Forcing her eyes to trace the glowing text on her tablet, Akira sank deeper into the beautifully woven world of her manuscript, using the pure devotion of her characters to block out the freezing ache in her own heart.
In the chapter she was editing, Fen and Ruoxi were sitting close, wrapped in a casual game of playing cards. The tension was light, but the game had reached its absolute climax. Fen was holding the final two cards in her hand. She knew exactly which card to show to seal her victory, but as she glanced up, she noticed the adorable, intense focus and slight tension on Ruoxi's face.
A soft, knowing smile brushed Fen's lips. Without a second thought, she knowingly threw down the wrong card, deliberately throwing the game away.
"I win!" Ruoxi exclaimed, a bright, childlike happiness instantly washing over her features as she clapped her hands.
Watching Ruoxi's unadulterated joy, Fen felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction settle deep within her chest. She simply sat there, leaning on her palm, looking at her with eyes full of quiet adoration. Ruoxi caught her staring, her laughter softening as she tilted her head in confusion. "Wait... who on earth looks this incredibly happy after losing a game?"
Fen chuckled softly, her voice carrying a profound weight. "I do. I am Fen Tao, after all."
Ruoxi let out a soft gasp, rolling her eyes playfully. "Weirdo."
"It's just a game, Professor," Fen replied, her tone dropping into a warm, comforting register. "Winning or losing doesn't matter here. Because whether I win or you win... it's exactly the same thing. Your victory is my victory."
The sheer, selfless devotion behind those words touched something deep inside Ruoxi's heart. The playful exterior completely melted away. Setting the cards aside on the table, Ruoxi reached out, wrapping her arms securely around Fen's neck, pulling her into a tight, incredibly tender hug.
When they finally broke the embrace, neither of them pulled back completely. They remained breathingly close, their noses almost brushing, the air between them turning heavy with sudden, intoxicating friction. Feeling the sudden intensity, Fen subconsciously tried to lean back slightly, seeking a fraction of space to catch her breath.
But surprisingly, Ruoxi wouldn't let her. She locked her grip, keeping Fen in a hypnotic suspension—neither letting her move away, nor pulling her entirely in.
Fen's breath hitched. Looking directly into Ruoxi's deep, swirling eyes, she whispered in a raw, vulnerable voice, "What is your intentionr? Standing this close... I might completely lose my control."
Ruoxi didn't blink. Leaning in just a millimeter closer, she spoke in a breathless, velvety whisper that vibrated against Fen's lips. "Then... who is stopping you?"
That was the exact validation Fen's heart had been aching to hear.
The last shred of Fen's restraint vanished. With a sudden surge of passion, she gently but firmly pushed Ruoxi backward, laying her down against the soft cushions. Hovering over her, Fen leaned down and captured her lips. The kiss began with a burning intensity, a passionate and deep exchange that was fiercely reciprocated from both sides. Fen's lips moved down, planting soft, scorching kisses along the sensitive skin of Ruoxi's neck, making her gasp, before returning to claim her mouth once more.
As the heat in the room spiraled, Fen's heart hammered violently against her ribs. She felt completely overwhelmed by the roaring tidal wave of her own feelings and emotions. Breaking the kiss for a brief second, she looked down at Ruoxi's flushed, beautiful face, her voice trembling with a deep, consuming desire.
"Ruoxi... I want to see your body."
Hearing the heavy request, a flash of sudden nervousness flickered across Ruoxi's eyes, her posture tensing slightly under the sheets.
Noticing the subtle hesitation, Fen didn't push. Instead of letting her desire override her respect, she immediately softened. She collapsed gently against Ruoxi's side, wrapping her arms around her in a warm, fiercely protective hug, burying her face in her shoulder.
"It's okay," Fen whispered gently, her thumb caressing Ruoxi's arm to soothe her racing pulse. "If you're not ready yet, it's completely okay. For me, just having you here like this... knowing that you are by my side, is more than enough. The absolute best part is simply knowing that we are finally, officially in a relationship."
As Akira immersed herself in the meticulous process of editing, the hours slipped away like sand. The amber light of the afternoon gradually deepened into the heavy, shadowed hues of the evening.
A shadow fell over her desk, and Akira didn't even need to look up to recognize the presence.
"Good evening, Editor," Wei spoke softly, standing right beside Akira's chair, her expression curious but respectful.
Akira finally lifted her gaze, her eyes bloodshot and heavily shadowed by exhaustion. "Don't just stand there. Sit down," she said, her voice sounding raspy and drained.
Wei quietly slid into the chair opposite her. As she did, Akira looked directly into her eyes, her posture losing its usual rigid authority, turning into something raw and incredibly vulnerable. "Wei... I need your company. I need your help."
Wei blinked, a flash of genuine surprise crossing her features. It was rare—almost impossible—to hear Akira ask for anything with such heavy sincerity.
