The Red String Between Us Part II: Frayed Threads

第29章 Another World

      The resort felt like its own hidden world—quiet, unhurried, protected from everything beyond its walls. After breakfast, Kenji suggested we walk the winding garden paths. The air was perfumed with plumeria and salt, and sunlight filtered through palm leaves, scattering golden flecks across the stone walkways.

We wandered without hurry, our hands brushing, then intertwining. I found myself savoring not just the beauty of the place, but the rare stillness between us. No phones, no meetings, no eyes watching—just Kenji and me, as though the universe had carved out a sanctuary for us. Of course his security lingered, by at a distance, giving us much needed space. 

Eventually, he led me to a small clay studio tucked into the resort grounds. Its open windows spilled out the sound of soft music, and shelves lined with vases, bowls, and sculptures painted the room with earth tones. A woman greeted us warmly, guiding us to a table where smooth clay and spinning wheels awaited.

Kenji's smile tilted as he rolled up his sleeves. "I should warn you—I haven't done this since I was a boy. Don't laugh at me."

"No promises," I teased, sinking into the chair beside him.

The clay was cool and pliable beneath my hands, slipping at first until I found a rhythm. Kenji's wheel spun faster, his strong fingers shaping something that looked far too precise to be improvised. He glanced at me, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

"You're good at this," I said, surprised.

He shrugged, eyes lowering to his work. "I used to watch my grandmother's hands in her garden. The way she shaped bonsai trees, trimmed them with patience. I think I learned something about patience there."

I stilled at the depth behind his words. "You're... not just talking about clay, are you?"

His gaze lifted, steady on mine. "No. I'm talking about life. About us."

Silence lingered, full of unspoken truths. Then he asked, almost carefully, "What do you want most, Eden?"

The question cut deeper than I expected. My hands faltered, smearing clay across my wrist. "I want... peace. To feel like I belong somewhere. To stop second-guessing whether happiness is temporary." My voice wavered, raw in a way I hadn't meant it to.

Kenji reached over, his thumb brushing the clay smudge from my skin, his touch grounding. "You deserve all of that. More than you know."

"And you?" I whispered, searching his face.

His jaw flexed, as though the truth was heavy. "I want freedom. To live on my own terms. To love without hiding." His eyes held mine, unflinching. "And I want you."

The words rooted themselves in me, fierce and undeniable.

As we continued sculpting our pieces, the ocean stretching endlessly before us, I turned my head toward him, curiosity softening my voice. "Kenji... with your schedule, all the travel, everything you're juggling—how did you even find the time to plan all of this... for me?"

A quiet smile curved his lips, his thumb brushing the back of my hand. "I made the time. Every meeting, every flight, every late night—it all felt lighter knowing what I was preparing for. My team helped with the details, of course, but every choice, every surprise... I wanted it to be mine. For you. Busy or not, nothing matters more than making sure you feel exactly what you are to me—my priority."

By the time we finished, my bowl was crooked, leaning, but Kenji insisted it had "character." We laughed as we left the studio, hands still dirty from clay, but our hearts lighter from what had been spoken aloud.

     Our next stop was a quiet little shopping strip, and for the next three hours, we wandered from store to store, savoring every moment. Kenji watched patiently as I tried on jewelry, clothes, and sunglasses, all the while insisting he join in the fun—forcing him to model Classical Metro hats, beach shoes, and bright sunny shirts. I couldn't help laughing at the sight of him, knowing he indulged me out of love and amusement.

My attention was caught by a halter dress, its floral print cascading to my ankles, flaring perfectly for evenings on the water. I paired it with a set of Saint Laurent sunglasses, a matching beach bag, and delicate sandals, holding them up with a sense of giddy anticipation.

As I approached the counter, the store clerk's eyes lit up when she spotted Kenji. She leaned slightly over my shoulder, giving a polite nod. I turned to Kenji, and he simply motioned for her to proceed. To my astonishment, she politely informed me that the purchase was already taken care of. My eyes widened, and I turned to Kenji, who smiled warmly and mouthed, "It's your day."

I felt a rush of gratitude and delight as the clerk packed my bag, and soon we stepped out of the store hand in hand, the sun catching the sparkle in our shared smiles.

"I've got one more special stop planned for you today," he said, his tone teasing yet tender. He led me to a sleek waiting car, opening the door for me before sliding in beside me. As the city blurred past, I felt the thrilling anticipation of what he had in store next, my heart beating just a little faster at the thought.

Once we arrived, I paused to read the sign: a butterfly exhibit. I remembered mentioning my fascination with butterflies once, and clearly, Kenji had listened.

Inside, he took care of the tickets, and we were greeted by a friendly employee who guided us through the exhibit. The air was warm and fragrant, carrying the faint scent of flowers and the gentle hum of wings. Kenji stayed close, walking beside me, his presence steady and comforting as we wandered through the colorful enclosures.

We entered a secluded, enclosed section where butterflies fluttered around us in a delicate, almost magical dance. We admired each one, pointing out their vibrant patterns and discussing their origins, lifespans, and unique traits.

Then we came upon a butterfly unlike any other. Its wings shimmered in a spectrum of colors, constantly shifting as if alive with light. Beneath it was a small plaque: "Eden."

"This is Eden," the employee explained, her voice soft and reverent. "She is a female adult butterfly, born and raised in Chicago at the Contemporary Butterfly Exhibit and transferred here to Japan. She is brave, brilliant, resilient... and the only butterfly to bloom new colors every three years."

I blinked, stunned, and instinctively turned to Kenji, whose smile was impossibly wide, his eyes sparkling with pride and mischief.

"Did you do this?" I asked softly, stepping closer to the butterfly, my fingers almost brushing the glass as I studied the delicate creature.

Kenji's gaze met mine, full of warmth and quiet affection. "I thought it was the perfect reflection of you," he said simply. 

I let my hand hover near the butterfly, mesmerized by its delicate, ever-changing colors, and then slowly turned back to Kenji. His smile was soft now, almost tender, and in that quiet moment, I felt seen—truly seen—as if he had captured something of me in this fragile, brilliant creature.

Before we left the exhibit, a photographer captured a few professional shots of us with the butterfly named after me. I held it delicately on my fingertips, let it rest on my shoulder, even balanced it playfully on the tip of my nose. At one moment, Kenji surprised me, scooping me up in his arms as I laughed, and the butterfly fluttered around us. The photographer snapped the perfect shot: the three of us—Kenji, me, and the little Eden butterfly—caught in a moment of pure joy, our laughter spilling freely, stomachs aching from happiness.