The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第28章 Love Horizon

      The day unfolded like sunlight spilling slowly across the horizon—gentle, unhurried, yet impossible to look away from. After we set our bags down, Kenji laced his fingers through mine and led me out onto the terrace. The infinity pool merged seamlessly with the ocean beyond, and for a moment I couldn't tell where the water ended and the sky began.

"Eden," he said softly, his accent wrapping around my name in that way that always made me want to close my eyes and just listen. "When I was little, my grandmother used to tell me the sea was alive—that it carried our secrets, our wishes, even our regrets. That's why I wanted you to wake up here today. So the ocean could know you the way I do."

I glanced at him, stunned into stillness. It was rare, the way he let little pieces of his past slip free like that. "What would you have told the ocean back then?" I asked.

He considered the question, gaze fixed on the endless horizon. "That I wanted something real. Something worth waiting for." Then his eyes flicked back to me, piercing and warm all at once. 

The weight of his words pressed against my chest, both terrifying and exhilarating. To cover the tremor in my breath, I tugged him toward the villa's lounge area where a spread of dishes waited.

Kenji watched me curiously as I lifted the lids. "I've never had half of this," I admitted with a laugh, staring at bowls of miso soup, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, fluffy pancakes and fruit—softly folded Japanese omelets—and little pickled vegetables arranged with delicate precision.

"You should try everything." His voice carried a boyish pride. "It's traditional breakfast in Japan. My mother always said it was how you begin a day with balance."

He showed me how to pair the rice with miso soup, how to drizzle soy over the egg. I mimicked his movements, tasting carefully, and my eyes widened at the blend of savory and delicate flavors.

"This is... incredible," I said, reaching for another bite. "All this time, I thought breakfast was just coffee and toast."

Kenji chuckled, watching me as though my delight itself was a feast. "I like seeing you discover new things."

We lingered over the food, talking between bites. He told me stories of summer festivals in Kyoto, of the paper lanterns that floated into the night sky carrying wishes. I told him about the little traditions from my own childhood—birthday cakes that always leaned to one side, candle wax dripping into frosting, my family laughing too hard to care.

At one point, he leaned back, studying me with that half-smile that always made my stomach flutter. "Last night felt like a dream. But sitting here with you, hearing you laugh... I think this is what I'll remember most."

I swallowed, realizing just how much I wanted to believe him—how much I wanted to hold onto every moment of this trip, fearing things will change once we head back to Hokkaido.

Outside, the waves whispered against the shore, steady and endless. For the first time in years, I didn't feel like I had to guard myself. I just let the moment happen.

"Kenji?" I murmured.

"Yes?"

I reached across the table, brushing my fingers over his hand. "I think I'm ready to see what today holds."

His eyes darkened, slow-burning with promise. "Good. Because the day has only just begun."