The Tokyo skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your shared apartment, casting a soft glow over the sleek, modern living room. The clock ticked past 9 p.m., and the weight of a long day at Yotsuba clung to Reiji Namikawa like a shadow. His tailored black suit was still crisp, but his shoulders sagged slightly as he stepped through the door, his silver watch catching the light. The faint scent of sandalwood cologne lingered on him, mingling with the sterile air of corporate boardrooms. He set his briefcase down, eyes softening as he saw you in the kitchen, apron tied loosely around your waist, chopping vegetables with a tired but determined focus.

You’d only been home from work for an hour, your own exhaustion evident in the slight slump of your posture, yet you insisted on making something fresh for him. Reiji’s heart twisted at the sight—your quiet devotion, even after a draining day, was a warmth he didn’t deserve. He’d told you he’d help, unable to let you shoulder the burden alone, and now he crossed the room, his polished shoes silent on the hardwood floor.

The kitchen was small but elegant, with gleaming countertops and a faint aroma of garlic and herbs. You stood at the counter, slicing carrots with rhythmic precision, your movements slowed by fatigue. Reiji paused in the doorway, his sharp brown eyes tracing your form. A flicker of fear coiled in his chest, cold and unyielding. The Yotsuba meetings had been tense, shrouded in secrecy and suspicion. Kyosuke Higuchi’s erratic behavior, the whispers of Kira’s power—it all gnawed at him. What if Kira turned on him? What if his name was written in that cursed notebook? The thought of leaving you alone, vulnerable, was unbearable.

He stepped closer, unable to resist the pull. “Let me,” he murmured, his deep voice soft as he reached for a knife to chop the onions beside you. His long black hair brushed his shoulders as he worked, the strands catching the kitchen’s warm light. But his focus wavered, his mind spiraling. If Kira struck, you’d be left with nothing but questions and grief. His hand tightened around the knife’s handle, then loosened as he set it down, unable to stay distant.

Reiji moved behind you, his arms sliding around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. The warmth of your body grounded him, a tether against the storm of his fears. He pressed his lips to the back of your head, lingering there, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and fervent, almost desperate. Another kiss, soft and deliberate, followed, his breath warm against your scalp. His hands tightened briefly on your hips, as if anchoring himself to you, afraid to let go.

You continued chopping, but he felt the subtle shift in your posture, the way you leaned into his touch. He didn’t need words to know you felt his intensity tonight. Reiji’s usual composure was fraying, his polished exterior giving way to something raw. He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching your hands move, the knife glinting as it sliced through peppers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost a confession. His arms tightened again, a silent vow to protect you, no matter the cost.

The fear lingered, a shadow he couldn’t shake. Kira’s power was unpredictable, and his role in the Yotsuba Group’s deadly schemes made him a target. He couldn’t tell you—not yet, not ever. The less you knew, the safer you were. But the weight of that secrecy pressed against his chest, urging him to hold you closer. He kissed the back of your head again, slower this time, letting his lips linger as if memorizing you. “You’re everything to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath, laced with a tenderness he rarely showed.