Talking with yor

After the heartwarming conversation with Kenta, Yor felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and closeness towards him. Not just for being an exceptional father, but also for being a steadfast partner in every sense. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster, and the weight of their shared responsibilities as parents had deepened their bond.

The warmth in her gaze was evident, and Kenta could feel the sincerity radiating from her. Kenta is thinking

"Kenta," she whispered softly, "Thank you. For everything."

He met her gaze, the usual stoic walls around him faltering just a bit. There was a vulnerability there, a depth of feeling that he often kept guarded.

Feeling the magnetic pull between them, Yor leaned in, pressing her lips gently against his in a tender kiss. The world around them faded as they lost themselves in the moment, seeking solace and comfort in each other's embrace.

Kenta's stoicism rarely wavered, but this evening, it was evident that something weighed heavily on his mind. He stared into the distance, the hardness in his eyes replaced with a fleeting hint of vulnerability.

"Why even bother with a family, Yor?" Kenta's voice was devoid of emotion, just as always. "Why have children if they might just turn their backs when times get hard?"

Yor, not easily fazed by Kenta's cold demeanor, met his gaze evenly. "Life isn't about guarantees, Kenta. It's a series of risks and choices. We chose to have a family, not as an insurance policy for the future, but as a testament of our journey together."

Kenta's gaze was piercing, analytical. "But the world values success. Power. Money. What if I can't provide? What if I lose everything?"

Yor, always the anchor in their relationship, replied firmly, "Then we adapt. We find a way. Our worth isn't determined by what's in our bank account. It's about the bond we've built and the values we instill in Anya."

Kenta's usual impassive tone took on a hint of bitterness. "All these clichéd sentiments, Yor. People parrot them, but what's the genuine worth of marriage? It feels more like chains than anything else. And trust? In my experience, that's just another word people use till they find a reason to break it. In the end, you're truly on your own."

Yor, always direct and unflappable, replied without hesitation, "Then why did you marry me, Kenta? If you believe it's all chains and deception?"

Kenta's cold gaze met hers. "Because, in a world of uncertainties, you were the one thing that made sense. But that doesn't mean I blindly trust the institution or the world."

Yor crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her stance. "You're right. The world isn't trustworthy. But we're not 'the world', are we? We're two individuals who made a choice. Whether that's a chain or a bond is up to how we see it."

Kenta's rigid posture relaxed just a fraction, "I just don't want us to become one of those mundane stories."

"And we won't," Yor asserted. "Not if we continue challenging each other like this."

Kenta's usual impassive tone took on a hint of bitterness. "All these clichéd sentiments, Yor. People parrot them, but what's the genuine worth of marriage? It feels more like chains than anything else. And trust? In my experience, that's just another word people use till they find a reason to break it. In the end, you're truly on your own."

Yor, always direct and unflappable, replied without hesitation, "Then why did you marry me, Kenta? If you believe it's all chains and deception?"

Kenta's cold gaze met hers. "Because, in a world of uncertainties, you were the one thing that made sense. But that doesn't mean I blindly trust the institution or the world."

Yor crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her stance. "You're right. The world isn't trustworthy. But we're not 'the world', are we? We're two individuals who made a choice. Whether that's a chain or a bond is up to how we see it."

Kenta's rigid posture relaxed just a fraction, "I just don't want us to become one of those mundane stories."

"And we won't," Yor asserted. "Not if we continue challenging each other like this."

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier, and even Yor, usually so unyielding, felt the weight of Kenta's words.

He looked away, his stoic demeanor cracking just slightly. "I could lie to you about it, pretend everything's fine," Kenta began, his voice low, almost introspective. "But what's the point? It won't benefit me. Honestly, I don't care about perceptions or judgments, not even yours."

Yor watched him intently, waiting.

"After reaching my goals, the ones I've tirelessly pursued, I feel...lost," he confessed. "I thought I'd find satisfaction, fulfillment. But instead, I feel more adrift than ever. Like a vagabond with no destination."

