That Night — Private Wing, Bride's Chamber
The second ceremony had ended in splendor.The last guest had departed.The photographers had packed up.The estate dimmed, lights lowered, voices fading into sleep.
Aika sat at the edge of the bed in her private bridal chamber, now officially hers.
She had changed out of the gown herself — carefully hanging it behind a sealed silk cover.
Her hair was brushed out. Her makeup removed. She now wore a soft white sleeping robe with embroidery of her family crest stitched at the sleeve. She looked calm. Tired.
She waited.
The futon had already been laid out — a wider marital set, arranged for two.
And still, she waited.
Just like last night.
But unlike last night, there was no sadness in her expression now. Just… resignation.
Then—she heard footsteps.
A soft sliding sound at the door.
He had come.
Renjiro Enters
The door opened with a slow slide.
Renjiro Hayama, in a loosened ceremonial jacket, the scent of fine sake clinging to his skin, stepped inside. His hair was slightly disheveled. His eyes slightly unfocused.
He closed the door behind him, wordlessly.
And then, his gaze found her.
Aika remained seated, composed, hands folded on her lap.
She didn't speak.
But Renjiro's eyes slowly roamed — not with affection… but something deeper.
Hunger.
He was staring at her.
No mask. No audience.
Just him.
And her.
He took a slow step forward.
"You waited," he said, voice rough.
She nodded. "It's our first night."
He said nothing for a beat.
Then another step.
His gaze never left her face.
And for a moment, she wondered—
Will he take her now?Will this finally become real?
She braced herself — not in fear, but in duty.
Because last night, he'd said it clearly:
"If you would just leave, maybe it wouldn't hurt."
And still, she stayed.
Still, she waited.
If this was the price… she would pay it.
But then—
He stopped.
A sudden sway.
And before she could move—Renjiro collapsed, face-first, into the futon.
Dead weight. Fast asleep.
Aika's eyes widened.
"…Renjiro?"
No response.
She knelt down beside him.
Checked his breathing.
Steady. Deep.
And his face — for the first time in months — looked… at peace.
Defenseless.
Like the boy she once remembered from school — the one who smiled easily before the world taught him to frown.
Aika exhaled softly.
Then slowly, gently, began to undo his formal jacket.
She Takes Care of Him
She moved with care — never once waking him.
Removed his coat.Unbuttoned the stiff collar.Helped him into a soft pajama top laid out by the attendants earlier.Folded his suit neatly beside the bed.
Then, in silence, she dressed herself into a soft night robe.
She turned off the lights.
Slid into the futon beside him.
They lay there, back to back.No words.No touch.
But the room felt different.
Not warm.But not cold.
Just… real.
That Morning — Early Light
The first light crept in through the rice-paper window screens.
Aika stirred awake slowly.
She turned her head—
Renjiro was already awake.
Lying on his back. Staring at the ceiling.
Still. Quiet.
Their eyes met briefly.
He blinked, looked away.
Neither of them spoke.
And yet… something had changed.
Just slightly.
Something no one else would see.
But in that space between them — once filled with blame, silence, and sharpness —
There was a pause now.A breath.A thread.
Kyoto — Hayama Estate, Morning After the Ceremony
The wedding was over. The flowers had been cleared. The servants were quieter now. The hum of prestige returned to silence.
There was no honeymoon.
No suitcase by the door.No train tickets.No whispered destination under cherry blossoms or private islands.
Just work.
Renjiro remained in Kyoto for one more day, taking meetings from the Hayama estate office via secure call, his tablet open, stylus tapping, mind already back in the flow of numbers, innovation, global logistics.
Aika had said nothing when he told her.
"No honeymoon," he said that morning, eyes on his phone. "I've got too much pending. You'll be fine here."
She had only nodded.
"Of course. I'll keep myself occupied."
She didn't ask why. Didn't protest.
And somehow… that irritated him more.
Aika's Day — Quiet Observation
Aika did not rest.
Instead, she took a quiet notepad and began learning.
She followed the estate staff schedules.Watched Renjiro's meal patterns.Spoke with the kitchen maids about his tea preferences.Memorized his assistant's calendar.Noted his study hours, his pacing, his usual moods post-meeting.
Not because she was bored.Not because she was desperate.
But because in her mind, this was what a wife did.
She would learn his world—not to control it, but to understand it.
Not to compete.
But to support.
Renjiro — Midday
He found her once, sitting near the kitchen entrance, quietly speaking with a housekeeper about the proper balance of salt in his morning miso.
His eyes narrowed.
"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.
She looked up at him and smiled softly. "I wanted to make sure your meals are how you like them when we're back in Tokyo."
He said nothing.
Just stared.
And walked away.
Inside, his thoughts burned.
So this is what she's become now. A traditional wife. Hovering around like she's meant to serve tea and wear silk slippers. Is this her life now? A rich daughter turned rich bride—learning my breakfast schedule like a loyal dog?
He hated how she made herself fit.
Because part of him feared she would.
And then… he wouldn't be able to push her away.
Afternoon — The Family Speaks
Later, in the main study, Masaki and Eri Hayama sat with Renjiro.
His father's voice was calm, but cool.
"There should've been a honeymoon, Renjiro. Even a short one."
His mother's tone was softer.
"She didn't complain, but she waited all morning for you to say something. And when you didn't… she started learning how to support your life instead."
Renjiro crossed his arms. "I never asked her to."
"You didn't need to," Masaki said firmly. "She's your wife now."
Renjiro looked away. "She's not my life. And I have a company to run."
"Legacy is more than business," Eri said gently. "You may not want her, but don't make her feel like an obligation. She's more than that."
He stood, jaw tight.
"Maybe I'll take her somewhere next month. For the press. If that's what you want."
Masaki didn't stop him as he walked out.
But his father's voice followed him quietly:
"We don't need the press to believe you're married.We need you to believe it."
That Night — Aika's Room
She sat in front of her vanity, brushing her hair.
Alone again.
No conversation. No visit. No acknowledgment.
But still, she whispered to herself:
"This is just a beginning. I will learn him."
And maybe, one day… he would see that she wasn't trying to invade his world.
She was trying to meet him in it.