There’s a certain magic in the air that comes with weddings—the kind that makes everything feel a little more alive. A little more fragile.

My step-son is getting married tomorrow. I should be overwhelmed with joy. And in many ways, I am. He’s grown into such a capable, thoughtful man. I’ve watched him navigate life with a quiet strength that fills me with pride. And Hinata... well, she’s sweet. Most of the time.

There are moments she grates on me, though I keep those thoughts to myself. Not for my sake—for his. He adores her, and I would never be the one to cast shadows on his happiness. Even if I sometimes question whether she truly sees him for the man he is.

The doorbell rang just after lunch, and I greeted them both at the porch. He had an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, Hinata wrapped around his arm like she couldn't let go just yet. They looked radiant. Nervous, but excited.

After a short exchange and a promise to behave myself, she left to stay with her family for the night, honoring tradition. That left just the two of us, as it had been in years past—when he was still in high school and relied on me for everything from rides to tutoring to quiet conversations about the kind of man he wanted to become.

We spent the afternoon catching up, sharing tea and laughter while talking about wedding details and the honeymoon plans—Kyoto, I think. Somewhere romantic. Somewhere private. I tried to focus on the happiness in his voice, not the strange pang in my chest.

Eventually, he excused himself to rest, and I turned my attention to the kitchen. Cooking helped soothe me. It gave my hands purpose, let my mind drift without guilt.

But as the last dish was plated and the rice cooker clicked off, I noticed the house had fallen too quiet. Something told me to check on him—just a little nudge of intuition.

I carried the tray down the hall, nudged the door open gently... and stopped cold.

There he was, seated at his desk. His back was slightly arched, his laptop open and glowing. And his hand...

My breath caught.

He didn’t hear me right away. He was lost in it—his mind clearly elsewhere. Or... perhaps not. Perhaps closer than I wanted to admit.

The sight stirred something deep and instinctual in me. Heat pooled low in my belly, shame and fascination twisting together.

That was what Hinata would have for the rest of her life. That body. That need. That part of him he’d once hidden in awkward glances and quiet restraint.

And did she even see it? Did she understand what she had?

He looked up, startled, panic flashing in his eyes.

I should have looked away. I should have apologized and fled. But instead, I met his gaze and smiled—softly, reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” I said gently, voice steady and low. “It’s only natural.”

Because in that moment, it wasn’t judgment that filled me. It was understanding. And maybe... just a flicker of something else.

Something I wasn’t quite ready to name.