The morning light, like yesterday, illuminated the bedroom. However, Miki's inner world was entirely different from yesterday. She had barely slept a wink. The words "Send Error" refused to leave her mind. At every slightest sound Koji made beside her, she would startle, her heart rate soaring. He said nothing, simply began preparing for work as usual. His calmness, paradoxically, was unnerving.
(Did that photo reach my email safely? Or… was a trace left on Koji's smartphone?)
Koji said, "I'm leaving," and the front door closed. The sound echoed in Miki's eardrums like a gunshot. There was no time to spare.
She immediately sprang into action. Today, she even skipped the pretense of cleaning. Time was of the essence. Opening the study door, she unhesitatingly headed for the bottom drawer. Her hand, taking out the smartphone, trembled slightly more than yesterday. She was about to confirm the evidence that would determine her own destiny, no, the future she would carve out for herself this time.
She powered it on. Home screen. Tapped the email icon.
Opened the "Sent" folder.
Most of the emails she had sent were neatly lined up. But the email with that photo, the one from the bed she had tried to send last—it was… **gone**.
(Just as I thought…!)
A cold lump dropped into her stomach. So, where had that photo gone?
She desperately manipulated the screen. She tried opening the "Drafts" folder. And there it was—the photo that had failed to send, saved as a draft with an attached file, tucked away. The recipient was, of course, Miki's fake email address. An error had occurred just as she tried to press send, and it had been saved as a draft.
(This is… extremely dangerous…!)
Koji would rarely open this drafts folder. But if he ever found it, everything would be exposed. Her reconnaissance, her revenge plan, everything would be for naught. Moreover, this photo was one of the most explicit and decisive pieces of evidence.
Should she delete it?
No, if she deleted it, Koji might notice. He was particular about details. If one draft was missing, he would become suspicious.
(Then…)
Miki calmly made a decision. She would deliberately keep this dangerous bomb at hand. However, she would bury it deeper, out of his sight. She created several new draft emails within the "Drafts" folder, deliberately giving them work-related titles like "**Urgent: Account Book Confirmation**" and "**Re: Non-Public Meeting (Draft)**". In doing so, she pushed the dangerous draft far down the list, to a position where one would have to scroll repeatedly to find it.
(This should buy me some time… no, I can't let my guard down.)
She returned the smartphone to its original position and left the study. Cold sweat trickled down her back. This was a gamble on the edge. The tension of being watched, far stronger than before, tightened around her neck.
(I must alleviate Koji's suspicions… I must deceive him and make him feel at ease.)
During the day, she deliberately played the "good wife." She went shopping, meticulously selecting ingredients for Koji's favorite nikujaga, and spent a long time simmering it. While preparing dinner, she gazed at happy photos of Koji's friends' couples on social media, and deliberately murmured, "Koji, I wish we could be as close as your friends' couples."
When Koji returned home, he was still checking his smartphone, but his face no longer showed the same level of suspicion as last night. Was Miki's "act" having some effect, or was he simply too busy with work to remember it?
"Tonight's nikujaga is simmered for a long time. Please help yourself."
"Oh, smells good. You always put in so much effort."
"Yes, because it's for you."
He ate with apparent enjoyment, without suspicion. Watching him, Miki thought:
(This man never truly saw me. He noticed nothing, neither the subtle difference in the food's taste, nor the changes in my heart. He merely confirmed that his convenient "wife," like a piece of furniture, was there as usual.)
This realization, rather than sadness, solidified her cold anger and resolve. Deceiving his eyes might be easier than she thought. If so, she could act bigger, bolder.
After dinner, while Koji relaxed watching television, Miki picked up her tablet and began searching.
"Housewife hobbies classes Tokyo"
"Culture lessons"
Her purpose was twofold. First, to create legitimate reasons for her regular absence from home. Second, to build connections to gather information about Koji's social and business circles. Her reconnaissance within the house had reached its limits. The enemy's fortress walls were thick. She had to find a breakthrough from the outside.
The search results displayed various classes: flower arranging, tea ceremony, floral arrangement, nail art… Among them, one inconspicuous cultural school advertisement caught her eye.
『Matsuoka Culture School: Tea Ceremony, Flower Arranging, Incense Ceremony ~Small moments to refine the heart~』
The location was a quiet residential area, a little distant. The scale was not large. Conversely, precisely because it was such a place, there would be less interference, and there was a possibility that specific people might gather there.
And the name of the owner was "Kaoru Matsuoka." The description stated "former flower arranging teacher," and her age was probably in her mid-sixties. Below the phone number was: "**Visits and trial lessons welcome anytime**."
(This person… could it be… the owner of that voice on the phone…?)
A faint intuition stirred within her. There was no time to hesitate. Miki immediately dialed the number. The phone rang. Twice, three times.
"Hello, Matsuoka Culture School speaking."
The voice from the other end of the line was refined, yet somehow powerless, tinged with a sense of **loneliness**. It was exactly the tone Miki had imagined.
"Excuse my sudden call. I would like to inquire about a trial lesson for the tea ceremony class…"
"Yes, I am Matsuoka. Oh, visits and trial lessons are very welcome. Please come any time."
Her voice was gentle, yet Miki sensed a certain **strained delicacy** beneath it.
"Thank you. Then, how about next Wednesday? My name is Miki Kobayashi. My husband is… Koji Tanaka, from a company called Innovate Inc."
A slight pause followed. For a moment, it felt as if the breathing on the other end of the phone had stopped. Miki thought she heard a faint **gasp** through the receiver.
"…Innovate Inc.'s… Mr. Tanaka?"
Kaoru Matsuoka's voice changed, ever so slightly, yet discernibly. Beneath the gentleness, a sharp **blade of ice** had suddenly hidden itself, adding a **strong tension**. It was fleeting, though, and quickly returned to its original calm tone.
"Oh, what a distinguished husband you have. Please, do come. We look forward to seeing you."
The call ended.
Miki slowly put down the tablet. A quiet excitement coursed through her body. Her palms were slightly sweaty.
(That reaction… there's no mistake. This Kaoru Matsuoka person has some kind of history with Koji's company, Innovate Inc., or with Koji himself.)
Whether it was hostility or some other emotion, she didn't know. But she had clearly reacted to the name "Tanaka of Innovate Inc." This was, undeniably, a faint omen.
Outside the window, deep night was falling again. Koji was already asleep in the bedroom. That dangerous photo still slept in his smartphone.
But Miki was no longer alone. For the first time, she had found a small, yet definite, breakthrough to the outside. Matsuoka Culture School. That might become the new stage for her revenge drama.
She smiled. It was different from the amiable smile she showed Koji, and different from the cold sneer reflected in the mirror. It was the smile of a warrior, cold yet burning.
The long night continued. But perhaps, in the morning that would eventually come, a tiny ray of hope might shine through.