Before Wei could process it, Akira pressed on, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wooden table. "I have to leave for Tokyo in exactly two days. I won't be here around the house, and... Naea will be completely alone. I want you to move back into the house, just like before. I need you to stay with her so she has someone around... so she doesn't feel the crushing weight of being isolated."
Wei frowned slightly, caught off guard by the sudden request. "Wait, but my campus schedule... and the dormitory regulations—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Akira leaned forward, her voice breaking into a desperate, trembling whisper. "Please, Wei... just agree to this. Just do this for me. You have no idea how agonizingly tough it is for me to even breathe right now, knowing that I have to leave her behind. Please, Wei... I am begging you."
Hearing the raw desperation, a chill ran down Wei's spine. She stared at the formidable, untouchable Editor Akira, who was now practically begging her for help. Trying to lighten the suddenly suffocating atmosphere, Wei offered a small, tentative joke. "What do you mean 'you have to go'? Please tell me you're actually coming back, right?"
Akira's heart squeezed violently in her chest. Forcing a fragile, painful lie past her lips, she nodded. "Yes... I will be back in a month. But please, until I return, promise me you will stay right next to Naea. Please."
Seeing Akira's overwhelming, unparalleled concern and care for her partner, it was impossible for Wei—or anyone else—to deny her. The sheer purity of Akira's devotion completely melted Wei's hesitation.
Wei exhaled a soft breath and nodded firmly. "Fine. I'll do it. I'm ready to move in."
Relief washed over Akira so intensely that, surprisingly, she stood up and pulled Wei into a brief, warm, and fiercely tight hug. "Thank you... please, take exceptional care of her," Akira whispered against Wei's shoulder, her voice thick with unspilt tears. "Make sure she never has to face a single worry. And try your best to look after little Naria too. If Naea ever gets angry... she rarely does, but if she does... just sit quietly with her and talk it out. Do not, under any circumstances, leave her alone in that dark mood."
Pulling back from the hug, Akira reached into her coat pocket and slid a neatly folded piece of paper across the table toward Wei. "This contains a list of all of Naea's absolute favorite things—the little things that bring a genuine smile to her face. Support her in those activities, help her find her comfort."
Akira looked at Wei one final time, her eyes burning with an unspoken goodbye. "Please... just guard her. Guard both of them."
Uttering those heavy, final words, Akira abruptly choked on her own breath. "Excuse me... I need to use the restroom," she managed to stammer out before quickly turning away, leaving Wei sitting at the table, completely bewildered and deeply confused by the sheer gravity of the exchange.
The moment the restroom door clicked shut and the lock turned, Akira collapsed against the tiled wall.
Burying her face in her hands, she broke down, weeping violently and silently, her shoulders shaking with an agonizing, uncontrollable grief. The sheer, suffocating pain of her tears could only be understood by a soul who was intentionally transferring the care of their entire universe to someone else... because they knew they might never have the right to look at them again. Akira knew that what she was about to execute in Tokyo over the next few days would change everything. Once the truth came to light, Naea might despise her so deeply that she wouldn't even tolerate looking at Akira's face ever again.
For three agonizing minutes, she let the raw pain tear through her. Finally, she turned on the tap, splashing freezing cold water over her swollen eyes and pale face, forcefully washing away the evidence of her breakdown.
When she stepped back out into the cafe, her expression had reverted back to its icy, unreadable mask. Wei was still waiting patiently at the table.
"You can leave now, Wei," Akira spoke, her tone flat and disciplined. "That was all I needed to tell you."
Wei slowly stood up from her chair. Looking at the lingering redness in Akira's eyes, she didn't ask any questions. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped Akira in a comforting, reassuring hug. "Everything will be okay, Akira," Wei whispered softly, before pulling back and quietly exiting the editing cafe.
Meanwhile, as the clock struck precisely 6:00 PM, the heavy silence back at the house finally began to wear down Naea's resolve. The blinding fog of her morning anger had started to clear, replaced by a sudden, aching emptiness. She missed Akira. Unable to endure the suffocating distance anymore, Naea reached for her phone and dialed Akira's number.
"The number you have dialed is currently switched off..."
The cold, automated voice echoed through the receiver, shattering Naea's attempt at peace.
It was a fatal misstep on Akira's part to keep that phone dead. Seeing the digital rejection, a fresh, even deeper wave of hurt and bitterness washed over Naea's aching heart. Her expression turned incredibly cold as she pulled the phone away from her ear. If Akira was going to let her massive ego drag this silence out to the point of turning her phone off... then fine.
Slamming her phone face down on the counter, Naea made a bitter, definitive resolution of her own—she would never, ever attempt to call Akira again.
