We were officially dismissed at five.
Early, technically—at least compared to the usual crawl toward seven o’clock.
Hale clapped his hands once, loud enough to cut through the leftover chatter from everyone still replaying our presentation in their heads.
"Alright, listen up," he said. "Word from the top: we’re closing early. Boss said, and I quote—’Good work deserves fresh air and a Friday that doesn’t end in darkness.’" Hale smirked. "So get out of here before he changes his mind."
That earned a few cheers.
Ji-ho imdiately threw his bag over his shoulder like the building was about to explode. Noah muttered sothing about finally eating real food. Tasha looked relieved for the first ti all day.
?
I just felt lighter. Still buzzing from how well we’d done.
We were packing up for the early dismissal when Derrick drifted over, leaning on the edge of my desk like he had nothing better to do.
He eyed with that annoyingly knowing smirk. "So... excited to go ho early and see the wife?"
I rolled my eyes. "I’m excited to leave at five like a normal human being. That’s it."
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Keep lying to yourself. anwhile I know you’re already picturing yourself walking through the door like so romantic movie montage." He tapped the top of my computer. "Then again... she’s probably still at work."
I snorted. "You say that like you know her schedule."
"I don’t." He shrugged. "But wasn’t she prepping sothing major? She strikes as the ’never clocks out on ti’ type."
"She is," I admitted. "So... yeah. You might be right."
Derrick gave a side-eye. "Look at you. Already disappointed."
"I’m not disappointed," I said. "Just... realistic."
"Uh-huh. Sure." He stretched his arms behind his head. "Anyway, you trying to go ho early to see your wife reminds —you know the girl I was dating? The one I ntioned last week?"
I paused mid-zip of my bag. "What was her na again? Camilla?"
He blinked. "Who—? No. Cynthia."
I frowned. "I’m ninety percent sure that was not her na."
"It is now," he deadpanned. "We broke up two weeks ago."
"Oh." I closed my locker door. "So now you’re with Cynthia."
He nodded without sha. "She’s Italian."
I stared at him. "Of course she is."
] "What? Why’d you say it like that?"
"No reason," I said. "Just... you seem like the type who collects nationalities like Pokémon."
He pointed at . "That’s racist."
"No, that’s accurate."
He laughed and slung his bag over his shoulder. "One day, Kai... one day I’m going to settle down. Get married. Wife. Kids. All that stuff."
"Right," I said. "And I’ll win the lottery."
He clicked his tongue. "Cold, man."
"Honest," I corrected.
Derrick shook his head, chuckling as we walked toward the elevators with the rest of the team filtering out. "Anyway, go ho, Tanaka. Your weekend starts now."
I bumped his shoulder lightly. "Yours too."
We split at the lobby doors—him heading toward the lot, toward my car—still hearing the leftover laughter from the team echoing behind us.
And for the first ti all day, my mind finally settled on one thing:
Getting ho.
I headed for the car, keys already in hand, thinking about the rest of the evening. The plan was simple: get ho, drop my bag, maybe try cooking sothing decent—sothing that could lift Val’s mood even if she pretended she didn’t need it lifted.
She’d act composed, of course. Controlled. Professional.
But I knew her.
I knew what that presentation would have felt like from the inside.
So yeah... dinner. Sothing warm.
When I pulled into the driveway, the first thing I noticed was her car.
Parked neatly. Quiet. Waiting.
My eyebrows shot up.
"She’s ho already?"
Earlier than I expected—much earlier. I parked next to her car, grabbed my bag, and stepped inside.
Aline t in the hallway with her usual soft smile. Duchess trotted up beside her, tail flicking against her legs like she owned the place.
"Good evening, sir," Aline said.
"Evening..." My eyes flicked toward the stairs, then back to her. "Val’s already back, uh?"
"Yes, sir," Aline replied. "Since noon actually."
"Noon?" My surprise wasn’t subtle. "Wow. She didn’t even—okay." I scrubbed a hand over my neck. "Guess she needed the day."
Aline nodded gently. "She went straight upstairs after lunch. I brought her tea around two, but she didn’t ask for anything else."
"Is she asleep?"
] "No, sir. She’s in the room."
I exhaled slowly. Sothing like relief, sothing like worry, both wrapped together.
"Thanks, Aline," I said quietly.
She stepped aside. Duchess did too—barely.
The house felt still as I started up the stairs. Not heavy... just quiet. The kind of quiet that waits for sothing.
My hand rested on the railing, and for a mont, I just breathed.
She’d been ho since noon.
I had no idea.
And she didn’t tell .
Not because she didn’t want to—just because that was her way of processing things first before sharing them.
I reached the top of the stairs.
My thoughts settled into that steady, familiar pull toward her.
Alright, I told myself.
Let’s see how my wife is doing.
---
I pushed the door open to our room, half expecting silence.
