The sounds downstairs continued — wet, heavy thrusts, loud moans, the rhythmic plap-plap-plap of skin on skin. Misaki stood frozen at the slightly open door, heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. Every filthy word she heard was like a knife twisting in her chest.
Hina's mother's confession hit her like a bolt of lightning.
Misaki's eyes widened. Her mind spun. She had always believed Yuta's mother died years ago. But now… now she heard that he still talked to her. That he still saw her. That he was broken in ways no one had ever guessed.
Yuta's father's voice came next, low and pained.
Misaki's face went pale. She turned slowly to Yuta, who was still standing at the door, body rigid, eyes wide and glassy.
He wasn't breathing normally.
He was trembling. Violent, full-body tremors. His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. Then, in a fast, broken whisper that echoed in the dark hallway, he repeated the same words over and over like a prayer or a curse:
