Temporary

 Balcony, at Night

 The neon lights in the distance shimmer on the rain-slicked streets, casting broken reflections like memories scatter across time. A chilly breeze slips through the balcony rails, brushing past with a gentle whisper.

 Yuna leans back in her chair, slowly swirling the wine in her glass. The liquid catches the light, glinting like fragments of thoughts she cannot quite grasp.

 Opposite her, Hiroki sits with a cigarette between his fingers. He tilts his head slightly, quietly watching the smoke curl up and vanish into the night sky.

 She has just finished telling him everything—about the divorce papers, about Ryusei, about the reason she still struggles to accept as real. Hiroki does not interrupt, does not offer opinions. He only smokes in silence, letting her sort through the mess in her own time.

 Eventually, it is Yuna who speaks first.

 "So… that's how it ends."

"That's how it ends, huh…"

"You're still working at the office?"

Hiroki flicks ash into the tray, his gaze still on the city below.

"Yeah. It pays the bills for now."

"What about… HIMrs6? You're not going back?"

He does not answer right away. He takes a long drag from the cigarette, exhales slowly.

"Not yet."

 Reality still feels a bit too far away.

She takes a sip of wine—sharp and bitter as it slides down her throat.

"What about you?" Hiroki asks.

"I…" she hesitates, eyes on her glass as if answers float at the bottom. "I'm thinking of doing translation work. Books, documents, maybe stories. I haven't decided fully, but… I think it suits me."

He smiles quietly, voice low and warm. "It does. You've always been good at that."

Somehow, those words ease a weight off her chest.

Silence settles over them again—but this time, it is not heavy.

Just the hum of traffic below, the whisper of wind, and the faint crackle of a burning cigarette between them.

Yuna's glass has long since emptied. The alcohol courses through her, blurring edges that is already thin. She looks at Hiroki—still there, still calm, the glow of his cigarette pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.

That old longing rises in her again.

Without a word, she stands and steps over. In one swift move, she straddles his lap, her legs on either side of him.

 Hiroki tenses, but does not push her away. He simply looks at her, quietly, as if asking what she needs.

The scent of smoke clings to him, mingling with the wine on her breath. She leans in, lips brushing his neck—warm skin, steady pulse beneath.

He still does not stop her. His hands rest gently on her waist, waiting.

And then he leans forward too.

Their breaths meet—hot, slow, and heavy.

That first kiss is not rushed. It is a gentle answer, a quiet fire. His fingers tangle in her hair, drawing her in. They melt into each other, into the heat and confusion and need.

 But—

 The night wind still sweeps in, sharp against sweat-damp skin.

 Suddenly, Yuna pauses. Her body trembles. She leans her forehead against Hiroki's, breath shaky and warm on his ear.

 He kisses her cheek, his voice rough. "Let's go inside."

 She nods faintly.

 He lifts her gently, her legs tightening around his waist. Their kiss continues, deep, searching, unbroken, as they move from the balcony to the bed. They hold on to each other like lifelines.

 The night stretches long ahead. Call it what you will—need, solace, longing—but they only know this: right now, they need each other more than anything else. 

 They are two pieces of a puzzle, clinging not out of desire, but out of fear—fear of letting go again.

 More afraid of losing than of being distant.

 The next morning, soft sunlight pours gently through the window, casting a warm glow over the quiet room.

 Hiroki stirs from sleep, enveloped in a strange yet comforting warmth.

 He blinked slowly, only to find Yuna lying atop him, her body curled gently against his, her eyes half-lidded, her long hair cascading over his chest like silk.

 She looks at him for a long time—really looks—her eyes tracing the lines of his face as if trying to memorize them.

 Her fingertips follow suit, gently outlining his features like a painter sketching with air.

 When their eyes finally meet, hers hold a quiet storm, something vast and unspoken crashing beneath the surface.

 There is something both unfamiliar and achingly familiar in the way she leans down. Her lips brush against his skin, soft and unsure, like a question posed in silence.

 Hiroki can feel the hesitation in her every movement—just as he feels his own. Neither of them wants to break whatever fragile moment is blooming between them. Neither wants to move too fast, to do anything that might send the other retreating.

 He lifts his hand slightly, instinctively wanting to draw her closer. But before he can, Yuna pulls back just enough to look at him again—cautious, yes, but with a fire in her gaze that makes his breath catch.

 Then, without a word, she kisses him again—deeper this time, with a certainty that melts away the remaining distance.

 They are almost whole again. Just one final step remains.

 Yuna reaches for his hand, guiding it to her cheek. Her skin is warm under his palm.

 She closes her eyes, leaning into his touch, and a soft, gentle smile curves her lips. Her eyes gleam with something tender, almost luminous.

 Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she exhales a sigh so light it feels like a feather brushing past him. She lets the silence hold them, lets the moment settle.

