A Love I Shouldn't Feel-Chapter 215: Hidden Truths ( )

The taxi pulled up in front of the Harusawa residence.

Kyouko reached into her purse, gracefully took out her wallet, and paid the fare.

"Thank you very much," she said softly, bowing politely.

"Have a good day, ma’am," the driver replied as she stepped out.

Kyouko turned toward the gate, heels quiet against the pavement. She reached into her purse again and retrieved the gate remote.

A soft mechanical click, and the gate slowly slid open.

She stepped inside and closed it behind her with care.

Her eyes immediately caught the sight of Satoshi’s car parked in the driveway.

Hmm?

He’s home?

Then her gaze moved toward the second car.

Satomi too?

They’re both not working today?

She glanced down at the time on her phone.

11:30 a.m.

Her brow subtly furrowed.

That’s late...

Did they oversleep?

Even on weekdays, Satoshi usually leaves by nine.

She looked up and glanced at the alarm box mounted near the front door.

OFF.

Hmm...

Maybe they’re both still sleeping...

Kyouko didn’t rush.

She reached into her purse, took out the house key, and unlocked the door quietly.

The familiar click echoed gently through the still hallway.

She stepped inside and slid off her heels, placing them neatly on the shoe rack.

"I’m home..." she said softly.

She walked in slowly, heading first to the ground floor restroom, just beside the guest room.

Once inside, she closed the door gently and relieved herself, as quietly and discreetly as always.

Finished, she reached for the bidet control, then carefully cleaned herself—every motion precise, as any graceful woman raised in elegance would do.

Then she washed her hands thoroughly, dried them, adjusted her blouse slightly in the mirror, and exited the toilet.

Kyouko turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Her steps slowed the moment she entered.

Her brows lifted slightly.

She didn’t say a word—

But her eyes said it all.

Plates stacked in the sink. Crumbs on the counter. Empty wrappers left on the table. A half-finished drink glass with lipstick smudged at the rim.

The bin wasn’t even closed properly.

Kyouko stood still for a moment.

"What a mess."

Kyouko rolled up the sleeves of her blouse slightly and began tidying the kitchen, one item at a time—stacking plates neatly, rinsing utensils, wiping the countertop in calm, practiced strokes.

Her eyes drifted toward the living room just beyond.

And what she saw made her pause.

Cushions out of place. Clothes on the floor. Snack wrappers on the table. Empty cups scattered. A pair of high heels tossed aside near the couch.

The floor hadn’t been swept in days.

The air carried the faint scent of leftover food.

She stood silently for a moment, dishcloth in hand.

So this is how they’ve been living...?

Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the room again.

Is this how Satomi always was... when she was living with Haruki?

No care for the space they shared. No sense of home.

She returned to scrubbing the sink, calm and steady.

Without a word, she moved to the living room.

Her fingers adjusted the cushions—fluffing them back into shape, realigning them with the sofa’s edges the way she used to.

She picked up discarded wrappers and empty cups, placing them into the bin properly this time—closing it with a gentle click.

She collected the clothes from the floor, and put it on dirty clothes bin.

Then she went to the small cabinet by the hallway and took out a floor cloth.

Kyouko knelt on the floor, graceful even in that simple motion, and began wiping the wooden panels slowly—row by row.

Her movements were quiet. Dignified.

Like someone who had done this for years,

for people who never once noticed.

But this time, she wasn’t doing it for them.

She was doing it for Haruki.

So when he came home—

His home wouldn’t feel like someone else’s mess.

Once she finished tidying what she could, Kyouko stood slowly, setting the cloth aside.

She looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the now-clean floor, the straightened cushions, the counters free of clutter.

She sighed.

Not in frustration—

But in quiet disappointment.

I want to clean it properly...

But I don’t have time.

Haruki’s waiting. novelbuddy-cσ๓

Her gaze turned to the clock on the wall.

She still had to cook, change, and return to the hospital before evening.

Did what she could.

Just enough to make it feel less forgotten.

She looked around again.

The silence of the house was loud.

Only a month...

And this house is already in this state.

She pressed a hand to her chest gently.

I wonder what it would look like if I wasn’t around at all.

Kyouko glanced down at herself.

Her blouse was wrinkled. A faint splash of water from the sink clung to the hem of her skirt.

She sighed softly.

"Perhaps I should clean myself..."

Her fingers gently touched her neckline, smoothing it.

"And change into something fresh."

After that... I’ll take some of Haruki’s clothes.

And cook.

Her eyes softened as she looked toward the kitchen once more.

Maybe...

Just maybe...

If he smells the food...

Her lips curled into a gentle smile.

Maybe it’ll reach him.

Maybe it’ll wake him up.

Even if it was foolish.

Even if no one else would.

Because Haruki always said—

"Your cooking smells like home."

Kyouko slowly ascended the staircase, one hand gently trailing the wooden banister.

Each step measured. Calm. Silent.

But halfway up—

She paused.

Her head tilted slightly.

Moans.

Soft at first.

Then followed by a low groan.

Then the creaking of a bed.

And a sound she hadn’t heard in a long time—

Skin slapping against skin.

Rhythmic. Intimate.

Her fingers froze on the railing.

...What is that?

She remained still.

Listening.

Another moan—this time higher, breathier.

She blinked slowly.

Is Satoshi...?

Did he bring a woman home?

While Satomi’s still here too?

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line.

Is he stupid!?

The moans didn’t stop.

The groans grew louder.

Even if he wanted to bring women home...

At least not when our daughter is here!

Her jaw clenched—quietly, but tight.

What kind of example is that supposed to set?

He’ll make Satomi think this behavior is normal.

Acceptable.

Stupid old man...

She exhaled .

You really have no shame anymore, do you, Satoshi?

Kyouko resumed her steps.

The sounds from upstairs hadn’t stopped.

They seemed louder now. Closer.

She reached the top of the stairs, her eyes calmly scanning the hallway.

She stopped in front of her room.

The sounds were clearer now.

Closer.

She stared at the handle for a brief moment.

Then, without a word, she reached out.

Turned it.

And slowly pushed the door open.

Then her eyes widened.

Her breath caught.

And for a moment.

She couldn’t move.

( End Of Chapter )

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