Chapter 10: “Just One More Step”

The final night of their trip began with a mutual, unspoken agreement:

They would absolutely not think about the fact that they were in a honeymoon suite.

Or that they had been blushing, fumbling, flirting messes for 48 hours straight.

Or that tonight, there was no more schedule.

Just… them.

And a king-size futon that took up 60% of the room.

No big deal, Yui told herself as she unpacked her travel bathrobe for the night. We’re just two people. In love. Surrounded by rose petals and romantic lighting. With a private hot spring ten feet away. Nothing suggestive about that.

Meanwhile, Haruki stood in the hallway by the changing area, staring at the guest towel like it had personally offended him.

Why does it feel illegal to take a bath right now?
Is this allowed? Am I allowed?
She’s probably not even thinking about it. She’s probably sipping tea and reading a travel pamphlet, completely serene.
Meanwhile I’m five seconds away from headbutting the wall like a monk trying to purify myself.

They ended up bathing separately.

But neither of them really relaxed.

Because even alone, they couldn’t stop imagining the other.

Yui sat in the warm water, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide and traitorous thoughts bubbling up like bathwater:

What would he look like in here? Would we sit next to each other? Would he… stare? Would I let him? WOULD I MELT INTO A PUDDLE?

Haruki, meanwhile, dunked his head under the water and immediately came back up coughing like he’d just been waterboarded by desire.

I AM A RESPECTFUL MAN. I AM MADE OF RESTRAINT. I—holy crap what if she had joined me would I survive that?

When they both returned to the room, dressed in oversized shirts and silence, they made the universal face of “I’m totally fine and not at all emotionally unhinged.”

Then Yui said, “Want to look through our photos?”

And he nodded, like he wasn’t hoping desperately for an excuse to sit closer.

They sat on the futon side by side, shoulder to shoulder, legs barely touching.

Yui held the phone between them, swiping through pictures—blurry shots of the festival, one of Haruki wearing a yukata and glaring at a goldfish, and a very flattering photo of Yui mid-laugh, her hairpin catching the lantern light.

Haruki pointed at that one. “That’s my favorite.”

Yui blinked. “Why?”

“You look happy. Like, really happy.”

She stared at it for a moment longer. Then smiled. “It’s because of you.”

That would’ve been a nice place to stop.

A soft moment. A gentle ending.

But then she did The Thing.

She placed her hand on his thigh.

And didn’t move it.

Haruki’s soul left his body.

He sat very still, very upright, suddenly aware of every sensation, including how warm her palm was and how it was on his leg and how they were alone in a room filled with love hotel energy.

He looked at her.

She was already looking at him.

Their eyes held.

No nervous laugh. No retreat.

Just heat.

Quiet. Honest. Brave.

He leaned in slowly.

So did she.

Their lips met—soft at first. Gentle. Familiar.

Then deeper.

Longer.

Hands moving slowly, experimentally. Haruki’s fingers brushed her waist. Yui’s hand gripped his shirt.

The kiss turned into another.

And another.

Then stopped.

Yui pulled back, eyes downcast, cheeks red but eyes serious.

“I…” she whispered. “Sometimes I want more. But I’m scared I’ll ruin what we already have.”

Haruki’s heart cracked open.

He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the edge of her jaw.

“Yui,” he said, quietly but firmly, “you’re not going to ruin anything.”

She looked up, vulnerable. So full of trust it almost knocked the air out of him.

“We don’t have to rush,” he said. “We’re not on anyone else’s clock. Not the universe’s. Not our parents’. Not some romance checklist.”

He smiled.

“Just one step at a time. Together.”

Yui blinked.

Then leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

“Okay,” she whispered.

And that was enough.

That night, they lay on the futon in the dark.

Not just side-by-side.

But together.

Her head tucked under his chin.

His arm draped over her waist.

Their bodies warm under the blanket, hearts beating in sync.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Because somewhere in the space between that kiss and this silence, a shift had happened.

Not dramatic.

Not world-shattering.

But real.

They were still Yui and Haruki—awkward, sarcastic, and a little ridiculous.

But something about the way they held each other said it clearly:

We’re still falling in love.
But now… we’re learning how to land together.