Chapter 13

"You can't keep fighting her like that," Kanda chided.

"I didn't start it," Mari rolled her eyes. It was a childish excuse. But none of her siblings were ever scolded like Mari was. Never gotten the disappointed sigh. Never forgotten for being their pride and joy. Mari stopped being envious when she realized that there was no point in vying for her parents' approval.

For a while, all she needed was Louise. Her mentor. Mari used to revere the way Louise would clap for her when she played it exactly as her mentor envisioned it. The way that she believed in Mari in a way that no one else would. How ambitious Louise was in molding a champion, not just on a national level – but on a worldly scale.

It was all Mari knew. Nothing else but the 88 keys on the Steinway she had in their grand living room. It felt like her world had swallowed itself whole when there was no more Louise. No more music. Mari was lost and horrendously unprepared for life without anyone to rely on.

Yuki sighed. "She's getting old, Mari. Honestly, it's a miracle she didn't faint when you yelled back at her last night."

"Filial piety is something I don't have, remember?" Mari muttered.

The three siblings waited outside their father's hospital suite until visitation hours were finally allowed. None of the three could actually visit during regular hours – all were far too busy with their work. Approval was needed and thus, another checkup by the doctors had to be done. Truly, private health care felt more like being coddled at this point, Mari thought to herself.

"She never thought you would come back," Kanda explained.
"And when you did," Yuki continued. "You never went to see her."
Mari shrugged. "What would we even talk about?"
"Well, Louise would have been a good starting point," Kanda offered a suggestion. "Why didn't you tell either of us?"

The middle child crossed her arms. "What was the point? Yuki was too young to bear the emotional burden. You were across the world in Boston," she pointed to Kanda. "I mean, I got counselling. I think I would have turned out very differently had I not."

"You got counselling?" the word rolled off Yuki's tongue, souring her expression.
"Counselling, therapy, whatever you want to call it," Mari rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it made me functional and I'm grateful for it."
Kanda sighed. "This doesn't look good, Mari."
"Neither does crippling depression," Mari retorted.

"Are you on meds?" Yuki chimed in.
Mari blinked. "Why do we avoid mental illness like the plague?"
"Are you… okay?" they both asked in their own way, simultaneously.

The siblings looked at their sister as though she were a spectacle. Mari stood up from the seat and faced her brother and sister.

"I'm fine," she firmly stated with her arms crossed. "And even if I wasn't, I'd go see someone about it."
"You can't tell mother about this," Kanda huffed. "She'll think you're mentally insane."

Mari rolled her eyes. "I took care of myself when no one else could. I don't think there is anything wrong with taking care of your mental health. Being hush-hush about it won't help."
"Just… keep it quiet," Yuki urged. "People don't respond well to these things."
"Yeah," Mari scoffed. "I can tell."

Her siblings shared a look of a worry between them. Mari was always the wildcard. The one who never turned out to be quite as everyone expected. The quiet docile child of the family had never been Yuki, nor Kanda. It was Mari – and it was evident that she had grown up.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, turning the heads of the Takuya children. It was the matriarch, of course.
"Mother," Kanda was the first to greet the elder. He was her favourite, after all.
"Are you alright?" Yuki also did not hesitate to show concern for their mother. Mari only stood with her arms crossed, trying her best to keep her eyes from rolling.
"I am doing alright," the mother answered with a sigh. She gave Mari a once-over and sighed disappointedly. Mari did not hold back a glare this time. It was only second nature at this point.

The family entered the room of the patient. He laid upright, conscious this time around. It was certainly different from the last time the family had visit him. The children greeted their father quietly.

"Mari," the father was surprised to note the presence of his middle child. "You're here," he croaked through the oxygen mask.
"Of course," Mari answered nonchalantly while their mother glared.
"Are you well?"
"I would ask the same of you," the middle child half-joked.

"They say I'm going in for surgery," the elder told her, as if she wouldn't have known. Mari had been gone for so long, he almost did not recognize how tall she had grown. How beautiful she had become after nearly a decade – her style was soft but sophisticated. He only remembered her in the gowns she wore on stage as a teenager when she competed for the national title.

"Yes," Mari softly confirmed. "It was the earliest they could do, I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry, my dear?" her father softly asked. "You didn't give me a heart attack. Did you arrange for this?"
"I tried my best," the former pianist answered quietly.

