Chapter 145: Chapter 145

They didn’t understand what it truly felt like.

To be touched after twenty years of silence.

To feel beautiful again.

To feel wanted—not politely, but desperately.

To be held as if she mattered. Kissed as if she were the only woman in the world.

No—they didn’t understand.

They didn’t see what Haruki saw in her eyes.

What his hands did to her body.

What it was like to have someone whisper "I love you" and truly mean it.

And that was why she kept her silence.

That was why she wore her smile like armor.

Because the truth wasn’t something she could explain.

And if anyone found out...

She would lose everything.

How could I resist him?

Kyouko sat quietly, her eyes lowered, her lips calm—yet her heart whispered the truth she could never say aloud.

How could I ever resist Haruki...

When he noticed when I was sick.

When he took me to the hospital—stayed by my side—held my hand.

While her own husband didn’t even know.

How could I resist him...

When Satoshi and Satomi barely touched the food she made.

Never thanked her. Never complimented her cooking.

Meals were routine. Duties. Not love.

Haruki noticed the smallest things.

He praised her. He ate everything.

He made her feel seen.

Satoshi... never gave her gifts.

Not even on birthdays. Not even a card.

No flowers. No words of affection.

There had been no sex—none—since Satomi was born.

Twenty years of being untouched.

Even after they became rich, Kyouko had to ask him for grocery expenses.

She had to adjust. Cut back.

Shop based on numbers, not needs.

As if she were the maid. Not the wife.

So when Haruki entered her life... when he looked at her with eyes that ached for her...

When he kissed her hands. Whispered her name.

Made love to her as if she was the most sacred thing he had ever touched—

How could she resist that?

It wasn’t just about sex.

It wasn’t just about desire.

It was about feeling alive.

About feeling like a woman again.

Now, Kyouko let Haruki devour her.

Because now... she knew.

She was still beautiful.

Still soft. Still warm. Still desirable.

Still a woman worth holding, touching, trembling for.

Made Haruki care for her even more...

Then what was wrong with giving herself to him?

What’s wrong with me bending over for Haruki?

What’s wrong with moaning his name?

With wrapping her legs around him, letting him push deeper—deeper—until she cries?

Is it wrong for me to be happy?

To be fucked so hard I can’t even breathe—

To be kissed like a lover, held like a goddess, worshipped like a secret?

Is it wrong to finally taste everything I was denied my whole life?

The super climax I never believed was real—

The heat, the wetness, the endless waves that shake my body until I cry out into the sheets, my voice cracking, my mind lost.

Satoshi never gave me that.

After over twenty years of silence...

Of being told that being a "good wife" means suppressing yourself until there’s nothing left—

Is it really wrong to finally feel... alive?

She turned her head softly at his voice.

A faint smile touched her lips.

They stood together, the faint hum of the restaurant fading behind them as they stepped into the quiet night air. The breeze from the sea brushed against Kyouko’s skirt, lifting the hem just slightly.

They walked side by side.

Their shoulders were close... close enough to feel each other’s warmth, but not close enough to draw attention.

Her fingers longed to reach out—just to touch his knuckles, to gently wrap around his hand. To walk like a wife beside her husband, even for just a few steps.

She knew Haruki was careful now. Thoughtful. He always protected her, even in the smallest things.

Maybe her parents were still nearby.

Maybe they lingered in the parking lot.

Maybe a neighbor saw them.

Maybe someone they didn’t know was watching.

So Kyouko kept her hands to herself.

But inside her chest—

a quiet ache bloomed.

She wanted to hold his hand.

She wanted the world to know she was his.

Not just behind closed doors.

But even as she held back...

a part of her still smiled.

when the door closed behind them, and the world was shut out—

Like no one else ever had.

And in that quiet space that only belonged to them—

she could reach for him again.

While walking toward the car...

Haruki wanted to hold her hand.

Those soft, delicate fingers—always so warm, always so gentle when they curled around his.

He knew the way they trembled slightly when he kissed her wrist.

He knew how they gripped the bedsheets when she moaned beneath him.

He wanted to take her hand here, outside this quiet restaurant, beneath the golden coastal lights.

He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist—her beautiful, curvy waist—and pull her close.

Let anyone watching know:

He wanted to kiss her cheek.

To press his lips against the side of her face, soft and smooth and so addictively warm.

To hear her breath hitch in that way she always did.

To watch her smile—flustered, radiant.

He wanted to kiss her lips.

Not as a stolen moment.

Not behind locked doors.

But as a man kisses the woman he loves.

The woman he’s proud to stand beside.

His beautiful, graceful Kyouko.

She was walking beside him...

and he was walking beside her.

But deep in his chest, something ached.

He didn’t want to hide anymore.

He wanted to hold her hand.

But Haruki didn’t reach for her hand.

He didn’t touch her waist.

He didn’t kiss her cheek.

Even though he wanted to more than anything.

Because he was worried.

If he showed even the smallest sign of affection here, in public—

Satomi might find out.

Kyouko would be the one in danger.

Blamed for everything, as if she were some seductress.

As if he hadn’t been the one who chased her. Needed her.

If Satoshi found out...

Haruki clenched his jaw slightly.

His own father-in-law.

What if he didn’t let her go?

What if he held her in that house like a prisoner—

quietly, behind those closed, polished doors?

Told her not to go out.

Locked her inside that golden cage she had endured for decades already?

What could Haruki do?

Not while she was still legally married to him.

As long as she wore Satoshi’s name...

as long as the law said she belonged to someone else...

Haruki couldn’t protect her.

The cruel, bitter truth.

He could hold her hand in secret.

Make love to her in the dark.

Kiss her neck when no one was watching.

But he couldn’t keep her safe.

And if he pushed too far.

He might lose her altogether.

Once they were inside the car, the doors shut with a soft click, muffling the sounds of the world outside.

Haruki sat behind the wheel but didn’t start the engine immediately.

He glanced around—the parking lot was dim, quiet, with only a few streetlights casting pools of soft yellow over the asphalt. No one nearby. No watching eyes.

His heart beat a little faster.

He turned toward her.

Kyouko was adjusting her seatbelt.

And in the next moment—he leaned in.

A kiss—deep, slow, hungry.

Not rushed. Not frantic.

But full of the ache he’d carried all night.

The ache of not touching her. Not holding her. Not showing her off as his.

Kyouko gasped softly.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead brushing hers.

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked at him—not angry, not surprised, but calm.

"We shouldn’t do this openly..." she whispered, her voice low, tender. "I’m sorry... please."

Haruki nodded, breathless.

There was a moment of silence.

Then Kyouko smiled softly. Sweet, beautiful.

"Let’s go home~" she said gently.

"You can do anything you want with me later."

Haruki’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

His pulse throbbed in his throat.

She always knew exactly what he needed to hear.

Without another word, he turned the key, the engine humming to life.

They drove off into the dark, heading toward their quiet little seaside house.