A Love I Shouldn't Feel
Chapter 144: Chains of Silent Guilt ( 144 )

Chapter 144: Chains of Silent Guilt ( 144 )

Hanako offered one last soft smile, her hand brushing lightly along Kyouko’s shoulder as she passed. Then together, she and her husband exited the restaurant—graceful, composed, and unaware of the storm quietly hidden beneath the surface of their daughter’s heart.

The door shut gently behind them.

Leaving Haruki and Kyouko alone once more... in silence.

The cool evening breeze met them as they stepped out of the restaurant. The soft crash of distant waves echoed from beyond the coastal road.

Kitayama walked with measured steps, one hand in his pocket, the other resting at his side. Hanako followed closely, her shawl draped neatly over her arms. They reached their car in silence.

Once seated inside, the soft click of the doors closing seemed to seal the space into something private—quiet, enclosed.

Hanako fastened her seatbelt, then glanced sideways at her husband.

"Dear?"

Her voice was soft.

"Hmm?" Kitayama responded, his eyes still forward.

Hanako hesitated.

"Any information... from Junichi?"

There was a pause.

Then Kitayama spoke, voice low and certain.

"Yes."

He started the engine, but made no move to drive just yet.

"Looks like what we feared... is true."

Hanako stayed still, listening.

"Satoshi... really does neglect our daughter. Leaves for work early, comes back late—every night. Even now, after becoming the owner of Harusawa Corporation."

Hanako’s lips pressed together. "So what next?"

Kitayama’s hands gripped the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed forward, unblinking.

"We wait. Until the full investigation is done."

"According to Junichi... it seems Satoshi is having an affair. With a younger woman."

Kitayama’s voice settled heavily into the car, firm and grounded.

Hanako exhaled slowly, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Her gaze drifted out the window, where the coastline lights blurred gently in the distance.

"Hmm... so our daughter really did try her best," she murmured, her voice tinged with quiet sorrow. "She held onto her marriage, even when she was the only one trying."

Kitayama nodded once, his tone still calm but heavier now.

"Yeah... our poor daughter. She’s a good woman. Faithful to her vows. Kept her dignity."

Hanako gave a small, wistful smile. "Just look where she got that from~"

Kitayama finally glanced at her. A rare, proud glint in his eyes.

Then—a small grin.

"I know."

As the road gently curved along the coast, the lights from the restaurant disappeared behind them. Inside the car, the atmosphere was calm—just the quiet hum of the engine and the distant sound of the sea.

"Dear?" Hanako’s voice broke the silence softly again.

"Hmm?" Kitayama responded without looking, his eyes still on the road.

"You know..." she said gently, "our granddaughter’s husband... Haruki-kun... he really seems like a good person. Not just polite, but..."

She trailed off, letting the warmth in her voice speak the rest.

Kitayama gave a small nod, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah. I agree."

There was a brief pause.

Then Hanako added, almost to herself, "I saw how happy Kyouko looked tonight."

She looked out the passenger window, her expression calm but thoughtful.

"Even though she doesn’t show it directly... I could see it. Just the little things. Her voice. Her posture. That look in her eyes."

Kitayama said nothing, but his silence was full of agreement.

"Maybe..." Hanako continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "maybe she just wants to cook for someone again. To care for someone. That’s always been her way."

Another quiet pause passed between them.

Hanako spoke again, softer this time.

"Her eyes... and her smile... they aren’t the same as before."

Kitayama glanced at her but said nothing.

"When she first arrived here... she looked tired. Her eyes were dim. There was always something weighing on her,"

Hanako’s voice was steady and thoughtful.

"But tonight..." she exhaled slowly, "she seemed more energetic. I could see it in her face."

Her gaze turned back to the window, a faint warmth in her expression.

"Like she feels... alive again. Like something inside her has quietly lit up."

Kitayama didn’t respond immediately. But the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—just a small, knowing smile.

"That’s good."

Hanako nodded softly, her tone filled with tenderness.

"Yes. It is."

Neither of them spoke further.

And although they didn’t quite understand what had truly awakened their eldest daughter again—what had changed inside her—they were content, for now, simply to see her smiling.

Meanwhile, back in the restaurant...

Kyouko sat still, her posture flawless, her hands folded neatly in her lap. But beneath that calm exterior, her chest was trembling.

She released a soft sigh and lowered her eyes to the half-empty teacup before her.

The echoes of her parents’ footsteps had faded, and the door had closed softly behind them... but their presence still lingered in her heart like a shadow.

Inside her mind, a storm swirled.

If only they had seen it...

If only they had arrived just a little earlier...

If they saw her hand in Haruki’s.

Fingers intertwined.

That quiet, gentle touch they both couldn’t resist.

They would have known.

They would have looked at her with those sharp, questioning eyes and asked—

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you with him, Kyouko?"

And then the real questions would follow.

"Why were you holding hands with him?"

"How far have you gone with your own son-in-law?"

Her throat tightened.

Her hands, resting in her lap, curled inward slightly.

Inside her heart, she could hear the unspoken accusations.

"You already crossed the line, didn’t you?"

"You had sex with him."

"You’re having an affair with your daughter’s husband!"

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t move. She only sat there, trembling silently in the golden evening light, wearing her composure like a shield.

Because the truth was...

Yes.

She had crossed the line.

She had surrendered everything.

She belonged to Haruki now—body, soul, heart.

And if anyone found out... everything would fall apart.

Her mother would shout at her.

Not just in anger—but with bitter disappointment.

"What about responsibility, Kyouko?"

"What about your vows?"

"You were supposed to be loyal!"

Even if her marriage was cold.

Even if Satoshi never looked at her, never touched her, never cared.

She should have endured.

That’s what they would say.

A wife was supposed to be patient.

Supposed to stay dignified.

Supposed to manage loneliness with grace, not with sin.

Even if she cried alone at night.

Even if no one ever asked if she was still alive inside.

She should have found peace in silence.

Should have poured her energy into tea, cooking, tradition.

She should have smiled in public, wept in private, and never once considered an affair—much less with her own son-in-law.

She should have been stronger.

Colder.

Better.

That’s what her mother would say.

That’s what everyone would say.

( End Of Chapter )