Chapter 12: “This Is What Forever Feels Like”

There were no alarms that morning.

No deadlines.
No grocery list.
No fire drills, emotional breakdowns, or dramatic declarations.

Just silence.

And warmth.

Yui rolled over and found Haruki already awake, laying on his side and watching her like he was seeing his favorite movie play out in real time.

“Morning,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he whispered back. “You drooled a little.”

She smacked his shoulder.

He grinned.

It was a good start to a good day.

They cleaned the apartment.

Not in the frantic, “we have guests coming over” way. Just… casually. Together.

Yui folded laundry while Haruki wiped down the windows. He hummed badly. She harmonized worse.

They argued over whether to keep the weird ceramic duck soap dish Haruki’s mom gifted them.

(It stayed. Against Yui’s better judgment.)

They paused halfway through vacuuming just to slow dance to a cheesy love song that came on their playlist.

And when the chores were done, they curled up together on the couch under their favorite blanket—a lumpy one that Yui insisted was “perfectly broken in” and Haruki swore “smelled like microwave popcorn and dust.”

He wrapped his arm around her. She tucked her feet under his leg.

They put on a terrible old monster movie with CGI so bad it looked like it was animated on a potato.

Halfway through the villain’s dramatic monologue about lizard domination, Haruki’s head slowly slid down until it landed in Yui’s lap.

She glanced down.

He was asleep.

Soft breathing. Relaxed shoulders. Lips slightly parted. A faint crease in his brow that never really went away.

Yui stared for a moment.

Then gently brushed the hair out of his face.

This is the person I want to spend every boring day with, she thought.
Not just the fireworks. Not just the honeymoons. I want this. The lazy Sundays. The popcorn-scented blankets. The naps.
All of it.

That night, the lights were low. A soft breeze drifted in from the cracked window. The world outside hummed quietly, like it knew not to intrude.

They lay in bed, skin warm against skin, legs tangled comfortably.

Haruki’s hand found hers beneath the blanket.

“Yui?” he said quietly.

She turned toward him. “Yeah?”

He hesitated for a moment, like he was afraid the question might break something fragile.

“Do you ever wonder… how long this will last?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she sat up slightly, took his hand in both of hers, and kissed his knuckles—slowly. Gently. Like sealing a promise.

Then she looked him in the eye.

“If we keep choosing each other every day… maybe forever.”

Haruki exhaled.

Then pulled her closer.

Their foreheads pressed together. No rush. No pressure. Just closeness.

He kissed her—soft and sure.

She kissed him back—unafraid.

And when the light finally clicked off...

Their bodies “found” each other in the dark.