Chapter 277: Chapter 277

Kyouko never complained.

She never said anything.

Never raised her voice.

Never got angry at him.

She simply... stayed.

Holding their marriage together like fine thread in the wind.

She remained faithful, even as he trampled everything sacred between them.

She kept the home standing.

Kept the family’s image intact.

Satoshi walked slowly down the hallway, the sound of his own footsteps dull against the polished wooden floor.

It hadn’t changed in years.

And on the wall... still there, undisturbed.

Kyouko in a pristine white modern gown, modest and elegant.

Him, beside her, in a tuxedo.

That wedding, he had chosen the style.

He wanted it modern, glamorous.

Not a Shinto ceremony.

No kimonos, no shrines, no torii gates.

He remembered she simply smiled and agreed.

And as he looked into the still photo... the memories returned.

Back when they had just gotten married.

When everything still felt warm.

When she would see him off in the morning, packing his briefcase with quiet care.

And at night, when he returned, tired, perhaps irritable from work—she was always there.

Soft slippers waiting.

A gentle smile on her lips.

No questions that drained him.

And he... never knew how rare that was.

And everything began to change... slowly.

When Satomi was born.

Their routines shifted.

He was still working with another company then.

Coming home late. Exhausted.

Their kisses grew less frequent.

Then stopped entirely.

Not because of anger.

But because they both just... faded into their roles.

Kyouko as the gentle mother.

He, the man chasing promotions.

They still lived in the old rented house back then.

Cramped. Dim. But filled with something warm.

Then, when Satomi turned seven.

He remembered that moment clearly.

She was playing with her toys when she suddenly asked,

"Papa, why don’t you have your own company?"

The question had lingered in his mind longer than it should have.

Later that night, he brought it up to Kyouko.

And as always, she had listened.

Then nodded with that soft smile of hers and said,

"If it’s your dream... I’ll support you."

Opened a small office, tiny, barely furnished, no real staff.

Building something from nothing.

That was what he told himself.

But the struggle was real.

Months passed. And there was nothing.

No clients. No projects. Just debts.

Kyouko never blamed him.

Never cried in front of him.

Instead.....she sold her jewelry.

Everything he had ever gifted her during their early years.

Necklaces. Bracelets. Even her wedding ring.

And when he came home one night, collapsing onto the couch, defeated.

She greeted him with warm tea and said softly,

"Don’t worry, dear. Your company... it will get a contract soon. I believe in you."

That same smile he used to take for granted.

And just like she said...

A week later, it happened.

A representative from the Takahashi Group walked into his office.

Polite. Formal. Wearing a dark suit and a calm smile.

He remembered blinking in disbelief.

He thought it was a mistake.

A small, struggling firm like his shouldn’t even be on their radar.

A contract, signed and stamped. Clean. Generous. Perfect.

His first major project.

The one that pulled him from the edge.

The one that built his foundation.

He never knew why they chose him.

He was too overwhelmed. Too focused on rising.

That night, when he rushed home with the paperwork in hand...

Kyouko was already setting dinner on the table.

He told her the news.

How Takahashi Group had come.

How they offered him something no one else had.

That same gentle smile.

As if she’d already known.

As if she had never doubted it.

She set the bowl of soup in front of him and said softly,

"I told you, didn’t I? Everything will be alright."

She was his lucky charm.

That’s what he thought.

When he still believed she would always be there.

And from that day on...

His company began to rise.

And Kyouko....always there.

Supporting him from the shadows.

Becoming his quiet, constant lucky charm.

She never asked for recognition.

Never asked for more.

She just... remained.

They moved into a new house.

Spacious. Clean. Expensive.

Satomi had been excited back then, running through the halls, laughing.

Saying things like, "We’re rich now, Papa!"

He remembered smiling.

Pride swelling in his chest.

And still....Kyouko was there.

Still preparing meals.

Still folding his shirts.

Still that same woman.

And in all that noise of success... he forgot something.

Something small, but precious.

He had never bought it back.

She had sold it to save his dream.

And while he had money, and growth, and pride.

She had quietly carried on without the symbol that once bound them.

When everything shattered.

She had bought it back.

While he... he never even thought of it.

He saw it in her hand..

The moment she discovered him and Satomi.

Kyouko had just returned from the hospital.

She had gone there because Satomi asked her to care for Haruki, ho was still unconscious in a hospital bed.

And when she came home...

Eyes calm, but distant.

And she took off that wedding ring.

The same one she once sold for his sake.

The same one she quietly bought back, believing it still had meaning.

A single, clean motion.

Just that small sound.

And in her eyes... a quiet sadness.

And now... she was gone.

Not just out of the house.

Not just out of his life.

She no longer wanted him.

There was no more warmth in her voice when she spoke to him.

He stood still in the dim room, eyes drifting again to the framed wedding photo on the wall.

The one where she smiled softly, standing beside him in that white dress.

Back when everything was simple.

And then, his mind went back to that call.

The one he made, on a quiet night not long ago.

When he dialed her number out of impulse, longing, regret, loneliness... he didn’t know which.

And she had answered.

The soft, trembling sound she made.

A sound once meant only for him.

A sound he hadn’t heard in decades.

She was with someone.

And it shattered something in him.

Because that voice no longer belonged to him.

It belonged to another man.

A man she now gave herself to.

And the recent message she sent him.

"Move on from the past already."

As if she was gently closing a door.

No hatred. No resentment.

And now, all that was left.

Large. Silent. Empty.

The sound of the maids cleaning already faded.

No one left to pretend for.

With the weight of everything he threw away.