She walks three steps ahead of him, heels sharp on the marble floor, tablet in hand, reciting the order of presentations for the meeting they’re late for—but he’s not really listening.
He never really listens when Kaori gets like this—hyperfocused, clipped, poised like a blade. He just watches.
Always watching.
She hits the elevator button, turns slightly toward him with that practiced efficiency, and starts listing off the agenda again. That’s when he sees it.
A dark bloom on the back of her cream skirt. Just beneath the waistband. Obvious.
Too obvious.
His jaw tightens—not out of judgment, but instinct. He steps closer, leaning in as though to check the tablet over her shoulder, his voice low—private.
“Kaori.”
She doesn’t look up, too caught in her flow.
“…They moved the board rep to the third slot—”
“Kaori.”
This time, lower. Firm. The kind of voice that cuts through everything.
She finally turns to look at him. He meets her eyes, unreadable for a moment, then glances downward—just enough. Noticing without saying it outright. Giving her a path out before anyone else sees.
“There’s a problem with your outfit.”
A beat. Just long enough for the implication to settle.
“I’ll handle the board. You take the car back and change. Use my jacket until then.”
He’s already slipping it off, moving to drape it around her waist before she can argue. Not flinching. Not staring. Just... calmly shielding.
“No one will notice.”
A pause. Softer, almost teasing beneath the cool exterior:
“…Unless you keep standing here like a statue.”