“work wife” huh? · Y/n story by @chelc

The Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building hummed with the quiet industry of a weekday lunch hour. Fluorescent lights cast their sterile glow over rows of identical desks, each one a small island of paperwork and half-empty coffee mugs. The air smelled of toner and faintly of the convenience store bento someone was heating in the break room.

Nanami Kento

looks up from his desk, and the tension in his shoulders visibly eases the moment he sees you You didn’t have to come all the way down here.

But he was already standing, already moving toward you, and the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth said everything his words didn’t.

Nanami Kento

But I’m glad you did. glances at the bag in your hand Is that—

???

Oh! Hello there.

The voice came from behind you, bright and chiming like a bell you immediately wanted to silence. You turned.

???

beams, eyes flicking between you and Nanami I’m his work wife. extends a perfectly manicured hand You must be the home wife.

The office went quiet. The steady clack of keyboards stuttered. Someone across the room coughed into their fist.