Instead of heading back to the sanctuary of her home, Akira chose to remain behind, anchoring herself in the absolute solitude of the editing cafe. As the night deepened, the empty chairs and silent counters became the walls of her self-imposed prison.
Meanwhile, back at the house, the silence had begun to mutate into a heavy, suffocating emptiness for Naea. The emptiness —the sheer hollow void left in Akira's absence—was pressing down on her chest so intensely that her rigid morning resolution began to splinter. Clinging to a fragile, desperate shred of hope, she picked up her phone once more and dialed the number she knew by heart.
This time, the cold automated rejection didn't play. Instead, the line connected, and the phone began to ring.
Akira had purposefully switched her phone back on. It wasn't an act of surrender; it was a brutal, self-inflicted test of her own mental and emotional endurance. She wanted to prove to herself that if Naea called, she possessed the terrifying strength to retain control, to let it ring, and to refuse to accept it. She was trying to force her heart to get used to the separation.
But the moment Naea's name flashed across the screen and the rhythmic vibration rattled against the wooden desk, Akira's carefully constructed armor completely shattered. Her emotional experiment failed catastrophically.
Unable to withstand the agonizing pull of her own feelings, her hand trembled violently as she lunged forward to grab the phone, desperate to answer, desperate to just hear a breath from the other end—
But the ringing abruptly stopped.
The screen blinked, transitioning cruelly into a single, mocking notification: 1 Missed Call.
"No..." Akira whispered into the empty room, her voice a cracked, breathless sob. She stared at the screen, her chest heaving as she pulled her hands back, tightly clenching them into fists. 'No, Akira... no. Control your emotions. Control your feelings...' she fiercely commanded herself, the internal voice screaming through her mind like a mantra of survival.
'Get used to it, Akira. Get used to forgetting the melodic cadence of Naea's voice. Force yourself to forget the soft lines of her face. You have to.'
The sheer horror of that realization—that she was actively forcing herself to erase the only person who gave her life meaning—completely broke her remaining restraint. Slumping forward over the desk, Somehow, through the grueling hours of darkness, both souls dragged themselves through the night. When the morning light finally broke, it brought no relief—only the same, suffocating shroud of absolute loneliness. Akira remained barricaded inside the editing cafe, while Naea woke up to a hollow, empty house.
The weight of the silence was entirely too much for Naea to bear. The moment she sat up, she picked up her phone, desperately typing out messages and dialing Akira's number over and over again.
Cruel destiny was playing a profoundly twisted game of reversal. Years ago, back during their initial days in Osaka, it was Akira who used to send countless unreplied messages, left waiting at the edge of her seat, while Naea would frequently leave them ignored or occasionally read on a cold 'seen' receipt.
But today, despite sharing a life and a home, the distance between them had become a vast, uncrossable ocean. Naea, who had never lowered her pride or chased after anyone in her entire existence, was now frantically flooding Akira's inbox with desperate calls and texts. If the Akira of the past could have witnessed this moment, she would have collapsed from sheer, ecstatic disbelief—or perhaps, she would have brutally beaten her future self for being heartless enough to ignore the very affection she had once starved for.
Trapped at home because she couldn't leave little Naria alone, a frantic Naea suddenly remembered a fragment of a past conversation. Akira had casually mentioned to her once that if her personal cell phone was ever unreachable, she could always try contacting the official counter landline of the editing cafe.
Clinging to this final lifeline, Naea immediately dialed the cafe's number.
Miles away, Akira was standing directly by the front counter, her mind completely numb, when the heavy landline telephone suddenly began to ring. The cafe's shift leader stepped forward and lifted the heavy receiver. "Hello, editing cafe. How can I help you?"
Instantly, Naea's panicked, trembling voice echoed clearly through the earpiece. "Hello? Can I please speak to Editor Akira? Is she there?"
The leader immediately looked up, his eyes locking onto Akira, silently indicating that the call was for her.
Akira froze. Hearing that familiar, breathless voice from across the counter felt like a physical blow to her chest. Her heart screamed at her to snatch the receiver, but her dark, calculated discipline forced her to stay rooted. Looking back at her leader, Akira slowly, deliberately shook her head, her expression blank but her eyes screaming with a tragic plea as she mouthed the word: No.
The leader frowned, heavily disapproving of the silent command. But out of professional obligation, he reluctantly turned back to the receiver, forcing a polite but hollow tone. "I'm sorry, ma'am... Editor Akira is not here at the moment." Without giving Naea a chance to question further, he offered a brief apology and ended the call, placing the receiver back onto the hook with a heavy click.
The silence returned to the counter, thick and suffocating.
Akira didn't utter a single word in her defense. She stood there, absorbing the unfair scolding, letting him believe she was just being petty and proud. She couldn't tell him that it wasn't her ego keeping her away—it was the ticking countdown of a war that had already claimed her peace.