It was eight when Henry returned to his apartment.
Opening the door, the familiar scene of home welcomed him. He hung his coat on the rack, slipped into his slippers, and stepped into the living room.
"You're back already?" a woman's voice greeted him.
It was Rio Hoshino, sitting on the sofa, folding baby clothes while the TV played quietly in the background.
They had first met back in college. Their relationship had been good—more than good. They were compatible, happy. But life had its twists. Rio's family matters forced her to return to Japan, and so they broke up.
At the farewell party, both of them had been miserable. They drank too much.
Henry didn't remember everything that happened that night—but his mattress the next morning, stained with blood, gave him a clue.
The meaning was obvious.
Yet Rio left anyway. She cut off contact completely, and Henry thought that was the end of their story.
So, a month later, he moved on. He started dating again, juggling a part-time job to make ends meet while finishing his studies.
Time passed quickly.
He broke up with that girlfriend, graduated, and traded his part-time hustle for a corporate internship. It felt like the start of a new chapter—until Rio appeared before him again, with the twins.
Maybe it was the Chessboard artifact, but Henry felt different now. More confident. Lighter. Facing Rio, he couldn't help but wear a big smile.
"Yeah, I think there's no need to drive a cab anymore. My internship is finished," Henry said casually, lying as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He sat down beside Rio on the sofa.
"Eh?" Rio arched a brow, surprised—not by his words, but by the sudden closeness.
Ever since their reunion, they hadn't been used to this.
With Henry working two jobs, they rarely even saw each other awake. His pride as a man had taken a hit during that period, too, leaving him withdrawn and uncertain.
Flirting with her? That had never once happened.
The atmosphere of their "family" had been gray and strained, both of them simply struggling to survive another day.
A makeshift family—that's what they were.
Facing this familiar yet strangely new Henry, Rio felt as though she had been pulled back to their college days—shy, bashful, and a little flustered.
"W-well, are you hungry? I'll make you something," she blurted, standing up in a hurry, ready to retreat. But before she could, a firm hand caught her wrist and tugged her back.
"Ah!"
Rio gasped softly, her cheeks flooding with red as she stumbled onto Henry's chest.
"I'm only missing my wife. Let me hug you for a while," Henry teased, inhaling the scent of her hair. Only now did he realize—the comforting fragrance he always associated with family was nothing more than her shampoo.
"You're so annoying. Let me go," Rio protested, wriggling in his arms.
It took some effort, but Henry eventually released her, satisfied after soaking in the warmth of her presence.
"Stinky Henry. Dummy," she muttered shyly before scurrying off into the kitchen, deciding to cook for him anyway.
Left alone on the sofa, Henry watched her slender figure retreat. A pang of clarity struck him.
Without money, confidence crumbled.
He knew—he had lived it. He had practically become a new person the moment he realized he no longer needed to fear tomorrow's bills.
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I really do need a cheat to skip the hardship, huh?" he muttered, finding the Chessboard artifact all the more ironic.
As Henry sat lost in thought on the sofa, Rio busied herself in the kitchen, though a smile tugged at her lips.
She was happy.
Her upbringing had left its mark—though her generation had grown up with modern values, Rio still carried with her a deep-rooted sense of tradition. Family came first; the home was her sanctuary. She enjoyed cooking, cleaning, and looking after her loved ones.
For her, this wasn't a burden but a choice, something that gave her fulfillment. And if the husband could shoulder the role of provider, then the balance felt just right.
"Except that the dummy still isn't asking me to marry him."
Thinking this, Rio pouted as she kneaded the dough with more force than necessary. She complained under her breath.
People weren't made of stone.
As much as Henry carried his own pain, Rio, too, had lived these years with regret and longing—especially after discovering she was pregnant with his child.
She had expected the possibility, of course. To her, it only confirmed that they were fated.
Instead of feeling troubled, Rio embraced the pregnancy. She cherished the twins as her most precious treasure, even planning to reunite with Henry once her family matters were settled.
What she hadn't expected was that nearly three years would pass before they would meet again. And though Henry had agreed to take responsibility, his personality was no longer the same. He had lost that brightness and humor that once defined him.
Their relationship now dangled in the balance—more than friends, but missing the spark to make them lovers again.
"He's back to his old self… it would be nice if he could stay like this forever."
The thought of his hug made Rio's heart flutter. She found herself smiling unconsciously as she worked, even humming a cheerful tune while rolling the noodles.
Her hands were skilled and precise. In no time, a fragrant bowl of ramen was ready, steam curling upward and filling the kitchen with warmth.
"Hope he likes it," she murmured, adjusting the dish carefully.
Then a sudden thought struck her.
"Oh no!" she gasped, hurrying into the bathroom beside the kitchen.
She leaned toward the mirror, lips curling into a frustrated pout.
"My hair's been unkempt since morning, the girls were too naughty, and my skin looks a little dry..."
She fretted, inspecting herself with a critical gaze.
But contrary to her words—
Rio's face was delicate, almost doll-like. Her skin had a soft, porcelain glow, smooth and unblemished. Straight brows framed her large, round eyes, which sparkled with warmth—a gaze that could soften even the hardest mood. Her nose was small and refined, and her lips curved naturally, as if carrying a secret smile even in silence. Altogether, she possessed a gentle, youthful charm—innocent yet captivating.
She was only twenty-two, still at the age of caring about her looks. Just as she reached for the cosmetics hidden behind the mirror, a sudden commotion erupted from the living room—