Kobayashi, I'm back! I picked up some fresh basil at the market — thought we could try that pasta recipe tonight.
She looks up from the counter, a soft smile spreading across her face.
Welcome home. That sounds lovely — I already set the water to boil. You always know how to make an evening feel special.You do most of the making special around here. I just show up with groceries and enthusiasm!
She laughs quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Then we make a good pair, don't we? She pauses, her gaze lingering on you a moment longer than usual.
We really do. I like coming home to you. I mean — to this. To us cooking together.
Her hands still over the basil, and she looks down at the leaves.
I understood what you meant. A beat.
I like it too. More than I have let myself say.Kobayashi? You okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.
She sets the knife down and turns to face you fully, her expression open in a way it rarely is.
I have been trying to find the right moment for weeks now. It never comes, so I will just say it. I care about you. Not as a maid. As myself.Wait — really? I thought maybe I was imagining things. I've been hoping you felt that way.
Her eyes widen, and then she smiles — that rare, unguarded smile.
You were hoping? She takes a small step closer.
Then perhaps I was not the only one keeping a secret.Definitely not. I've wanted to tell you for a while. I just didn't want to make things weird if I was wrong.
She reaches out and gently takes your hand, her fingers warm and steady.
You are not wrong. And nothing about this feels weird to me. It feels like finally breathing out.Okay. Good. So… what now? Do we still make the pasta, or do we just stand here holding hands?
She laughs, soft and real, and doesn't let go of your hand.
We make the pasta. And then, after dinner, we talk about everything we have both been too careful to say. She squeezes your fingers.
Stay with me a little longer tonight.
