The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第23章 A Flight into the Unknown

      The soft hum of an engine in the distance made my heart skip as I spotted Kenji's sleek black car pull up. He stepped out, sharp and composed as always, though the subtle curve of his smile hinted at something more intimate than the usual professionalism between us.

"Ready?" he asked, extending his hand.

I slipped mine into his, a thrill passing through me at the simple contact. "As I'll ever be," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

He drove with quiet confidence, the city lights of Hokkaido blurring past us. Eventually, we arrived at a private airport, the runway empty except for a gleaming jet waiting on the tarmac.

"Your first destination," he said, gesturing to the aircraft, "is something a bit... unexpected. You'll see where we're going soon."

My eyes widened. "A private jet?"

He chuckled softly. "I thought it fitting for your birthday eve. You've earned a little adventure."

The anticipation made my pulse quicken. As we boarded, the interior was sleek and understated, the soft leather seats almost inviting me to sink in and forget everything else. I settled into the plush cabin, heart still fluttering from the surprise.

Kenji took the seat across from me, his usual confident poise softened by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Eden... can I start over?" he asked, his gaze steady. "Not about us, not about the past—but just... tonight. I want to really know you."

I felt a flutter in my chest. "Start over?"

"Yes... this isn't how I usually start things," he admitted, leaning slightly forward. "Lately it's been chaos—work, family, my personal life, and this whole mess with Aya. But don't think I brushed off what you told me at the bar. I heard you. I understand what you want... what you need. What you deserve. And I want to give you that—without the drama. I want to hear about you. The little things. Your favorite music, favorite artists, songs you can't get enough of, hobbies... what makes you laugh, what drives you crazy, what inspires you."

I laughed softly, the nervous energy between us easing just a fraction. "That's... a lot of questions for one flight."

"Good," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Then I'll take my time."

I settled into the conversation, realizing how rare this felt—just the two of us, the world outside temporarily paused.

"Music," I started, "I love a mix of genres. Jazz when I want to think, pop when I want to dance alone at home, some ocean melodies when I need to reset. I have a soft spot for artists who tell stories—Sade, Adele, Norah Jones. And I'm not ashamed to admit I belt out Whitney Houston and Anita Baker when no one's around."

Kenji's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't mind hearing that sometime," he teased lightly, though there was an edge of sincerity I could feel.

"Don't tempt me," I said, hiding my blush. "And hobbies... hmm. I love photography, hiking, trying new foods—especially desserts—and working with my hands when I can find the time."

He nodded, as though each word was a treasure he was collecting. "I'd like to see some of your photography," he said. I gave him a sly smile acknowledging his request. 

The subtle tension between us was electric, but it wasn't just desire—it was curiosity, vulnerability, and an intimacy that grew with every exchanged detail. We moved from music to books, favorite memories, even silly childhood anecdotes, our conversation weaving a tapestry that was neither work nor obligation. Just us.

As the jet lifted off the tarmac, the city lights falling away beneath us, I realized I hadn't noticed the hum of the engines—or anything outside this cabin—since we began talking. It was as though Kenji had created a small universe, suspended between Hokkaido and the stars, where I could just... be Eden.

And for the first time in months, I didn't feel the weight of media or work. I felt only the pull of this man sitting across from me, and the fluttering, undeniable truth of what my heart wanted—even if I wasn't sure I was ready to fully surrender.