Instead, Val was perched on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone with her legs tucked under her. Her hair was still pinned back from earlier, though a few strands had escaped, softening the edges of her expression. She must’ve heard the door before she even saw , because the second I stepped inside, she spun around—
And her whole face lit up.
"You’re back early," she said, smiling in that way that made everything else in my day feel small.
"Apparently," I said, leaning against the doorfra for a second longer than necessary. "Didn’t expect to beat you ho."
She didn’t bother replying—not verbally. She stood, crossed the space between us in a few easy steps, and rose on her toes to kiss . Just a quick one, warm and soft and completely normal for her, but sohow exactly what I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for all day.
Before I could say anything else, her fingers slid to my collar, brushing the fabric like she was checking the texture.
I chuckled. "You’re inspecting my outfit now?"
"I picked it," she said simply, already loosening the top button. "If it needs inspecting, it’s your fault."
She tugged my shirt off my shoulders with practiced ease, like she’d done it a thousand tis in a thousand different moods—sotis sleepy, sotis rushed, sotis smug. Today she was quiet. Focused. Gentle.
I lifted my arms so she could pull the shirt away completely.
"Aline said you’ve—"
She pressed a finger to my lips.
"No," she said softly. "Shower first. Dinner second. Talk last."
I blinked. "Talk... last?"
She nodded, completely unbothered. "In that order."
Most days I would’ve pushed. Or tried to sneak in a question. But her voice didn’t leave any room for negotiation. It wasn’t stern, just... final. Calm in a way that made think she’d already sorted through everything in her head.
I let out a breath. "Okay. Fine. Shower first."
"And don’t take forever," she added as she gently steered toward the bathroom. "Dinner tastes better when you’re not overthinking."
"I’m not overthinking."
"You are," she replied without hesitation. "Go."
So I did.
The hot water helped, even if my brain still bounced between the presentation, the wait for results, Val’s company, Lucien’s sabotage, and her face when I walked into the room—happy instead of sad. But by the ti I dried off and changed into sothing comfortable, the tension in my shoulders had loosened.
Dinner was already waiting when I got downstairs—simple, warm, nothing fancy. The kind of al Val preferred on days she needed quiet instead of energy. We ate together without much conversation, just small comnts about the seasoning or the temperature or a look exchanged across the table.
It wasn’t awkward.
Just peaceful.
Afterward, she shooed Aline away when she tried to clear the dishes, insisting she’d handle it later, then tugged gently back upstairs.
By the ti we returned to the room, the lights were lower, the evening settling in, and everything felt softer around the edges.
I sat on the bed, already drawing in a breath to ask her—
How was your day? Aline said you’ve been back since noon—
But she beat to it so effortlessly, like she’d been waiting for the mont.
"So," she said, folding her legs under her again. "How was it?"
My words stalled.
She raised her brows. "Your presentation."
I tried to act normal. Failed. "It was... fine."
She tilted her head, that little motion she always did when she didn’t believe a single thing I’d just said. "Just fine?"
"Val."
Her smile widened—not forced, not pretending, just warm. "I’m okay," she said quietly. "Really. I told you we weren’t going to win. Today only confird it."
I frowned. "Still..."
> "And I told you to make sure your team did," she reminded gently.
That undid more than anything else. Her voice wasn’t disappointed or tired. It wasn’t bitter. It wasn’t even resigned.
She sounded... proud.
Proud of .
Happy for .
Happy despite everything else.
She leaned forward a little, elbows resting on her knees. "So tell . Everything. Start from when you walked in."
"Val—"
"I want to hear it," she said, voice soft but steady. "All of it."
Sothing in my chest loosened.
So I started talking.
About walking into the boardroom. About the governnt officials. About Hale’s opening speech, Ji-ho’s jokes afterward, Noah’s relief, Tasha’s complete silence during the hardest question. About how Director Hansley reacted, and the mont the older man with the mustache grilled us on the financial models, and how I’d answered. About the way Hale looked at afterward—like for the first ti, he fully understood why he’d chosen .
Val watched the entire ti.
Not blankly.
Not politely.
Like she was listening to the most fascinating story she’d ever heard.
She didn’t interrupt. Not once. Not even to clarify. Her expression shifted between curiosity, amusent, and sothing quieter—sothing only she ever managed to give without saying the words out loud.
When I finished, she exhaled through her nose, a small satisfied sound.
"Kai Tanaka," she said, "you’re going to win this."
I laughed under my breath. "We’ll see."
"We will," she corrected. "On Monday."
She leaned forward and rested her chin on my shoulder for a mont, her hair brushing my cheek, her breath warm against my skin.
And for the first ti since walking out of that building,
I felt it.
Not the relief.
Not the pride.
Not the anticipation.
The certainty.
The quiet, steady kind that only she could give .
The kind that said even before anyone announced a winner... we’d won sothing today.
Sothing bigger than a governnt contract.
Sothing I didn’t have to say out loud.
And she didn’t have to, either.
---
To be continued...
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