On the way from Chiba back to downtown Tokyo, a cold and beautiful young woman—Hikigaya Kazusa, or rather, Kazusa Touma sat in the passenger seat of Haruki's car.
Her mind was filled with images of her ex-husband's wretched state.
Did he become like that because of my mistake? Am I really wrong... but didn't Mom say that a woman has the right to pursue her own happiness and true love?
A while ago, seeing the once-spirited Ryohei walking desolately along the road with a plastic bag had made her feel terrible. Accompanied by Haruki, she had intended to visit the children, but the moment she saw Ryohei near the address Komachi had sent, she turned back immediately.
She felt a sliver of guilt.
She knew she had wronged him.
Out of that guilt, she had given up custody, only to increase his burden. Out of that guilt, she had given up their luxury apartment, only to leave him with all the debt, leading him to a literal heart attack.
But Kazusa knew she wasn't going back.
She had gone too far to turn around.
Whether it was for "love" or simply because she couldn't face the eyes of her children, she was committed.
"I'm sorry to my husband, but what can I do? I think I really love Haruki... just this once!"
That had been her thought before confessing. Now that she had reignited the old flame, she only wanted to grow old with Haruki.
Beside her, Haruki Kitahara felt a strange sense of relief that she had avoided Ryohei. He didn't want a confrontation. Recently, things with Kazusa were getting better, but he had already blown up at home with Setsuna.
The once-gentle Setsuna had become neurotic and "unreasonable" due to her suspicions.
Haruki's internal scales leaned toward the woman beside him. When he held the cold-looking Kazusa in his arms, her hidden, fiery passion made him realize that it was a stark contrast to Setsuna's eternal, stifling shyness.
"What are you thinking about?" Haruki asked. "Nothing. Just worried about the kids."
Haruki opened his mouth but didn't know how to continue. As the "third party," any comfort he gave would be weird. He was a middle-aged man who had been through the "dyeing vat" of society; he knew what he wanted, and everything else was secondary.
They arrived at the apartment Haruki had recently rented for her. Haruki, a seasoned civil servant, had become a "hot commodity" in a failing economy due to his stable job.
"Kazusa, we're here. Won't you invite me up for coffee?"
Haruki stared at the raven-haired beauty. She was wearing a tight-fitting pink knit top that highlighted her full figure.
"I'm a bit sleepy," Kazusa murmured. But then she added:
"Be... be my bed. I want to lean on you."
Inside the narrow car, on his 36th birthday, Haruki Kitahara held the woman he had pined for for years. But after a moment, she pushed him away, opened the door, and gave him a playful, lingering look, like a forest elf in the mist.
"Achoo!" Back at the small table, Ryohei sneezed. "Dad! Are you okay? Did you catch a cold because you aren't wearing enough?"
Komachi's worried voice made Ryohei's heart warm.
If I weren't here, who knows how much she would cry?
"I'm fine, Komachi. Let's eat! There's meat today. A friend lent me some money." He patted her head, and she beamed, scooting closer to him.
Hachiman, the son, remained in his usual state: gloomy face, dead-fish eyes. The atmosphere was awkward. Ryohei hadn't fully adapted to the family, and the siblings were still shell-shocked by their mother's departure and the bankruptcy.
Even the cheerful Komachi was walking on eggshells, afraid of mentioning "Mom" and hurting her father.