 Then, her voice—barely a whisper—comes through, soft and full of feeling:

 "Thank you, Hiroki. Thank you for waiting for me... for everything."

 Hiroki doesn't move at first. Her words wash over him, quietly disarming. He tilts his head back, overwhelmed, and chuckles under his breath—so wide is his grin, he has to raise a hand to hide it.

She has chosen him. At last.

….

 Since Yuna begins working as a translator, her life falls gradually into a steadier rhythm. The debts that once weigh heavily on her shoulders are now cleared. She no longer lives in constant fear of money running out.

 Of course, things aren't exactly easy. But at the very least, she can support herself—living on her own terms. And more importantly, she is no longer alone.

 She has Hiroki.

 She has Takano.

 She has the few people who stay by her side through it all.

 After learning that Yuna lives nearby, Takano naturally becomes something of a neighborly constant. Now and then, she drops by, carrying home-cooked meals or small treats.

 Yuna herself starts visiting Takano more often too—sometimes just to spend time with little Shin, holding the boy in her arms and feeling the kind of quiet warmth and strength that surprises her.

 That tiny boy is now two years old, walking on his own little feet. Other times, she simply helps out around the house—or they just sit and talk about life. Nothing big, just the small things.

 After hearing about the divorce papers, Takano urges her to go through with it, telling her in all sincerity:

 "Don't waste another minute on that man. Just sign the damn thing—think of it as finally laying your burdens down. You've got Hiroki now. He'll be there for you when it gets hard."

 Yuna spends a long time mulling it over. Eventually, she contacts Ryusei again to finalize the matter.

 The phone rings several times before it is picked up.

 "Hello?"

 Ryusei's voice comes through—low, calm. Not cold, but distant.

 Yuna tightens her grip on the phone, taking in a quiet breath.

 "It's me."

 "I know."

 Silence lingers between them. Maybe it is because they both already know what this call is for—there is no use pretending otherwise.

 "I've reviewed the documents. Legally, there are just a few steps left."

 "I know," he replies evenly. "If you need anything, just let me know. I'll have my lawyer handle it quickly."

 She bites her lip.

 He has prepared everything—both legally and emotionally. His voice carries no trace of regret, no lingering hesitation.

 "I'll arrange a time to sign. Maybe this weekend."

 "Sure. I'm free."

 "…I thought, maybe, this would be a little harder."

 He doesn't say anything right away. Then, after a pause, he speaks quietly—but firmly:

 "I don't want to drag it out, Yuna. This decision is always yours to make."

 She presses her lips together, fingers curling into her knees, knuckles pale.

 As if she has a choice.

 As if it hasn't been him—and her—who makes it inevitable.

 "I understand."

 "…Thank you," he says gently. "For not making this more complicated."

 Yuna doesn't respond. For a moment, she wants to say something—maybe a parting remark, maybe just a final goodbye. But she doesn't.

 "I'll hang up now.", instead, she said, controlling her emotions.

 "Okay. Take care."

 "You too..."

 "..."

 "...?"

 "…Hey"

 "—Yeah?"

 "Nothing... Goodbye."

 The line goes dead. Only the empty dial tone remains—stretching out the space between two people who once belong to each other.

 Ryusei has clearly moved on with someone new, and Yuna has no intention of interfering or looking back. She silently wishes him well. Time will give each of them what they deserve. There is no reason to keep carrying pain that isn't hers anymore.

 But just as her mind begins to feel more stable, Yuna's body starts to show signs of giving in.

 She finds herself tired more often than not, with sudden spells of dizziness and nausea.

 At times, she feels so drowsy it is hard to keep her eyes open, even in the middle of the day. And yet, nights bring no peace—her sleep is fractured by violent nightmares, blood-soaked and jarring, jolting her awake drenched in cold sweat.

 She doesn't think much of it at first—and doesn't tell Hiroki either. Most of her time is spent curled up alone in her room.

 That night, when the cramps become too sharp to ignore, Yuna sits up trembling and instinctively touches her abdomen. A sinking dread stirs in her chest. She stumbles out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom.

 The white light from above feels blinding against the cold tiles.

She pulls back the fabric of her underwear.

 Blood.

 It's just a hormonal thing.

 It's probably nothing serious…

 She stares at the dark smudges staining her trembling fingertips. With shaking hands, she scrubs at the blood under the faucet, skin raw from the friction.

 But Hiroki quickly notices something isn't right.

 The way she winces and holds her stomach, her absent stares at dinner, the nights she curls up in bed looking pale and fragile. But whenever he asks, she brushes it off—insisting she is fine, even when he presses her to be honest.

 Truth is, Yuna herself can't explain what is happening to her.

 One night at dinner, he pushes again:

 "You need to tell me what's going on. Or at least go see a doctor."