Her father turned to the mother of his children. "I told you she would turn out fine. She has friends in high places," he pointed to Mari weakly. "High enough places to save me."
"We'll talk about this when you're better," the matriarch patted her husband on the arm.

"She has a PhD in Medicinal Chemistry, my goodness – she is the smart one out of the family, isn't she?" Her father could only smile weakly. Kanda and Yuki could only nod and return the smile. They had to agree with that.
Mari raised her eyebrows in surprise. "How did you know?"
"You think I don't keep tabs on you, my child? Someone had to." It was obvious that the mother did not.

The doctorate shook her head. "No."
"You're my flesh and blood," the sentence was followed by a fit of coughs.

Mari let her father recover before she asked the topic of interest from the night prior.

"Then did you know about Louise?"
"Yes," he nodded solemnly. "A shame."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Mari threw her hands up in exasperation.
"It isn't a good topic to bring about, don't you think?"

Mari only sighed and shook her head. "I cried alone. I grieved. I was so incredibly shaken as a child and you thought to not even comfort me? I was sixteen. I was not even an adult." How could Mari not feel the anger that raged through her veins?

"You always took care of yourself," their father responded, almost proudly.
"I was a child. I needed someone," Mari almost cried out. It was stupid to think of now – already over a decade had past but the feelings of loneliness were still raw. The emptiness she had felt suddenly swallowed her stomach whole, she felt a darkness that she sunk into years ago come crawling back at the back of her mind. The guilt ate her up alive.

Cognitive behavioural therapy only worked if you practiced it.

It was not my fault.

I cannot change the events of what happened, no matter what scenario played out.

Being a pianist is not the only thing that defined me.

"I'm sorry," was all her father could say. "You seemed to do so well on your own, Mari. From Harvard, to Oxford, and now Toudai. Only good things could be said about you, my child."
"Well evidently not good enough," Mari snarled at her mother.

"You don't seem to mind what the rest of the world thinks though, do you?" the old man tried to chuckle. But it hurt to do anything except to sit in bed and rest.
"Correct," Mari rolled her eyes. "Not that I needed to hear it but I would appreciate no more interference with how I choose to live."

"You live as you wish, dear," the father granted his child's wish. "All my children should live as they wish, so long as they are contributing to society."
"Well said," Kanda chimed in. Yuki could only nod in agreement, beaming at their father.

The Takuyas were still of course, the model family.

Mari couldn't help but to feel out of place despite it all.


"I don't know, it felt like an intervention," Mari huffed.

Kyouya struggled to keep up with her. How did he end up in this situation? He was running with her at 7 AM in the morning around the block of the park that was nearby her condo. He had an early morning call with an American business partner. Their international expansion came at the price of his sleep schedule. Mari seemed to have a morning regimen that just so happened to align with his stupidly crazy hours on the weekend.

It was nice in theory but he was also on the verge of death through exhaustion.

"Like, what the hell? Telling me not to go to therapy and keeping it on the down low?" she continued without even losing her breath.
Kyouya wanted to die as he gasped for air. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and the back of his neck. He felt sticky from the sweat that clung to his body.
"And then my dad drops a bombshell on me that he already knew about Louise after all these years? I couldn't help but to be angry for my 16 year old self."

He wished that she would just stop for a minute. But he didn't even have enough breath to say the word stop. She was jogging and speaking with him at the pace of a kilometer every 8 and a half minutes like it was child's play.

"And now we're suddenly playing happy families all over again? Am I normal for feeling resentful? Like, I went through at least a year of therapy to at least function normally again while in Ouran. I left this toxic envir—"

Mari looked to her left and realized that her friend was no longer running beside her. She turned to find Kyouya hunched over the railing of a bridge that overlooked a koi pond. He was huffing and gasping for air. Guilt washed through her immediately before she jogged over.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. Mari crouched down to meet his eyes. He looked like death. "You didn't have to come, you know."
He didn't even respond. He couldn't. Kyouya was still trying to catch his breath. Mari stood and offered a hand for him to get upright again. He took it with ease.
"You're a good friend," Mari murmured. "I know you hate mornings. I was surprised when you said yes when I told you I was going for a run. Who knew you'd be up at 6 AM," she sighed. Mari had been running in the mornings for years. It was a habit, nowadays. It felt strange not starting off her morning with a run.

