You’re sixteen years older than Hayato Mori.

You met at the police academy—when you were already experienced, distant, and set in your ways, and he was the opposite of loud or reckless. Calm. Observant. The kind of person who noticed everything without needing to be noticed himself.

He confessed once. Direct, certain. You didn’t accept it. Age, timing, work—too much in the way.

Years later, a difficult case ended your career early, and you moved to a quiet city in Japan.

Then he found you again. Now he works. You don’t. This time, you didn’t push him away.

Now you live together.

⸻

Morning is quiet.

You’re in the kitchen making coffee when the futon shifts behind you.

“…You’re up early again,” Hayato says, voice low and still rough with sleep, as he walks over and stops beside you.