 She knows he is only worried. But she fears he will start fussing over her again like before—sacrificing everything just to take care of her.

 "I'm fine… If it gets worse, I'll ask Takano for help."

 That week, her fever spikes. After just a few days of recovery, her condition takes another dip. In the end, she has to call Takano over. Her friend arrives with hot porridge, gently wiping her down with warm towels.

 She even brings over medical supplies and sets up an IV line in Yuna's arm. On the days Hiroki has to be away, Takano stays with her—monitoring her, administering fluids two or three times a week.

 Even so, as her illness lingers, the date to finalize the divorce approaches.

 Unlike last time, Takano tells her not to rush—says that stressing out will only make things worse. But maybe it is because she has been sick for so long that Yuna feels the urge to get it done.

 The papers are signed.

 The love has faded.

 Isn't it better to end it clean, once and for all?

…

 It is a gray, overcast day.

 The district courthouse feels far too large, almost suffocating to Yuna.

 All that remains now are the final procedures for the divorce. She and Ryusei complete each step in silence. No words are exchanged—only the rustling of papers and the cold, sharp thud of official stamps echo in the room.

 Divorce, when both parties agree, is not a complicated process. Just fill out the necessary forms, submit them to the local government office, and wait for confirmation. No court battles, no custody disputes, no property negotiations. They never have children.

 When the clerk bows slightly and announces, "Everything is now finalized," a strange emptiness swells in Yuna's chest.

 It is over.

 Their marriage has officially ended.

 She stands up, bows politely, and turns to leave—but Ryusei's voice stops her in her tracks.

 "Yuna…"

 Her steps falter.

 "Be happy."

 His voice echoes softly down the empty hallway as he walks away. Yuna catches the faintest trace of a laugh under his breath—dry and unreadable.

 Be happy?

 The man she once loves most has betrayed her, and now he is blessing her happiness like some benevolent stranger?

 She doesn't look back. Instead, a pale smile tugs at her lips. Then she walks on.

 Outside the courthouse, the pale daylight stings her eyes. She squints upward. Rain is coming—soft spring drizzle, the kind that barely soaks but lingers all day. The trees are budding. Tiny flower buds swell on the branches. It might be the sign of a new beginning—something she has longed for.

 And yet, that beginning still feels so far away, like a mist she can't quite step into.

 Then she sees them.

 Irumi stands close to Ryusei, her body leaning into his, one hand curled around his arm while the other plays with the hem of his suit jacket.

 She whispers something in his ear, and they both burst into laughter—warm, intimate, completely unbothered.

 So they aren't even pretending anymore.

 They look every bit the perfect couple. That woman has claimed everything—naturally, as if it has always belonged to her.

 Yuna swallows the bitterness welling in her throat. She won't break down now. Her hand clenches into a fist as she turns away.

 She has signed the papers.

 She has chosen to let go.

 Across the street, a familiar car catches her eye.

 Leaning casually against a streetlamp is Hiroki, his gaze calm and steady as it follows her. There is something soft in his eyes—something that tells her she doesn't have to be strong anymore.

 Her lips tremble. She has no more strength left to pretend. Her footsteps quicken until she finally breaks into a run—straight into his arms.

 Hiroki catches her, holding her tight—solid, grounded. His embrace feels like a harbor, pulling all the pain inside her into the quiet safety of his chest.

 Pulling back slightly, Hiroki searches her face with careful eyes.

 "Are you still feeling pain? Dizzy at all?"

 "A little sore, that's all," she answers honestly.

 "And... was everything finalized?"

 She nods. "Smooth from start to finish."

 His gaze holds nothing but understanding, and somehow, it eases the tightness in her chest. She feels like someone who has just come up for air after a long time underwater.

 "If there's nothing left holding you back," he says gently, "how about we go home?"

 "Of course there's nothing left," she says firmly, almost defiantly. Then adds, "But on the way, can you stop by a pharmacy?"

True to his word, Hiroki pulls up to a nearby pharmacy. After stepping out, Yuna returns with a small paper bag in hand. She says nothing as they drive back.

Once home, she goes straight to her room and places a few bottles of supplements on her desk.

Then, with trembling fingers, she reaches into the bottom of the paper bag and quietly pulls out what she's really gone there for. A pregnancy test.

 She walks into the bathroom and locks the door. Her breath shakes as she tears open the wrapper and follows the instructions step by step:

 — Collect urine in the small cup.

— Dip the strip to the marked line.

— Wait three minutes.

Three minutes.

And yet, it feels like an eternity.

 She sits on the toilet, eyes fixed on the strip as faint lines begin to form. A dull ache twists through her lower abdomen, sharp enough to make her double over. Her vision blurs.

One line.

Then… a second.

Two clear lines. No room for doubt.

She is pregnant.

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