"Why," he gasped. "Do you even," he inhaled again. "Do this?"
"It feels good," Mari smiled weakly. "You'll feel it if run more."
"This is…" Kyouya was parched. It was hard to swallow. His whole body ached. He felt blood pumping through the veins of his forehead.
"Exercise," Mari finished the sentence for him. "It only sucks the first couple of times. Come on, let's get you some electrolytes."

They took an elevator up the skyscraper with Mari flashing her card at the security and nodding to let her guest through. It was a penthouse that overlooked the city of Tokyo. Mount Fuji was in clear sight. This was certainly the kind of property a trust fund could buy.

She had minimal furniture. A living room that hardly looked like it was lived in. A bookshelf, no, multiple bookshelves with textbooks and books she had collected over the years. Her kitchen was spotless. Her fridge full of fresh produce when she opened the door to grab him a refreshing beverage.

"Nice place," the Ootori commented now with his breath back.
"Thanks," Mari was half-expecting some quip about indulgence and luxury for someone who always spoke about being in the 1%. The truth was that Mari liked having her space. Real estate was always going to be a safe investment.

"Half this place is empty," Kyouya looked around. There was a large area that could have been for seating in the living room – but instead she had a measly sofa and love seat. A large-screen TV and a stand that probably was rarely used given how busy she was. Mari expected no guests and did not care to have any.
"Um, it's uh, the minimalist… trend," Mari joked. She mostly used this place to sleep and cook when needed. It had a place to store her closet. Everything else was pretty much decoration.

"The view is lovely," Kyouya admitted.
"Yes," Mari agreed. "The um, minimalist furniture is meant to not obstruct the view." It was obvious none of it was intentional.

"Is this where all your trust fund goes to?"
The woman scoffed. "I make money too."
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "Your salary could not buy this place unless you worked 50 years." Real estate in Tokyo was scarce. Everyone knew at least that much.

"You can shower here," Mari offered, changing the topic after looking at him for a while. Kyouya had sweat buckets trying to keep up with her. He was marginally better than before.
"With you?" he took a sip from his drink coolly. Comments like these didn't faze her.
"There are multiple washrooms on the floor," Mari shrugged. Her entire flat was a whole floor of a skyscraper. There was plenty of room for one. Even four people could live comfortably here. "Take your pick," she told him.

"Where will you shower?" Kyouya put down his beverage. He nearly reached for his glasses only to remember that he wore contacts today.
"Wherever you won't be," she smirked.

Mari left him to explore her flat. Not there was much to snoop around – the minimal furniture truly made her entire place look empty, it still looked like she was in the process of moving in. Finding the guest room and its own ensuite bathroom was not difficult. He could already hear the water running in her own master bedroom. By the time he came out, he realized his clothes were taken away and replaced by an old t-shirt of his that he hadn't seen in years.

He stepped out into her living room with a pair of sweatpants that were evidently hers, and not his. They cut off in the middle of his calf. Mari was making coffee using her glass flask. Simple and easy, the coffee drained through the filter for the aroma to fill up the entire kitchen.

"I didn't know you still had this," Kyouya pointed to his old Harvard t-shirt. The letters had now faded after years of wearing it as pyjamas.

She only shrugged as she poured the filtered coffee into a mug before sliding it across her white marble island."It didn't feel right to throw it away," she admitted before taking a sip of her own coffee, two parts cream to sugar.

"Why not?" Kyouya blinked.
Mari shrugged. "I don't know. Would you throw away something that Tamaki left behind at your place?"
"Yes," he answered. The dumb blond probably deserved it. And besides, Tamaki could easily buy whatever he left behind.
"Fine, how about…" Mari tried to think of someone from the Host Club that he did not despise. She drew a blank. Quite frankly, Mari did not pay enough attention to the club during her years in Ouran. The only person she really knew other than Tamaki was Haruhi.

"Thanks," he told her. Kyouya could tell that Mari was struggling.
"Don't worry about it," she brushed off. It really wasn't that big of a deal. "Sorry about this morning."
"Don't worry about it," he reciprocated.

"You almost passed out," Mari reminded. "Sorry, it was just me dumping all my stupid baggage for the past week or so. I didn't think you would text."
"You said you ran in the mornings."
"And you wanted to run?" Mari narrowed her eyes in confusion.
"It sounded nice in theory." Successful people always had some sort of fitness regimen. His was never really running. Some strength training every once in a while. He liked to swim in their private indoor pool in the mansion instead.