Yor's voice was soft, yet firm when she finally spoke, "Kenta, reaching a goal is an achievement, but it's not the end. It's a milestone in the journey, not the journey itself. Sometimes, the emptiness you feel is the space for new aspirations, new dreams."

Kenta looked at her, his usually sharp eyes clouded with uncertainty. "But what if this is all there is? What if I've reached the pinnacle, and now there's just... nothing?"

Yor took a step closer, bridging the distance between them. "Then, we find a new mountain to climb. Together. That's what we've always done. We adapt, we evolve. You're not alone in this, Kenta."

Their conversation, deep and revealing, was a testament to their bond.

Kenta's gaze bore into Yor's with an intensity she had grown accustomed to over the years. "Why?" he began, his voice low and measured. "Why do you stay, even when I'm clearly unempathetic and often distrustful, even towards you and Anya?"

Yor met his gaze unflinchingly, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Because," she began, her voice steady, "life isn't about seeking someone perfect. It's about understanding and accepting imperfections. I see beyond the walls you've built, Kenta. I see the moments, however fleeting, when you let your guard down, when you care in your own unique way. I stay because I believe in us, in what we've built, and what we can continue to build together."

A hint of amusement flashed across Kenta's usually impassive face. "You always have a way with words, Yor. I must admit, you've earned my respect, which isn't easily given."

Yor smirked slightly, acknowledging his compliment.

However, Kenta's expression turned serious again, "But remember this, Yor. As much as I respect and even care for you in my own way, I won't ever fully trust anyone. It's just who I am."

Yor nodded, understanding the complexities of the man before her. "And that's your choice, Kenta. But know this, I'll always be here, trust or no trust."

The tension between Kenta and Yor was palpable. The room was charged with an intensity that had built up over time, an inevitable confrontation between two strong-willed individuals.

"You know, Yor," Kenta began, his voice cold and cutting, "I play my part in this family. I act as a father should, and I do what's expected. But if you or Anya ever decide to go behind my back, that's on you. Don't expect my trust when you give me reasons to doubt."

Yor, never one to back down, met his gaze directly. "Trust is a two-way street, Kenta. You can't demand it while offering none in return. If you've chosen to trust no one, then you must also accept the consequences of that decision. We're a family, and that requires mutual respect and trust."

Kenta's eyes narrowed, his typically impassive face betraying a hint of emotion. "I've seen what trust can lead to, Yor. Betrayals, disappointments. I won't be a victim of that."

Yor sighed, a mix of frustration and understanding. "Kenta, we're not out to betray you. But you have to let us in. You can't keep us at arm's length and expect a deep connection."

Kenta looked at Yor, his walls momentarily crumbling, "It's not that easy for me."

Yor reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "I know. But we're here, willing to work through it. The question is, are you?"

Kenta's critique, as biting as it was, hit Yor unexpectedly. "Also," he added with his typical blunt tone, "you might want to take up some cooking lessons. Your attempts at dinner... well, they need improvement."

Yor's eyes widened, and her cheeks burned a bright shade of red. As a woman who prided herself on her abilities, being told her cooking was subpar was a low blow. "I... I try my best," she stammered, her voice reflecting her surprise and embarrassment.

Kenta looked at her, a small smirk forming. "I know you do. But instead of getting all flustered about it, why not learn? Get better at it?"

She pouted, still a tad flustered. "I'm not some delicate flower, Kenta. But maybe... maybe you're right."

Kenta leaned in slightly, his voice a shade softer. "I've seen you tackle far greater challenges, Yor. This? This is just another skill to master. And I have every bit of faith you can."

She met his eyes, the blush still evident on her cheeks but determination sparkling in her gaze. "Fine, challenge accepted. But next time, maybe phrase it a bit more... gently?"

Kenta chuckled, " No promises, though."