Miyu would wish her night was going to be that exciting.
But no, like every other night, it would be mundane. In her modest house in the quiet suburbs, the building where she and her husband lived.
The smell of steamed rice and miso soup was in the air that night, staples of their unchanging routine. Miyu moved about the space like she always did, her slim figure clad in a loose house dress that hung straight down her body.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused for a moment to admire. What she saw wasn't very admirable.
Some people used to tell her she was pretty. Pretty in a delicate way. They didn't tell her that anymore. And now, all Miyu saw was a lonely woman with long dark brown hair tied back and desperate eyes that no one seemed to notice.
She had just finished preparing dinner: a simple spread of grilled fish, rice, pickled vegetables, and soup, arranged neatly on the low table.