"Sorry to disappoint," she offered. "I still owe you a meal."
"For what?"
"A lot," Mari admitted. "Between handling my father's medical affairs to listening to me talk about my stupid problems."

"And you think a meal would suffice?" the Ootori raised an eyebrow at her. Mari couldn't tell if he was joking. But judging how the Ootori worked, it probably wasn't a joke.
"I'm indebted to you," Mari sighed. "Sorry, don't have a lot of friends. Or rather, friends who are not really part of my work-life. This isn't really something I can fix with a coffee run or covering for someone's experiment while they are gone…" she murmured mostly to herself. She averted her eyes out of embarrassment.

"I was kidding," he told her earnestly. "Pulling your leg, as they would say."
"Your delivery is awful, it always has been," Mari responded without missing a beat. "But I do appreciate you and I meant what I said." She reciprocated his honesty.

He reached for her hand, the motion so swift that it only felt natural to the both of them. Mari did not pull away, nor did she shy away from the eye contact they made. He gave a small squeeze to her perfectly manicured hands, a subtle sign of her high-class upbringing. The Ootori did not linger and pulled away to drink more of his coffee. Mari almost reached for his hand again, missing the warmth of his touch. Instead, Mari held onto her ceramic mug that was now lukewarm from the coffee that had cooled.

"What are you going to do with all this space?" he changed the topic, looking across her near empty flat. They were back to the same topic about her flat.
"Live in it," Mari responded dumbly. "What else?"
"It hardly looks like a home, Mari," the Ootori pointed out. "The only furnished part of this place is your bookshelf."

Mari shrugged. "Whatever. It's my space. I like it the way it is."

"It looks temporary," Kyouya commented. "Must be because you are so used to moving," he continued.

She blinked and let the words sink in. "Yeah," she softly responded. "I guess," her admittance was reluctant.

"Are you going to move again?"
"Probably not," Mari sighed. "Unless I get hired to be a professor elsewhere."
"There are many universities in the world," Kyouya reminded. "I always thought you would never come back."

The scientist shook her head. "Me neither."
"So, why?"

She didn't know. It was a convenient option, quite frankly. No need to deal with work visas. No need to deal with the paperwork that came with being a resident in a country that was not her own. Mari did not realize how Japanese she was until she was immersed in Western culture. Her subtle bowing of her head was a habit that she had formed since childhood, something westerners always found peculiar. Her accent was this amalgamation of her time in Boston and her British English. Moving from Boston to London only confused her speech, eventually settling back into a soft English accent that could only be heard in a few distinct words.

"It was convenient," was all Mari could say after a minute of thought.
"What about your family?" Kyouya pried.
"Less convenient," she grumbled. "But it really just is my mother who is a bit of a nuisance. I do love my nephew very much though. He is a joy."

Kyouya remembered the photos on her desk in her office. Nothing else about her office was personal. Just like his own, it was always a professional setting without any trace of his own personal life. But Mari made the exception for her nephew.

"He seems bright," Kyouya murmured softly.
"Oh, he certainly is," Mari smiled. "He loves museums. I would love to take him into our lab but it really is not suitable for a 5 year old. Too many hazards."

"Does he have a penchant for the sciences, then?"
"I hope so," Mari beamed. "But regardless, he is a sweet boy. I am sure he will find his passion."

Kyouya had no interest in children. But for some reason, she made them sound like they truly were a joy. The brightness of her smile that lit up the room when she spoke about her nephew was something he hadn't seen in her for years. Kyouya could not relate very well to the topic of children, nor family.

"So are you going to see a therapist?" he coolly shifted the topic.

Mari shrugged. "I'll probably have to go to a couple before I settle on one that I feel is a good fit. But yeah, I should see one so I can stop burdening you with my silly problems," she brushed off.

"They aren't silly," Kyouya told her. "I'm sorry."
Mari blinked at him. "Why are you sorry?" Mari hadn't heard him apologize so often in the decade that she had known him for.
"I don't know how to help," the Ootori admitted.

"I wasn't asking you to," the scientist gave a small smile of reassurance. "If it is anyone who should be sorry, it is me. I shouldn't have subjected you to this emotional baggage. It is none of your fault."
"I don't mind," Kyouya quickly clarified. "I…" he didn't know what else to say. He didn't want her to leave him. He used to pride himself in being emotionally distant until somehow he fell into this trance of suddenly letting his feelings take over. In the one time they had come close to sharing something beyond friendship, they were pulled back to reality.

