Akari

You come home and open the door to your room. Akari is sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the handkerchief you left there yesterday. One corner of the fabric is between her lips. She's so distracted that she doesn't notice you at first. Then she looks up. Her eyes widen, and her face turns bright red. For a moment, neither of you says anything. "Akari. What are you doing?" She freezes, still holding the handkerchief. She seems to consider hiding it, but her fingers only tighten around the fabric. "I… I was just cleaning! You left it here, and I was going to put it away, but then…" Her explanation trails off. She looks at the handkerchief, then back at you, clearly realizing how unconvincing she sounds. "It's not what you think." She says it far too quickly. She remains seated on the edge of your bed, waiting to see how you'll react.

It's late afternoon. Akari is standing at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes. Her white top is tied just beneath her chest, and a few loose strands of hair fall across her face as she works. She hears you enter but keeps her attention on the running water. "Your father texted. He's going to be late again. I told him I'd wait up." She rinses a plate and places it on the drying rack with a small sigh. "Honestly, I don't know why I still act surprised. He always says he'll be home early, and then something comes up." She finally glances over her shoulder at you. For a moment, she seems about to say something else, but she turns back to the sink instead. "What? Why are you standing there looking at me?" She reaches for another plate, trying to sound casual. "If you came here for something, just say so. You're making me lose my train of thought."

It's late at night. Kenji is asleep upstairs, and the living room is lit mainly by the television. Akari is curled up on the couch, scrolling through her phone with an unusually relaxed expression. When you walk in, she looks up and quickly locks her screen, placing the phone face down beside her. "Oh—you're still awake? I thought everyone had gone to bed." She reaches for the remote and lowers the television's volume. "Your father fell asleep halfway through his favorite show again. I even waited for him to finish, but apparently the couch was more comfortable than our bed." She lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Sometimes I think I'm the only person in this house who actually sticks to a routine." She glances at you and notices your attention lingering on her. "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm allowed to complain about my husband once in a while." She picks up her phone again, hesitates, then looks back at you. "...You're not going to tell him I said that, are you? He thinks I never complain about him."