He had never asked personal questions, never done more than smile kindly at her when she was feeling down or given her a gentle pat on the back when she needed one. Their relationship had always been strictly professional, aside from the nights out drinking, but those had been her doing and for her sake alone. She knew everything about him and he about her, but they had never strayed across the line that separated business partners and people who had a genuine interest in one another. To her he had always been Wataya, the bumbling excuse for a partner, the big bear of a man who drove a car too small for his oversized body and made her coffee every morning.
But now she was beginning to understand. To him, she was something different. She was more than an associate. She was a woman.
And this was a dangerous thing.
She pulled her hand free of his, the task difficult considering the strength of his grip, subconsciously twisting the thin band on her ring finger. He made a sound of discontentment, taking her chin in one hand, staring into her eyes with such intensity that she felt her knees buckle beneath her. He was strong and she was weak, and that was how it had always been. "Stop it," he said firmly, and her hands fell to her sides. "Listen to me for a moment."
"Wataya--"
"Please." He was struggling to be firm, to be harsh, to command her in the way he never did. It was because he was stronger that he was gentle with her, that he was submissive and obedient... but now, now it was different, and now he couldn't afford to be gentle because he was trying to talk some sense into her. She knew what he was trying to do and knew that she needed it, but she would still resist. She would always resist. "Narumi-keibuhou..." he began, then shook his head, correcting himself. "Madoka."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I care about you." He released her chin and reached for her hands, for her ring finger, his eyes focused on that thin piece of metal, the bond that still connected her to Narumi Kiyotaka, wherever he was. "Because he doesn't deserve you..."
She yanked her hand away and knew that the action was like a slap across the face. "Stop it."
"No."
"What right do you have to tell me something like that? What... what right..." She was collapsing, crumbling, losing herself. He had already said what they both knew was true and she had pushed him away regardless. She still wouldn't admit to the truth. "Kiyotaka-san is my husband..."
"He doesn't deserve that title." He took a step forward, his gaze still pleading with her, begging her to listen. "How long can you stay his wife? How long can you wait for him to come back? How long do I have to watch you do this to yourself?"
"Do you expect me to give up on him?"
"He would have wanted you to be happy." He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek, a tear she hadn't even been aware of until that very moment. "You're not happy..."
She was torn between walking away and giving in, and found herself able to do neither, only stood in place and cried, not caring about the tears that slid down her face and dripped onto the collar of her shirt. He said nothing else, continuing to wipe the moisture away as well as he could, gradually drawing closer to her, finally bending to enfold her in his arms. It was a mismatched embrace, her small, lean figure almost crushed by his considerably larger one, her head pressed into his chest, his arms easily circling her back with length to spare. She felt like a little girl, one being hugged by a family member and smothered by warm affection of the unfamiliar kind. "Wataya," she murmured, the word muffled, "don't..."
"I'm sorry." He smoothed her hair, his voice cracking. "I hate him."
"Why?"
"Because he's still making you cry."
"Kiyotaka-san is my husband," she said again, "and I can't change that..."
"Why won't you do it?" She lifted her head and saw the desperation in his eyes, the need, the wanting, everything she was forcing herself to deny in the name of an abandoned marriage. "Why won't you leave him? Take off the ring, at least... stop thinking about him so much..."
"I can't."
"The ring doesn't mean anything to you anymore, right?" He looked at her, wanting her, and she could barely restrain herself from wanting him, from wanting to give everything up in the name of this person who had been by her side for months, comforting her, loving her in silence which he had been unwilling to break. That was until this morning, the morning of his divorce and her collapse into tears on the floor when she had realized that it had all been because of her. His wife had thought that he had been cheating, and even though he hadn't been, Madoka had realized the truth--that Wataya had been with her, that he had never been at home, that she was no longer his partner but his love. It was all very dangerous but she couldn't change that now, because the damage had been done, and here he was, confessing and confronting her in one single moment, and... "Do you even love him?" he asked softly, and touched her lips with his thumb. "Can you tell me that?"
"No..."
"No?"
"No," she said, and decided. "I don't..."
It wasn't relief that she saw wash over his face but understanding, peace, and even a little sympathy, the knowledge that she had finally been able to admit what he had struggled with for so long. "Madoka..." he began. "If that's the case, then--"
"I don't want this, Wataya."
"Madoka..."
"It's wrong. It's... we're not supposed to be like this..."
He reached for her hand and slid the ring off her finger, allowing it to fall to the floor with a short clink, wiping another tear from her cheek as he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed away her fears, her doubts, her insecurities and all of her guilt. And she surrendered, forgetting the ring, and forgetting Narumi Kiyotaka.