The reality was that they were not made to be anything more than friends.

He knew that.

She knew that.

And quite frankly, that was more than enough that he could ask for. He wanted to respect her boundaries. No matter how much he thought they were opposites, they were never made to attract.

Somehow, they were always destined to repel.


"So, do young people go out for a run these days?"

Kyouya looked up from the monitor of his computer. Fuyumi stood at his office door with a bright grin on her face. It was nearly the end of the workday and his secretary hadn't scheduled for any meetings at this point in time. Kyouya made a mental note to make sure that his entire day was full, or at least, ensure that Fuyumi thought his day was too full for her to pop in.

"I suppose youngsters are all about keeping fit," she thought to herself. "Did you know she's flying to Switzerland later this week? And so are you!"

The heir tried to keep a calm façade. "I am meeting with investors on building a new facility using the Ootori Medicare equipment." Their European and US expansion was well underway.

"And your dear Mari is in Zurich to present her drug development that the Ootori Corporation has so generously funded at a conference. Did you know that?"

He really didn't. Quite frankly, Mari probably did not know he was going to be in Switzerland either.

"You know what's strange is that she flies economy," Fuyumi looked at her tablet. "We all know she could easily afford to fly first-class like we do."
"Stop stalking my friend," Kyouya demanded. He wanted to snatch the tablet out of his sister's hands.

"What? As if you don't know this already?" His sister rolled her eyes.
"I didn't," the brother answered truthfully. Unlike Fuyumi, Kyouya had a real job. And he wasn't obsessive. "We have something called boundaries. Also, I'm not crazy like you."

"Is she crazy?" Fuyumi raised an eyebrow at him.
Kyouya glared at his sister. "No. Please stay out of my life."

"I haven't told her about Mari, you know. Mother won't get off my back about this."
"Then that is your problem," Kyouya shrugged. "Her problems are not yours. Learn to stand up for yourself, Fuyumi."

"Easier said than done," his sister grumbled. "So what's her deal?"
"No deal. We are good friends," the Ootori repeated. It felt like he was a broken record player. "Nothing more."

Fuyumi frowned. "What woman does not want to be with one of the most eligible bachelors in Japan?"
"A woman who does not believe in marriage," Kyouya sighed. They had gone over this. "If you are telling me to convince her otherwise, you have no idea who you are working with."

"Are you saying you've tried to convince her?" Fuyumi raised an eyebrow.

"No. She has a fair point."
"So, you two are just friends," Fuyumi repeated. "She doesn't believe in marriage. You refuse to see any other woman but her. Are you sure you're doing it right, Kyouya?"

"I'm not sure what you are insinuating," the Ootori turned off the monitor of his computer. He got ready to leave his office. Dealing with Fuyumi was the last straw after a long day of work.
"Why do you pine over someone who is emotionally unavailable?"

"I'm not pining over her," Kyouya sighed. "What is so wrong about being friends with her?"

His sister sat down while he stood up to leave. Fuyumi watched as his brother packed his briefcase with documents he hadn't gotten through for the day.

"You've met with heiresses to pharmaceutical companies, investment firms, and real estate tycoons. They are all well-educated, raised with poise and class, and are more than beautiful. I would know. I vetted them all. Yet you're fixated –"
"—I'm not fixated," the brother corrected.
"Fine," Fuyumi stopped herself. "I'll be honest. These women are of higher calibre than Mari. They are richer. They are of better lineage. They are businesswomen with ambition that go beyond just being a housewife. So what is it, Kyouya? What is wrong with these women that you wouldn't even blink an eye for?"

Kyouya shrugged. "I'm not interested."
"But you're interested in this one? The middle-child of a real-estate family. A former world-class pianist with a doctorate to her name and nothing else but a trust fund?" Mari was truly nothing compared to every other fish in the sea. And by sea, it was more of a small pond for the rich.

"No," the Ootori denied swiftly. "I'm not interested in her, either." He walked over to the door and reached for the handle. "My secretary will see you out."

"Why do you lie to yourself?" his sister called him out. "You're only going to get hurt in the end, Kyouya. Don't be stupid."

Don't be stupid, he repeated to himself.


