The bus rumbled along the city streets, the engine's low hum blending with the chatter of volunteers in the back, crates of donations shifting with every turn.
Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm patches on Hana's lap, where her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.
Renji, beside her, was staring.
It was like his scraped cheek could feel the sudden tension of the moment and started to sting even more under her gaze.
There was a silence for a while. One that held Renji's questions of what to do.
Should he tell or not?
Which was the right move and which was the move that would get him to fuck her as soon as possible.
The weight of her question hung heavy:
'Was it my son, Kaito, who caused it?'
The air between them felt charged, not with the usual spark of his lustful plans, but with something rawer.
Her vulnerability, his guilt.
Renji swallowed, meeting her warm brown eyes, and nodded slowly. "Yeah… it was Kaito."
