Kyouko smiled gently, still catching her breath.
It had been so long.
More than a month since she felt him inside her.
And yet.
With just a few movents.
Just a few slow, knowing thrusts...
Haruki made her climax.
So easily.
So perfectly.
As always.
She watched as he slowly walked back to his hospital bed, bare feet silent against the tile.
His steps were still slightly unsteady—but she could see it in the way he moved.
That sa quiet strength.
That familiar masculine confidence.
Kyouko gently closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it, one hand brushing her lower belly with care.
He held back.
He didn’t finish.
He wanted to—
But he stopped.
Because he knew she was carrying his child..
"Haruki?"
"Hmm?"
Kyouko adjusted her dress gently, fixing her hair before reaching for her purse.
"I’ll be going out for a while."
Haruki turned his head toward her.
His smile softened.
"Where to?"
She paused at the door.
Looked back at him.
"To change my na."
He blinked.
"So... I can beco Takahashi Kyouko again."
Not Harusawa.
Not a forgotten, invisible wife.
Not a woman tied to a cold, loveless marriage.
But herself.
The daughter of Takahashi Kitayama.
The woman her parents loved.
The woman he loved.
He smiled.
"That na suits you."
Kyouko smiled faintly, then turned.
"Be careful. Don’t drive."
Haruki’s voice followed her just as she reached the door.
Kyouko paused. Glanced back over her shoulder.
"I don’t have a car anymore," she said softly, lips curling into a quiet smile.
"Rember?"
Haruki chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.
"Kyouko?"
"Hmm?"
He shifted slightly in bed, looking at her with that sa gentle gaze.
"Just use the bank card I gave you before."
She t his eyes.
And nodded.
"I will."
No more pride.
No more hesitation.
Just two people who knew they belonged to each other—
sharing everything now.
As Kyouko stepped out of Room 324 and walked toward the elevator, the hospital corridor quiet as usual, a voice called out behind her.
"Hello~"
She turned slightly.
A tall man in a dark suit stood there, flanked by two discreet-looking assistants and a driver lingering just behind.
She blinked once. Calm. Neutral.
"Hmm?"
The man smiled smoothly.
"You’re beautiful, Kyouko."
Her expression didn’t change.
"Who are you?" she asked, her tone polite but distant.
He stepped forward a little.
"Don’t you rember ?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"Sorry. I don’t know you."
"We t at the Fujiwara exclusive dinner event."
Kyouko offered a soft, gracious smile.
"Hmm... I rarely talked to anyone that evening."
"There were a lot of n trying to approach ..."
"And at the ti, I was with Kazuma-san and Haruki-san."
She gave a small shrug.
"So again... I’m sorry. I don’t recall you."
The man’s smile faltered, just for a second.
Kyouko gave a small bow.
"If you’ll excuse ."
"Wait..." the man said, stepping forward as she reached for the elevator.
"You don’t need to be shy around ."
Kyouko turned her head slightly—graceful, patient.
But when she felt his fingers curl around her wrist, her smile stiffened.
She looked down at her wrist calmly, then up at him again.
"Please remove your hand, sir."
Her voice was still polite.
Still soft.
But her eyes—were not.
"Don’t be like that," he chuckled.
"I’m rich. Surely you’ve heard of Fujiwara Group, right?"
Kyouko’s smile deepened slightly.
"Sorry?"
"I don’t know about that."
She glanced again at her wrist, held in his grip.
"So if you please... let go of my hand?"
Fujiwara smirked.
"I can give you anything, Kyouko."
"And since you’re already divorced... how about we go register our marriage today?"
Kyouko tilted her head slightly.
A soft sigh left her lips.
Then she smiled,
and without warning,
brought her knee forward and struck his crotch.
Hard.
Fujiwara dropped instantly, gasping in shock as he collapsed onto the cold hospital floor, hands clutching between his legs.
"I did say it twice, didn’t I?"
Kyouko looked down at him, voice still sweet.
"Please remove your hand."
The two n at his side started to step forward, but imdiately stopped.
Several n, dressed in plain clothes but clearly trained, appeared from the hallway—forming a quiet, protective wall around Kyouko.
One of them gave a subtle nod to her.
Fujiwara groaned, still on the floor.
Kyouko simply stepped over him, heels clicking lightly.
"Move over!" one of Fujiwara’s guards barked, stepping forward.
"Do you even know who that man is!? The one that woman just kicked!?"
Another added sharply, voice full of disdain.
"You peasants dare block us? That’s Fujiwara-sama!"
The group of quiet n standing between them didn’t even flinch.
One of them took a step forward, adjusting his blazer slightly.
His tone was calm. Flat.
Not loud, but final.
"We don’t know him."
He glanced briefly at the groaning man on the floor.
"All we know—"
"—is that we were ordered to protect Takahashi Group’s eldest daughter."
Silence.
A cold chill rippled down the hallway.
Fujiwara’s n stiffened.
Their expressions faltered.
They glanced at each other—eyes wide now.
Takahashi Group.
The na alone held more power than any threat.
The kind of na you didn’t touch.
Didn’t question.
Didn’t challenge.
The lead Takahashi guard stepped forward once more, gaze level, voice calm.
"So..." he said, nodding slightly toward the man still curled on the ground,
"Move along. Take your Fujiwara-sama with you, and go."
His tone sharpened just a touch, the edge slipping through.
"If you have any problem—"
"You’re free to file an official complaint with the Takahashi Group."
He smiled faintly.
"Or better yet... call Mister Kazuma directly."
The na dropped like a stone into still water.
Fujiwara’s n stiffened again.
Kazuma.
The son-in-law of Takahashi Kitayama.
CEO of a Takahashi-aligned firm.
Known for being polite... and ruthless.
The Takahashi guard adjusted his jacket one last ti and tilted his head.
"Shall I give you his number?"
The hallway fell quiet.
Fujiwara’s n said nothing more.
They slowly crouched, helping their boss to his feet in silence.
And walked away.
( End Of Chapter )
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