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Anya’s laughter still lingered in the air, echoing softly in Loid’s ears long after she had been tucked into bed.
“Papa wants to give Mama a welcome home kiss!”
Yor’s face had turned an instant, scorching crimson, and before either of them could respond, she had darted out the door like a flash of light, entirely consumed by her own flustered panic.
Hours later, the house had quieted. Loid sat on the couch, the faint ticking of the clock and the rustle of leaves outside the only sounds. He was about to call Franky to babysit Anya so he could search for Yor when the familiar jingle of keys reached his ears.
The door creaked open and Yor stepped inside on tiptoe.
Loid sprang to his feet and hurried toward the foyer. “Yor? Are you alright? You’ve been gone for hours.”
She froze mid-step, clutching her purse like a lifeline. “Ah… I just needed some air,” she murmured, cheeks pink. Then she inhaled deeply, gathering her courage, and looked up at him with eyes that were unusually bright and determined. “Loid, I’ve made up my mind about the welcome home kiss.”
Loid blinked. The what now?
For the first time in a long while, he was completely thrown off script. “Yor, we don’t have to do that. Really. Where did you even get that idea?”
“The girls at work talk about it all the time,” Yor mumbled, her gaze darting away. “They say normal married people do it.”
Normal married people. The words struck a nerve.
Loid sighed softly. “But we’re not really married. You don’t need to force yourself into something like this just to keep up appearances.”
For a brief moment, her smile wavered, but it was all he needed to see. A pang of something sharp twisted inside him.
“I understand,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Loid.”
She turned to go, her familiar brightness settling over her features like an old, carefully worn disguise.
Before he realised it, his hand shot out and caught her wrist.
Yor squeaked, her face turning scarlet.
“Yor,” he said gently, “do you really want a welcome home kiss?”
Her eyes widened, but she nodded faintly. “I… I don’t know. Maybe? I just thought… if we’re supposed to be a real couple, we should act like one. But only if you’re okay with it! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can always make up an excuse if anyone asks…”
Something inside him broke at the thought of her making excuses for something so simple, something so ordinary, something every woman her age should have been able to experience without hesitation.
“Yor, are you sure you want me to be your first?” he asked softly.
She nodded quickly, still avoiding his gaze. “I… I want it to be you. I trust you,” she whispered, gripping the hem of her coat as though it were the anchor that kept her steady.
Loid’s chest tightened. She trusted him completely. He took a step closer. “Yor, please don’t kick me,” he whispered, his voice lower now. “May I?”
Her eyes softened. The tiniest nod.
Cute, he thought absently, before all thought scattered.
His hand hovered at her waist, the other cupping her cheek. The world seemed to shrink until it consisted of nothing but the space between them.
He leaned in slowly, deliberately. Yor’s breath hitched, eyes wide with a mixture of anticipation and nervous terror, but she didn’t pull away. Their lips met in a feather-light, tentative brush. Yor’s lips trembled, but instead of retreating, she pressed closer, her heart surging with a wild, uncontainable warmth. Her hands clutched at Loid’s shirt, knuckles whitening, anchoring herself in the moment. The kiss was shy, innocent, yet charged with longing and wonder. Each heartbeat thundered in her chest, a riot of embarrassment, joy, hope, and dizzying anticipation.
Loid pulled back briefly, seeing her eyes closed, cheeks flushed, and lips parted.
She’s… beautiful, he thought.
Without thinking, he leaned in again, deeper this time, and Yor’s breath caught, a soft, startled sound escaping her as her hands pressed instinctively to his chest. His thumb traced gentle circles at her waist, grounding her even as her pulse raced beneath his touch. The kiss deepened slowly, unhurried and searching, his movements deliberate, hers hesitant but trusting. The warmth of her lips, the trembling hitch of her breath, the faint way she leaned closer, it all branded itself into him, etching deeper than he meant to allow.
Their heartbeats fell into rhythm, echoing each other’s quickening pace, the air between them alive and trembling with unspoken feeling, so fragile, so fleeting, that it felt as though it might shatter if either of them dared to move.
His breath caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder. He hadn’t planned for this, not tonight, not in this way, yet the words left him before he could stop them.
He drew back just enough to meet her eyes, his voice low and steady as he whispered against her lips, “Welcome home, Mrs. Forger.”
Yor stared up at him, eyes wide and dazed, a faint tremor running through her. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Loid had seen her flustered many times before, but never like this. If she hadn’t been erupting fumes before, she certainly was now, practically radiating embarrassment.
She bit her lip and looked away. Loid could see the worry flicker across her face, the self-doubt clouding her expression. He stepped forward, ready to tell her she didn’t have to force herself, when she spoke first.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I probably wasn’t very good at that. I just don’t think I’ll ever be like your first wife.”
The words made him guilty. His first wife, the one who didn’t exist, the lie he had built for the sake of his mission, now sat between them like a wall he hadn’t meant to raise.
He took a steady breath and reached for her hand. “Yor, look at me.”
Her eyes lifted to his, startled and searching.
“You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone,” he said softly. “You’re already enough. More than enough. Just being yourself is what makes you special. You mean a lot to me and to Anya.” His voice grew quieter, a hint of warmth breaking through his composure as a small, almost shy smile touched his lips. “And… I liked kissing you.”
Her breath caught. The colour rose high on her cheeks, spreading all the way to her ears. She looked utterly disarmed, her eyes shimmering with surprise and something warmer. “Really?” she whispered, the single word fragile and hopeful.
Loid nodded, his ears red and his voice quiet but certain. “Really.”
The air between them shifted. The tension that had hovered since her return dissolved into something gentle and steady. Yor’s shoulders relaxed, her lips curved into a shy, tender smile, and for a long moment, they simply stood there, caught in a silence that spoke louder than words.
Loid brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek, lingering. Then he leaned forward, placing a soft, deliberate kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Yor,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Yor’s heart fluttered uncontrollably. He’s so gentle, so careful, so perfect.
The next morning, the kitchen smelled faintly of burnt toast. Loid stood at the table, trying to act normal. “I may have over-toasted the bread.”
Yor’s hands shook as she took her cup, cheeks still flushed. “No! It’s perfect! I love it burnt!”
Anya smirked knowingly from her seat. Papa and Mama are so in love… but too dumb to admit it! She took a deliberate bite of her toast, watching her parents squirm in mutual fluster.
When Loid left for work, his steps felt lighter than usual, as if the warmth of Yor’s kisses still lingered on his skin and followed him out the door.
Yor approached with his briefcase, her cheeks softly flushed, eyes shy but warm. Loid accepted it with a faint smile before cupping her cheek, his touch gentle and steady. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“See you tonight, Yor,” he murmured, his voice low, almost intimate.
“B-bye, Loid,” she managed, her voice trembling as colour bloomed deeper across her face.
Across the door, a few neighbours glanced over with knowing smiles, but Yor barely noticed. Loid gave her one last look before turning to go, his steps lighter, more certain, as if the world itself felt easier to bear.
Yor stayed by the door, her fingers brushing her lips, her heart still fluttering wildly. She leaned against the frame, a soft smile curving her lips, her eyes dreamy and dazed. She was, without question, completely in love.