"So…" Hanako said, her voice soft and lilting, eyes glinting with mischief.
She set her cup down, leaning in.
"Kyouko-chan~"
Kyouko didn't meet her gaze.
Her cheeks flushed faintly as she adjusted her grip on the cup.
"…I don't know what you're talking about, Mom."
Hanako chuckled—low, knowing, and delighted.
"Yes yes… we don't know."
Her voice practically sang with amusement.
Across the table, Kenji was biting his lip to keep from laughing.
Kitayama cleared his throat, still not looking up.
Kyouko stared into her tea.
Dignified. Graceful. Mortified.
She lifted the cup again, slowly sipping as if she could disappear behind the steam.
Hanako smiled and sat back, utterly satisfied.
There was no need to press further.
Kyouko's silence said it all.
After breakfast, Kyouko moved quickly.
She grabbed her purse from the hallway drawer, slipped on her heels, and headed straight for the front door.
She waited at the porch, glancing back toward the house.
"Kenji… hurry."