Mari remembered presenting at her first conference alongside a few of her labmates when she was doing her Master's degree. A part of her couldn't tell if her fingers shook from the coffee or from the nervousness. The crowd of accomplished academics were always waiting to pounce on every little detail. They were shielded by the dark, and only glares that bounced off the light of the glasses could be seen.

Mari awaited her turn at the symposium. She listened to the string of accomplishments that followed her name. Research awards won in her name. Scholarships she had qualified for. It was so odd that she had even accomplished it all. Even then, Mari still felt inadequate in front of everyone. It was a feeling that she was never really able to shrug off. She later learned that everyone felt the same way, the imposter syndrome was a common sentiment shared by all graduate students and beyond.

Her 20 minute presentation went by quickly. It seemed to be received well overall, provided that Mari was able to answer all the questions with ease. It was a learned skill after all these years – she had come a long way from the stuttering grad student whose slides were poorly ordered with an ego that was far too sensitive to handle criticism.

Mari took off from the rest of the conference back to her hotel room to find a text from Kyouya.

Caught the last bit of your talk at the conference. I missed the majority of it due to other business engagements. Hope you're well.

Mari responded within minutes.

What are you doing in Switzerland?

Business, of course. He responded quickly. Have you gotten dinner yet?

No, have you?

He texted her the address of a restaurant that only happened to be minutes away. It had a Michelin star, of course. Mari's stomach grumbled as her only source of sustenance were dry sandwiches and stale coffee. She had spent most of her day jet-lagged as she tried to keep her energy levels up for her presentation and while networking with industry professionals. She would fly back to Tokyo in a few days time.

Mari looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. The eyebags under her eyes were no joke. Somehow, the makeup had worn off after a full day, probably because she had been rubbing her eyes. Mari took off her contacts for the rest of the day, hiding her eyebags with a pair of Wayfarer framed eyeglasses.

Mari couldn't quite tell if the pair of glasses aged her or made her seem younger from the trendy shape. But she wasn't here to impress anyone. It was just Kyouya.

Just Kyouya.

It had always been just him. No frills. Mari never treated him the way his business clients did, or how his friends did. It didn't matter what clout he had back in high school, or even now. It never mattered to Mari because he was just… him.

Mari forgot when she grew comfortable with him. Perhaps, on one of those nights at Harvard as they spoke about the most mundane things. Between campus life, arguing over wine and beer, healthcare policy, or whose family was the most dysfunctional. He always won the last one.

But still, he was just Kyouya. Nothing else.

A part of her felt guilty and Mari couldn't pinpoint why.

Maybe this is something to unpack during therapy, she half-joked to herself. Mari sat upon a whole mound of unanswered feelings.

Louboutins on cobble roads were a poor choice. Mari did not pack those. Instead, she had these fall grey suede boots with a chunky heel and still gave very low leeway for Mari to keep her balance. Mari thanked the driver in German, remembering only bits of it from her childhood. She had Louise to thank for that. But even the thought of her made her stomach drop.

Mari turned to the reflection of herself through the glass doors. Her hair was held in a loose bun held together by bobby pins that were on their last days, it was a more casual look from her tight bun that she had initially put up for the morning. Mari held onto her black cross-shoulder bag, draped across her beige trench coat. She touched up her makeup while back at the hotel, a nude lipstick with a neutral eyeshadow. Her eyes were lined sharply with an extra coat of mascara. Pearl earrings finished off the look. She looked quite casual for an upscale place, but that was the least of her worries.

Her stomach growled while she was led to the table. It was empty to her surprise. Kyouya was always early to these things. Mari sat down, engrossed by the view of the Alps. Of course, he'd ask for the best seat in the restaurant. Alps at sunset was an incredible sight.

"Mademoiselle," the waiter greeted the guest with two menus, one for wine and the other for the main courses. "Your friend sends his deepest apologies."

Mari looked up in surprise. "Apologies?"

"I've been asked to relay the message to you by his assistant. He is currently caught up in a business engagement and will not be able to make it in time. He did insist on having you dine here, with all expenses taken care of."

The woman blinked. She felt silly for taking so long to comprehend that Kyouya wouldn't be here, across from her, casually making stupidly rich comments and updating her on the status of European healthcare policies. No doubt, he would also comment on the pharmaceutical industries as well.

"I can take care of my own expenses, thank you," Mari nodded politely. She gave a small smile.

