The ticking of the clock filled the otherwise silent office, the faint hum of the city outside filtering through the large window behind Hiromi Higuruma’s desk. The evening glow of Tokyo cast long shadows across the room, bathing the mahogany furniture in amber hues. The space was tidy, meticulously organized—files stacked neatly, a polished nameplate reflecting the dim light, and a single cup of coffee cooling beside a case brief he had been reviewing. His fingers tapped absently against the arm of his chair as he waited, his gaze occasionally flicking toward the door.

When it finally creaked open, his eyes followed the figure that stepped inside. She moved with an air of hesitation, her posture stiff, as if her own limbs were foreign to her. She sat down slowly, avoiding eye contact, her body language awkward, almost defensive. He noticed everything—the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands twitched slightly before resting in her lap. He didn’t speak at first, letting the silence settle, his own composure calm as he crossed one leg over the other, his sharp gaze never leaving her.

“This is your fourth request in under a month,” his voice was even, measured, yet there was no mistaking the disappointment woven through his tone. “And the demands keep getting bigger.” He let the words hang between them, his expression unreadable, though there was an undeniable weight behind his stare.

Folding his hands together, he continued, his tone carrying the patience of a man who had dealt with countless negotiations but the firmness of someone unwilling to be played. “You showed me proof that you have a stable job, one that pays you well. That both of your children are fine, that they attend daycare regularly. So what’s the issue now?” His fingers lightly drummed against the desk, his gaze unwavering. “You can’t be given three hundred thousand yen without telling me the reason. It’s just how it is. I’m sorry.”

He leaned back into his chair, clasping his hands together, a ballpoint pen rolling smoothly between his fingers as he watched her closely. He wasn’t in a hurry. He gave her all the time in the world to respond, to explain herself, to justify this repeated need for money. But as the silence stretched, his focus shifted—not to her words, but to something else entirely.

The sunglasses.

Large, tinted lenses covered most of her face, obscuring her eyes completely. Indoors, at this hour, in his office—it was a blatant red flag. Higuruma had spent years deciphering human behavior, parsing through lies and omissions, detecting the telltale signs of deception, of distress, of shame. And he knew, without a doubt, that sunglasses worn inside were almost always a shield. A mask to cover something that wasn’t meant to be seen.

Straightening slightly in his seat, his expression didn’t waver, but there was a new edge to his voice as he calmly spoke. “Remove the sunglasses, please.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a test.

He watched her hand move, slow and unsteady, her fingers hesitating at the frame. That slight tremble was all he needed to see. Without a word, he reached out, catching her wrist gently but firmly, lowering her hand back to her lap. He didn’t need to see what was beneath them anymore. He already knew.

Pushing his chair back, Higuruma stood, moving toward the door without another glance in her direction. His movements were deliberate, purposeful, and when he returned a moment later, an ice pack rested in his palm. He extended it toward her, the urgency in his gesture betraying the calmness of his exterior.

“Press it lightly against your eyelid,” he instructed, his voice still composed but carrying the weight of certainty. “Firm pressure isn’t going to help.”

As soon as the ice pack left his hand, he sat back down—not behind his desk this time, but in the chair directly across from her, closing the distance between them. And almost immediately, his hand reached for the phone resting on his desk. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t deliberate. The decision had already been made the moment he realized what was happening.

Lifting the receiver, he dialed with the same unwavering certainty with which he handled every case, his voice steady as he reported a case of domestic violence.

Three weeks had passed since that tense meeting in his office. Higuruma found himself staring at his phone’s screen, his thumb scrolling absentmindedly as the train rattled beneath him. The address of her home stared back at him in the dim glow of his phone. He wasn’t particularly fond of how far she lived—far from the bustling heart of the city, tucked away in a quieter part of Niigata. But, at this point, the distance wasn’t his concern. His mind had been preoccupied all day with thoughts of her, of the decision he’d made earlier, and of the need to somehow step in before things spiraled further.

The train came to a stop, and he tucked his phone away, breathing out a long exhale. He didn’t particularly care for how uncomfortable the taxi ride was going to be either, but again, that wasn’t the pressing matter right now.

As the taxi pulled up to the modest house, the exterior plain but well-maintained, Higuruma ran a hand through his dark hair and took another deep breath. His heart wasn’t racing, but there was a palpable tension in his chest. He hadn’t even called ahead. In fact, this entire visit was as inappropriate as he knew it was. But the weight of his decision was becoming too much to ignore. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air, and waited patiently, his eyes scanning the street as if to distract himself from the awkwardness of the moment.

When the door finally opened, she stood there, looking just as tense as he felt. For a moment, his eyes lingered on her—her tired gaze, the slight tension in her posture—and then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifted to the two children behind her, playing in the background. They looked to be under two years old, their innocent giggles filling the air as they tried to piece together a game with mismatched blocks.

Higuruma didn’t waste time. He wasn’t here for pleasantries. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of someone who had been turning things over in their mind for too long. “I know this visit is very... inappropriate,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “But my head has been stuck on your situation all day. I really do apologize.”

He felt like a bastard for showing up unannounced, but there was no turning back now. Carefully, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out one of his business cards, the crisp paper almost feeling too formal for what he was about to do. He handed it to her without hesitation.

The look on her face was a mixture of confusion and wariness, and Higuruma was quick to explain, not wanting to leave her with any questions. “It’s my personal card,” he said, almost nonchalantly. “It has my home and cell phone number, and the address on the backside.” He said it so casually, as though sharing his home address wasn’t borderline reckless. But that’s how he operated—direct, sometimes too much so.

He paused for a moment, watching her process the information. “...Please, do call whenever you have an issue. Do not show up to my office anymore. I’ve decided on something that might be more beneficial.” His gaze softened slightly as he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the words he was about to speak.

He exhaled slowly. This was not something he had planned to say—at least, not so soon. “...I wish to help with your well-being... but I also...” He trailed off, eyes briefly flicking to the children before returning to her. “...I considered stepping in to help with your children.” He swallowed hard, the weight of what he was proposing hitting him all at once.

There was a pause, a long stretch of silence as Higuruma prepared himself for what might come next. “...A stepfather, to be exact. Are you comfortable with that? Would you allow that to happen?”

His voice remained steady, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his chest—he had to trust his judgment. He knew he wasn’t the perfect solution, but he couldn’t ignore the pull to offer his help, to do what was right for the children, for her. Now, it was up to her.