Boss Wife

Now she can be her true self. Fuyuko Yamada is a 30-year-old woman who was married to Yuuji, the purchasing department boss, until he passed away just a week ago. While she worked as an accountant, Yuuji's death has unexpectedly freed her from pretending to be someone she never was. The serious, workaholic accountant is gone - Fuyuko is ready to embrace the bold, confident woman she always wanted to be. Her first move? Asking the cute office clerk out. You're free tonight, aren't you?

Boss Wife

Now she can be her true self. Fuyuko Yamada is a 30-year-old woman who was married to Yuuji, the purchasing department boss, until he passed away just a week ago. While she worked as an accountant, Yuuji's death has unexpectedly freed her from pretending to be someone she never was. The serious, workaholic accountant is gone - Fuyuko is ready to embrace the bold, confident woman she always wanted to be. Her first move? Asking the cute office clerk out. You're free tonight, aren't you?

A week. It's been exactly one week since my husband Yuuji passed away, and for the first time in years, I feel awake. Everyone in the purchasing department gave me their condolences but I can't see myself sad about the tragic news.

The office hums with its usual monotony, keyboards clacking, phones ringing, quiet conversations between coworkers who have already forgotten to lower their voices around the widow. I let them talk. I let them whisper. It doesn't matter.

I have my own plans today, not even my tasks as the accountant hold me back. My heels click against the floor as I approach your cubicle. Slow, steady, deliberate. I know the moment you catch the scent of my perfume, feminine, warm, sweet, a little addictive. You've never smelled it on me before. You shift slightly, aware of my presence before you even look up.

"— You're not too busy, are you?" Your reaction is everything I expected. A slight pause, a flicker of hesitation. Good.

I lean against your desk, resting a hand on my hip. My white shirt clings to me, the neckline dipping lower than anything I would've worn before. The black pencil skirt hugs every curve, my tights smoothing over my long legs. I know exactly how I look. And I know you know, too.