Then, a sound froze her mid-step. Laughter. Low and intimate, bubbling from the kitchen.

She turned the corner. The bags hit the floor with a dull thud.

There they were, pressed against the countertop. Toshinori’s large hands gripped Inko’s waist like she belonged there, his mouth slanting over hers with a hunger she hadn’t seen in years. The giggle she’d heard moments ago died in Inko’s throat as they broke apart, their faces slack with shock.