for him.
Only relief.
And a deep, aching need for the man who had become her entire world.
Kai was waiting for her at the farmhouse, dinner simmering on the stove, candles flickering on the low table. When she walked through the door, hair dripping, blouse plastered transparently to her massive breasts, he took one look at her face and knew.
"It's done," she whispered.
He crossed the room, took the envelope from her shaking fingers, and dropped it onto the table without opening it.
Then he kissed her.
Slow. Deep. Possessive.
Rain hammered the roof as he peeled the wet clothes from her body piece by piece—blouse buttons popping softly, skirt pooling at her feet, lace bra unhooked and tossed aside until she stood naked and trembling in the warm glow of the candles. Her skin was chilled from the rain, nipples stiff and dark, goosebumps rising everywhere his mouth touched.
Kai lifted her easily—she was soft and heavy in all the right ways—and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her on the fresh sheets like she was something priceless.
Tonight wasn't about fucking away years of neglect.
Tonight was about claiming what was finally, legally, irrevocably his.
He kissed every inch of her—collarbones, the upper swell of each breast, down the center of her soft belly, lingering on the faint silver lines that proved she'd carried life. When he reached the apex of her thighs, she was already drenched, arousal mixing with the rain still clinging to her skin.
Kai spread her open gently, reverently, and tasted her like she was the first meal he'd had in years. Long, slow licks from entrance to clit, again and again, until Sayuri was sobbing his name, fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling helplessly.
When she came the first time, it was soft and rolling, her whole body shuddering as she flooded his tongue.
Only then did he rise up over her, settling between her thick thighs.
"Look at me, Sayuri."
She did—eyes glassy with tears and love.
"You're mine now. Not his. Never again his."
She nodded, reaching down to guide him in.
He entered her bare, inch by thick inch, watching her face the entire time. Her pussy welcomed him like home—hot, slick, clenching greedily around every vein. When he bottomed out, they both groaned, foreheads pressed together.
Then he started to move.
Slow.
Deep.
Deliberate.
Every thrust was a promise: I love you. I choose you. You're free.
Sayuri wrapped her legs high around his waist, ankles locked, pulling him deeper on every stroke. Her enormous breasts rocked between them, nipples dragging across his chest. She kissed him through every thrust—messy, open-mouthed, whispering "I love you" like a prayer.
Minutes blurred into an hour.
He rolled them so she was on top, hands gripping her wide hips as she rode him languidly, grinding her clit against his pelvis, head thrown back, long black hair cascading down her back. Her second orgasm built slowly, visibly—thighs trembling, breath hitching—until she collapsed forward onto his chest, pussy spasming so hard he had to grit his teeth to keep from coming.
Kai flipped her again, this time onto her side, one of her legs hooked over his shoulder so he could go even deeper. The angle made her cry out, nails raking his back as he fucked her with long, dragging strokes that rubbed right against her front wall.
"Kai—Kai—I'm—"
"Come for me again, baby. One more time."
She shattered—harder than before, back arching off the bed, a rush of wetness coating his cock and balls as she squirted for the first time in her life. The sight of it, the feel of her completely losing control, finally broke him.
He buried himself to the hilt and let go.
Pulse after thick pulse flooded her, painting her insides white, marking her in the most primal way possible. Sayuri clung to him, milking every drop, whispering broken "I love yous" against his neck as he filled her until it leaked out around his base and soaked the sheets.
They didn't separate for a long time.
He stayed inside her, softening slowly, holding her close while aftershocks rippled through her body. When he finally slipped out, a river of cum followed, and Sayuri whimpered at the loss.
Kai kissed her tears away.
"No more tears for him," he murmured. "Only happy ones from now on."
She smiled—radiant, free, utterly his.
"Make love to me again," she whispered. "All night. Until the sun comes up. I want to fall asleep with you inside me."
So he did.
They made love three more times before dawn—slow and reverent, then playful and laughing, then desperate and filthy, her on all fours while he took her from behind, watching those glorious breasts swing as he filled her again and again.
When the first light crept through the shutters, Sayuri finally drifted off with Kai's cock still buried deep inside her, his arms wrapped around her waist, one hand gently cupping her breast.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
Inside, a marriage had ended.
