As Satomi disappeared up the stairs, the house fell quiet again. Kyouko stood still in the kitchen, her hand resting lightly on the counter, replaying her daughter's words.
"Just be friends with him."
"Friends…?" she whispered.
Friends don't sit shoulder to shoulder under the stars, wrapped in a silence that feels warmer than any conversation.
Friends don't hold each other that close.
Friends don't let their hands linger in places meant only for lovers.
Friends don't cry into each other's arms like that…
…and they certainly don't stare at lips the way he did that night.
Kyouko touched her own lips, her eyes unfocused.
They hadn't kissed—not on the lips, at least. Nothing too serious. Not yet.
But something had happened—something you can't undo.
Friend, huh…?
Whatever this was...
It wasn't friendship.
Not even close. They hadn't reached the level of lovers yet...but...
Kyouko leaned against the kitchen wall, arms gently crossed, watching Haruki from afar as he sat on the couch with his laptop—focused, calm, completely unaware of the quiet storm brewing inside her.
Satomi's voice still echoed in her mind. "Try to be friends with him."
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.
You clearly don't know anything about men, Satomi.
She let that thought linger.
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 friend" or "BFF" between a man and a woman, Satomi. Not when attraction exists. Not when touch carries weight. The moment romance enters—even just a hint of it, a possibility, a what-if—the friendship you thought you had dissolves into something else entirely.
She exhaled slowly, her eyes still on Haruki.
Without saying a word, Kyouko moved to the kitchen and quietly made a cup of coffee. Haruki's favorite. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, grounding her in the quiet of the house.
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, completely absorbed in whatever project he was working on. That calm, focused expression made her chest ache in a strange, quiet way.
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 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 so she could see what he was working on.
Kyouko didn't respond right away. She just watched him work—the quiet concentration, the way he held his coffee with one hand while navigating the screen with the other.
They sat like that, side by side, in a comfortable silence that didn't need filling.
Not awkward.
Not distant.
Just… close.
Kyouko leaned in, pretending to study the screen—but what she really wanted was to gauge Haruki's reaction. Her loose house dress shifted with the movement, dipping lower at the neckline and revealing the soft curve of her cleavage.
She noticed when he looked.
Haruki's gaze lingered for just a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. His eyes locked onto the curve of her chest before darting back to the screen, as if he hadn't looked at all. She could even see his ears turning faintly red.
Kyouko smiled to herself.
So predictable.
"Friends," she thought.
That word kept echoing in her mind.
Could a man and a woman ever truly be "just friends"?
Not when they were this close.
Not when she noticed the way his eyes followed her…
Not when he kept looking at places he shouldn't.
Men always had one desire at their core: lust. Sex. The heat behind their glances.
They rarely thought about anything else when the opportunity presented itself.
But Kyouko wasn't upset. She wasn't offended.
She just smiled—a soft, knowing smile—and sat back again, sipping her coffee.
If Satomi and her husband wanted to call this "friendship," then fine.
Kyouko would be Haruki's "friend."
The kind who knew exactly how his gaze lingered.
The kind who didn't mind.
Kyouko glanced toward the stairs. Quiet. No sounds from upstairs—just the hum of the night.
Without a word, 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, brought her knees up, and slowly stretched out, resting her legs along the cushions.
Then, without hesitation, she gently laid her head down on Haruki's lap.
Haruki froze. His hands lifted instinctively, unsure where to go, before settling near her shoulder—awkward but gentle.
Kyouko didn't say anything. She just scrolled through her phone as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're comfortable like that?" Haruki asked, his voice a little hoarse.
"Mmm. Yeah," Kyouko replied softly, without looking up.
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.
There was something about the way she moved—calm, quiet, but… deliberate.
Haruki didn't move.
He just stared at her, then slowly returned to his laptop—though he couldn't focus on anything on the screen.
Not with Kyouko lying across him like this.
Not with that warmth on his lap.
Not when her scent lingered so close.
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.
Of course. That's how men are... well, normal ones... not like her husband, who only cared about money, she thought with quiet amusement. Drawn first to a woman's face, then inevitably to certain parts. Her lips. Her curves. Her breasts. And Kyouko knew there was more he wanted to see.
She wasn't offended. Not by this handsome man... not by Haruki.
In fact, it felt oddly reassuring. She was still a woman. Still desirable—even if no one said it aloud anymore. Even if her husband no longer showed interest, perhaps because he'd grown cold, or simply couldn't anymore.
Kyouko didn't move. She just let him look, remaining calm and composed, her smile never fading.
If this was what being "just friends" looked like... she didn't mind at all.
( End of Chapter )