Disclaimer: Hana Yori Dango not mine.

Summary: She is married to the man she loves, this is the dream. Shigeru could never forget how lucky she is.

Castles in the Air

He never yells anymore. She can't even remember the last time he was angry. They're both adults now, after all, and it's only expected that the past five years of business and marriage have shaped him into this quiet man with the solemn eyes. That infamous temper of his teens has simply disappeared, leaving behind only curious little quirks that no longer unsettle her.

He touches her hair at the oddest times. Such as when they're in an upscale restaurant she's successfully dragged him to with the waiter hovering anxiously over them. Tsukasa would reach over and comb his elegant fingers through her hair, then pause and frown.

But what does it matter, really? What does it matter that he tells her to keep her hair long and unstyled? It's only a small inconvenience. Just like when he tells her to stop using perfume. It's been almost a year since he whispered another name in bed. These are small triumphs, she reminds herself every morning. This is progress, she repeats as she dries her eyes and pulls a silly face in the mirror.

She is married to the man she loves, this is the dream. She is free to touch him whenever she feels like it and if she catches him at the right moment – early in the morning just before the maids rush in, before first light – she is able to indulge that need for whole minutes at a time before he pulls away. He would be still and staring up at the ceiling. And she would stare at him.

There's a tender patch of skin just under the slant of his jaw which thrums with his pulse. She always places her fingers over her own wrist and is absurdly delighted on the days that they match. She tells herself those are the good days. She tells herself 'he's mine'. These lies are harmless, delicious, and stave off the gentle madness. Some women don't even have that much, so she knows to count her blessings.