And a new life—one built entirely on love, lust, and the promise of forever—had just begun.
It was the first week of November when Kai's mother finally came home.
The hospital discharged her with a clean bill of health, a bottle of maintenance meds, and strict orders to "live a quiet, happy life."
Kai drove to the city in Sayuri's car (she'd insisted he take it), picked his mother up at the gate, and watched her eyes widen at the sight of the sleek black SUV.
"Whose car is this, Kai?" she asked, suspicious but smiling.
"You'll see," he said, kissing her cheek.
The drive back to Hanami took two hours. His mother dozed most of the way, still thin but no longer gray-faced, her hair growing back soft and dark again. When they turned onto the gravel road leading to the farmhouse, she woke fully and stared out the window at the golden rice fields ready for harvest.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "You were right to come here."
Kai parked in front of the house and felt his heart hammer.
Sayuri was waiting on the porch.
She'd gone all out: a modest navy dress that still couldn't hide her ridiculous hourglass figure, hair down in soft waves, minimal makeup, hands clasped nervously in front of her. A tray of homemade strawberry daifuku and hot tea sat on the table.
When Kai's mother stepped out of the car, Sayuri bowed deeply—formal, respectful, the perfect picture of a traditional daughter-in-law-to-be.
"Okāsan," she said softly, voice trembling just a little, "welcome home. My name is Yamada Sayuri. I… I've been looking after your son."
Kai's mother—Keiko—blinked. Then blinked again, taking in the stunning woman twenty years her junior who was clearly, obviously, head-over-heels in love with her boy.
Keiko looked at Kai. Looked back at Sayuri. And then, to both their shock, started laughing—bright, healthy, delighted laughter that turned into happy tears.
"Oh my God," Keiko finally managed, wiping her eyes. "The angel who paid my bills has a face. And what a face!"
Sayuri flushed crimson, bowing again. "I just… I love him, okāsan. Very much."
Keiko walked straight up the porch steps, took Sayuri's face in both hands, and kissed her forehead like a blessing.
"Then you're already family," she declared. "Come here, let me look at the woman who saved both my life and my son's heart."
The afternoon passed in a blur of tears, laughter, and too many sweets.
Keiko told stories of Kai as a little boy—how he used to carry groceries for old ladies twice his size, how he cried when his goldfish died, how he'd promised her at age ten that he'd "make enough money so you never have to worry again."
Sayuri listened with shining eyes, hand resting on Kai's thigh under the table the entire time.
Then it was Sayuri's turn.
She told Keiko everything—no sugarcoating. The failed idol dream, the cold marriage, the years of feeling invisible, and how Kai had walked into her store one day and looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.
"I've never felt so seen," Sayuri said quietly. "Not even when I was young and supposedly beautiful. He makes me feel… precious."
Keiko reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"You are precious, sweetheart. And you gave me my son back. I was so scared he'd work himself to death in that city for me. Now look at him—strong, happy, in love. I can die peaceful now."
"Don't you dare," Kai and Sayuri said at the same time, then looked at each other and laughed.
That night, after Keiko was settled in the guest room (exhausted but glowing), Kai found Sayuri in the kitchen washing teacups, eyes red from happy crying.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"She loves you," he murmured.
Sayuri turned in his arms, dress clinging to her curves, and kissed him slow and deep.
"Take me to bed, Kai," she whispered. "Your mother's finally home. You're finally free. Let's celebrate properly."
They made love that night like the world had been reborn.
Quietly—no screams, just soft gasps and whispered "I love yous" so they wouldn't wake Keiko down the hall. Sayuri rode him slowly on the futon, hands braced on his chest, breasts swaying gently with every roll of her hips. When she came, she buried her face in his neck to muffle the sound, pussy fluttering around him in long, sweet pulses.
Kai followed moments later, filling her with slow, deliberate thrusts, holding her close as he emptied everything he had into the woman who had quite literally saved his family.
Afterward, tangled and sweaty, Sayuri traced lazy hearts on his chest.
"Your mother called me family," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.
"You are," Kai said simply. "You always will be."
Somewhere down the hall, Keiko smiled in her sleep, dreaming of grandchildren with Sayuri's eyes and Kai's stubborn heart.
The harvest was coming.
And for the first time in years, every field in Kai's life was fertile.