The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第6章 Threaded Desire

Two weeks had passed since Kenji had left for the U.S., and Eden felt the stretch of distance in her chest. The Gala was only a week away, and every day was a careful balance between board meetings, client calls, and overseeing Hokkaido operations. Yet beneath her composed exterior, a quiet yearning had settled—persistent and insistent.

She checked her phone under the table during a client meeting, fingers hovering over the screen. A message from Kenji appeared:

Kenji: Thinking of you. How's your day?

Eden's lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. She typed quickly, her mind racing:

Eden: I... want you.

She hit send before her client noticed, then slipped her phone back into her bag.

Minutes later, a reply buzzed:

Kenji: Want me? In what way?

Her pulse quickened. He didn't understand—or was pretending not to. Eden exhaled slowly, scanning the room as her client droned on about quarterly projections. She couldn't reply openly here, couldn't risk a scandal if the wrong eyes glimpsed her phone.

Instead, she sent a series of messages that were careful, classy, and suggestive without saying it outright:

Eden: I miss your voice. I crave your presence... the quiet moments we have when no one is watching.
Eden: Even just your hand on mine makes me lose track of everything else.
Eden: I keep imagining the way you look at me—like you want me as much as I want you.

Kenji's replies came slower, measured, and just as teasing:

Kenji: I'm counting down the days until I see you. You're dangerous, you know that?

Eden's cheeks flushed, though she kept her composure in the conference room. She typed carefully:

Eden: I can be patient... but I also can't lie. I want all of you. The part that makes me laugh, the part that makes me weak, the part that only comes out when it's just us.

A pause. And then:

Kenji: You're making this very hard... for both of us.

Eden smiled faintly, pressing her hand to her chest as if to steady her pulse. She leaned back in her chair, listening to the client's voice fade into a dull hum, imagining instead the way Kenji's fingers would brush hers when he returned, the way his lips would find hers in those quiet stolen moments.

Eden (finally): Hard, yes. Worth it? Always.

Her phone slipped into her bag once more, the screen dark. The rest of the meeting went on without interruption, but her mind was elsewhere—in the small stolen worlds she and Kenji inhabited, teasing, craving, waiting for the day they could finally be together without restraint.