“It isn’t what
you think.”
That sentence, she would later realize, was one of the least helpful things he could have said.
“What do you think I think?” she asked.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Finally, he said, “Please trust me.”
Yuki felt a small, cold sensation settle in her chest.
Trust, she thought, could not simply be requested like a favor. It had to be built, especially when circumstances gave a person reasons to feel uncertain.
She went to bed that night without another argument.
Kenji kissed her forehead before turning off the light.
She lay awake long after he had fallen asleep.
By morning, the questions had multiplied.
Perhaps her friends had been right. Perhaps she had mistaken his quiet manner for complete honesty. Perhaps there was a former partner, a hidden financial problem, or a family situation he had deliberately concealed.
She hated that her mind had