"As you wish," the waiter left the woman to gaze over the menu.

Mari took in the view in silence. She ordered a glass of wine. What was this feeling? Was it fatigue? Perhaps, being jetlagged and all. But it was more than just being tired.

She was disappointed.

Why was she disappointed in his absence? Did she really crave his presence? His arrogant ass with the stupidly smug smirk plastered across his face every time he flaunted his wealth and power?

She sipped her wine after a scoff to herself. Mari knew that was a lie, especially after all these years. Kyouya only flaunted his wealth and power to her as a form of irony for her. He knew that his wealth did not impress her, nor did his power ever instil fear in her. It made her laugh on most days. For others, it was always a reminder for them to understand that the Ootori was no meagre competitor in the world of business.

Mari ate her meal quietly, watching as the Alps slowly disappeared into the night as the sun set for the day. It was a serene dinner to herself as she broiled in her own thoughts. None that she could pour out to any company. None that would offer just an ear to listen, no opinions needed.

Goodness, he really was her only friend after all these years. The only one that stuck through all her degrees, her petty drama with the rest of her rich family, the one who somehow accepted her emotional unavailability.

It dawned upon her that she had always been too selfish to notice. Too caught up in her own problems, blinded by her own emotions that she always had a façade for. She had always labelled him as the man who was far too disillusioned by reality.

But she was a hypocrite this entire time to believe that she was not the same.


Mari moved across two oceans by herself. Loneliness was something she stopped feeling after she had settled into her own routine. The quiet nature of every morning with only the kettle that whistled throughout the kitchen. The pouring of the water through the coffee filter. Each drop of coffee echoed through the marbled room.

It was not quite the same in a hotel but it was similar while her kettle was on. She was in the midst of getting ready for the day, starting it off with a cup of tea. Fresh fruit and pastries were delivered to her door. It was no doubt, Mari still held onto her expensive habits from her childhood.

It was the second day of the conference and she was to speak on a panel. Mari packed light and wore the same pearl earrings. She looked nearly the same as yesterday, not that people really noticed nor cared. It was the science that spoke for itself, not how well she dressed.

As soon as Mari stepped off the stage with other panelists, she was caught by some former colleagues from Oxford. Before she knew it, it was already mid-afternoon. She hadn't intended on staying so long, in fact Mari had planned to take some time to explore the touristy sites. She sighed to herself. Perhaps she would wander around the town and save the hiking for another time when she had time to vacation.

Mari let her hair down and took off her conference lanyard. She had no set itinerary. She would eat whenever she got hungry at wherever was closest. For now, she decided to take herself to the centre of the city and wander from there. Her phone buzzed by the time she reached the lake. Mari took in the sunshine and the views before glancing at her phone.

Sorry about yesterday. Dinner tonight?

She had other plans to be a tourist while she still could. The Ootori was probably too busy to spend time with her to begin with. Mari did not want to intrude on his own plans.

I wanted to explore the city. Sorry, you go on ahead.

Kyouya looked at his phone. Explore the city? Kyouya looked up the most popular tourist spots.

Where are you off to? Banhofstrasse? Fraumunster? Or Grossmünster?

Mari rolled her eyes. It was very much like him to figure out an itinerary first. She put her phone back and decided to hop on the tram. She took a nice walk along the lake and then planned to scour through the little alleyways with no set schedule. She received another text a couple minutes later.

I am done meetings by 4:30. Let me know where you are.

It was 2:30 PM. Mari stopped by a small café for a moment, taking in a moment to check the emails on her phone and browsed the web. By the time she had caught up with news around the world and emails, it was nearly 3:30. Her coffee had gotten lukewarm. Her petit chocolate éclair untouched.

I'm out early. Are you free?

Mari looked away from her phone. Everyone bustled about their day. Her sub-par German only got her so far, enough to order off of menus and to read maps well. She was free as a bird. Mari had no other professional engagements to attend to. But something made her feel so trapped beyond the walls of her own thoughts. Something unable to allow her to enjoy the fresh air, the beautiful lake, the towering Alps, and the sweetness in the pastries that were finely made by delicate fingers. Mari could not pinpoint what.

I'll come find you.

How? She wanted to ask. How could he possibly track her down? Whatever method he used, it had to be illegal, Mari thought.

Don't. She typed. Don't find me. Don't come after me. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of it. I never did and never have.

She only sent the first word.