Chapter 30: “The Not-Date Date”

Rurika waited at the entrance of the shopping district, hands clasped tightly around her purse. Her heart tapped against her ribs like it was trying to escape. She kept checking her reflection in a dark shop window—fixing her ribbon, smoothing her skirt, adjusting her hair.

When Kei finally appeared from the crowd, her breath caught.

He looked nothing like the men she grew up avoiding.

No sharp smell of alcohol.

No loud voice.

No impatient glare.

Just calm eyes and a gentle presence.

“Nishima-san,” she called out, waving with a tiny smile.

Kei raised a hand back. “Did you wait long? Sorry, the train was a bit slow.”

His tone was warm, casual—the way adults spoke when they weren’t trying to impress anyone. Rurika felt her cheeks heat anyway.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I… um… picked a few shops we can check.”

“Good. I don’t know much about gifts for girls this age, so I’m relying on you.”

Rurika clutched her purse tighter.

Girls this age.

He meant nothing by it, but the phrase slid under her skin and made her chest twist.

She wasn’t a little girl.

Not anymore.

Not with him.

They walked together along the street lined with boutiques and cafés. Kei kept a polite distance, the way a teacher or older brother might. But to Rurika, every step he took beside her felt like a quiet, steady promise.

They checked a stationery store first. Rurika held up a few pens shaped like cats.

“Do you think Touko would like this?” she asked.

Kei studied them seriously. “She likes practical things… so maybe not the cats.”

Rurika let out a soft laugh. “Right. She’s not the cute-type girl.”

Kei smiled a little. “She is cute, actually. Just a different way.”

The warmth left Rurika’s face instantly.

Cute.

To him, Touko was cute.

Of course she was.

She was perfect.

She had a perfect home.

She had a perfect life.

She had him.

Rurika pushed the pens aside too quickly. “Let’s look somewhere else.”

Kei didn’t sense her shift. He simply followed.

They walked into a small accessory shop next. The lights were soft, the music low, the atmosphere strangely intimate for a place meant to sell hairpins.

“Something like a bracelet?” Kei suggested.

“Maybe…” Rurika murmured, though she barely heard the words. She was too busy watching the reflection of both of them in a mirror across the room.

She imagined she and Kei were here together for a different reason.

Not to shop for Touko.

Not as student and stepfather.

But as—

Rurika stopped the thought before it grew too real.

Too bright.

Too dangerous.

Kei lifted a delicate silver bracelet from the display. “This might suit her.”

“It’s… pretty,” Rurika said. Her throat felt tight.

Kei’s smile was soft but distant, as if his mind was already picturing Touko wearing it.

Rurika swallowed.

“Nishima-san,” she said, more quietly now, “can we take a picture?”

He blinked. “A picture?”

“For Touko. So I can show her we were serious about choosing something.”

Kei nodded. “Good idea.”

He lifted his phone, but she shook her head quickly.

“No. Let’s use mine. I’ll send it to you.”

Kei didn’t see the tremor in her fingers. “Alright.”

Rurika moved beside him.

Close—closer than she needed to be.

She angled her body gently toward his, her shoulder brushing his arm.

Kei didn’t move away.

He didn’t think anything of it.

That tiny detail lit something warm and unbearably sweet inside her.

“Okay,” she whispered, raising her phone.

She snapped the picture.

The small shutter sound echoed in her chest like a heartbeat.

In the photo, Kei looked calm and polite.

Rurika, on the other hand, looked like a girl standing beside someone she adored.

She saved the picture immediately, naming it quietly in her head:

With him.

Her hands shook as she tucked her phone into her purse.

Kei didn’t notice. He was already at the counter, paying for the bracelet Touko might like best.

Rurika stared at his back, her pulse too fast, her throat tight, her thoughts blurring between hope and longing and fear.

His kindness felt warm when she was in the moment.

But as she stood there watching him, a strange ache spread through her chest. A heavy, slow ache that tasted too much like pain. Like wanting something she shouldn’t want.

Like wanting someone she shouldn’t touch.

Kei turned to her. “Thanks for helping. Touko will like this.”

Rurika nodded, but her smile felt fragile.

On the way to the station, she walked half a step behind him, holding her phone with both hands. When he wasn’t looking, she opened the gallery again.

She zoomed in on the photo.

On her face.

On his.

Her thumb brushed the screen.

A tiny, embarrassed breath left her.

She hugged the phone to her chest.

Kei’s kindness seeped into her like poison—slow, warm, impossible to resist. It filled cracks she didn’t know she had.

It made her want more.

She wished he would look at her again.

Just once.

Just long enough to make her believe that picture wasn’t a lie.