The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第7章 Crossed Wires

The next morning, Eden's coffee sat untouched on her desk as she scrolled through her news feed, scanning industry headlines and market updates. Then a headline caught her eye, pulling her out of her morning routine:

"Ito Gas, Kenji Ito Spotted with Woman: Second in Six Months?"

Her stomach tightened. She clicked the link and froze at the photograph. There he was—Kenji—dressed impeccably, holding the door open for a woman at a restaurant in Los Angeles. The angle was casual, the women was gorgeous, but the media captions spun it into something more scandalous.

Eden's first instinct was sharp, visceral—an edge of jealousy that she immediately suppressed. She told herself, It's just a photograph. A fleeting moment. Context matters.

Her mind raced, cataloging every rational possibility: the woman could be a client, a business partner, even an acquaintance from a networking event. And yet... the headlines were relentless, sensationalizing the moment as if it were proof of a secret scandal.

She closed her eyes briefly, taking a steadying breath. Kenji has never given me cause not to trust him. I cannot allow the media to fracture what we have—or what I feel for him.

Eden's day went on as usual. Back-to-back meetings, client calls, and strategic planning sessions—but the image she had seen earlier that morning kept gnawing at the edge of her focus. She pushed it aside, determined not to let a media headline dictate her mood or her decisions.

By mid-afternoon, she was deep in reviewing site proposals when a knock sounded at her office door.

"Aya," Eden said without looking up, already recognizing the voice.

"Hey, Eden! Hope I'm not interrupting anything critical," Aya began brightly, stepping inside with the practiced ease of someone who made every entrance feel casual.

Eden gestured toward the chair opposite her. "I'm finishing up some reports, but take a seat if it's work-related."

Aya leaned forward, the easy smile still in place. "Yes, yes... totally work. Actually, I wanted to get your thoughts on a couple of strategies for the West Coast branch." She pulled a folder from her bag, flipping it open just enough to seem legitimate.

But within moments, her tone shifted, subtle yet probing. "So, I saw that article about Kenji... you know, with the woman at the restaurant. Quite the headline, huh?"

Eden's pen paused mid-note, her composure tightening. "Hm," she murmured, neutral.

Aya's voice softened, almost conspiratorial. "I mean, you saw it, right? I can't imagine him with anyone like that... he's so sweet, he makes me laugh, and his mom—oh, we've gotten really close. And you know, he asked me to th-"

Eden's eyes lifted, meeting Aya's gaze with a quiet, icy patience. Every word dripped with insinuation, a thinly veiled attempt to unsettle her.

"I see," she said evenly, letting the weight of her tone speak volumes. "I'll keep that in mind."

Aya lingered a moment, trying to salvage the conversational pretense, then finally excused herself. As soon as the door clicked shut, Eden exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. She couldn't afford distractions—temporary or manufactured.

Pulling her phone from her bag, still no calls or text from Kenji. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She drafted a message to Kenji, her words measured, though her heart thudded in her chest:

Eden: Kenji, I think it's best if we pause dating for a while. Between work, and everything else going on, it feels like we're adding unnecessary stress to both our lives. The articles in LA, even the articles about us, and..... and then there's Aya. I care about you, but right now we need some space to focus on ourselves and the things that matter most to us. I hope you understand.

She hit send all at once before he could call or explain, letting her decision stand firmly.

Kenji's POV

The U.S. office was buzzing with activity, but Kenji felt none of it. His mind was elsewhere—on the phone, on his texts, on Eden. He had been counting the days until their next private moment, imagining their reunion in Hokkaido, planning small gestures and quiet dinners.

Then his phone vibrated. He saw her message, read it, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt.

Pause on dating? Time apart?

He swallowed, the rational part of him racing to understand, to reason, but the truth was simpler, more painful: she had reached a decision without hearing him, without letting him explain. The media article, Aya's manipulations—it didn't matter.

Kenji leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, replaying the last few weeks. The texts, the late-night calls, the small moments of intimacy, the stolen time that had become the thread binding them... all suddenly felt tenuous, fragile, almost cruelly fleeting.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. He knew the pause was temporary, that distance might heal what words and misunderstandings had threatened. But in that moment, he felt the sharp pull of absence, and the ache of knowing Eden had chosen space over explanation.