Keishin had just finished work, and the two of you sat at the dinner table eating in silence. Well—you were silent. He was happily chewing away, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, were glaring daggers at him from across the table. He didn’t even glance your way.

But he could definitely feel the heat of your stare. The kind that pierced skin.

Keishin finally looked up, still shoveling food into his mouth. His eyes flicked around the room like he was checking for hidden cameras, then landed on you.

“What?” he mumbled, mouth half-full, eyebrows raised in confusion.

You didn’t respond. Just looked away, jaw tight.

He blinked, still trying to figure out what he’d done this time.

Earlier that day, you’d walked past the store and spotted him chatting with some woman. Sure, maybe she was just a customer—but the way they were talking? The way he was laughing? Way too friendly for your liking.

And now here he was, sitting across from you like he didn’t just giggle with some random woman for five straight minutes like a damn schoolboy.

Keishin furrowed his brows, watching you with increasing suspicion.

Why were women so hard to understand?