EPILOGUE
The sun beamed through the open window in Tsuki's kitchen. She was in a black dress; her heels, tossed under her high chair, naturally fell from the tips of her toes. She was hunched over, her hand in the roots of her hair—hair that lay down her back and along her middle spine. She bit her cheek while she read the words of Anisa's favorite book, As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow by Zoulfa Katouh. She cooed every few chapters at the blossoming romance between the male and female lead. She was already at chapter 17 by the time her food dinged in the oven. She lifted her cheek off her balled fist, leaving a mark along the corner of her mouth and cheekbone. She sighed, slipping from the high chair. Her feet pressed against the wooden floors as she walked over to the oven and hunched over.
"I still don't know how to use this thing," she mumbled to herself; she still wasn't used to her brand-new apartment in Shibuya. Her face was greeted by a heat wave, and she opened the oven; a small glass pan lay there with a small slab of salmon. She frowned at the consistency and unappealing nature of the food.
"Eh, Mom always liked her food nearly burned," she thought with a shrug, using a hand towel to grab it from the oven and place it on the stove. She winced, flinging her hand around. "Tssss!" she whined, putting her thumb in her mouth, "It's hot."
She shut the oven and placed her hand on her lower back with a gentle groan. She looked out the window; naturally, she walked over to it. She leaned her torso out a bit, taking in the kindness of the sun and the light breeze that made the wisps of her bangs kiss her face.
"They gave you a good day this year, Mom," Tsuki whispered, taking a world-stopping exhale.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Tsuki blinked, backing away from the window. Her hair whipped as she spun her head around.
"Oh, is my package already here?" she wondered to herself as she walked out of the kitchen. Her feet, wrapped in stockings, slid against the floor as she wandered toward the door. Her fingers grabbed the doorknob. She mumbled something, forgetting to undo the chain lock on the door. She undid it, then reattempted to open the door. It creaked; her eyes wandered toward the ground, expecting a brown box wrapped in tape.
"Oh," her voice was soft; her eyes landed on a black pair of shoes matched with slacks. Her eyes trailed upward; the person's face was met with a bouquet of baby pink tulips. She gasped, stepped back, and looked up.
Bakugo stood there with a calm expression. His lips turned into a downturned smile. Tsuki stepped back, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.
Bakugo stepped toward her. "... Hey," he said. His voice was an octave deeper than she remembered.
"Did I remember his voice wrong?" Her nails formed a fist as she dug her fingers into her palms. "How long has it been? A year? A year and a half?"
She looked at him in confusion. "How— Katsu— How are you—"
"The 7th," he said, his voice echoing gently through the quiet apartment. "Of June." He met her gaze. "These are for, er—" He paused, "Ms. Akai."
Tsuki's heart swelled as she caught his gaze. She reached out and grabbed his hand, full of flowers.
"Thanks," she said, staring up at him, her lips gently parted.
He stepped forward shyly, rubbing the back of his head nervously. He inhaled, grabbing at his collar. Tsuki fawned over him, practically falling for him again in seconds.
His face flushed a deep shade of red. "I know, I missed last year ... I was in Europe with Shoto and Red Riot; there was this data leak," he said, rolling his wrist. He looked at the ground, biting his cheek as he rambled, "And I don't know ... I just thought it had been so long ... I didn't know how to—"
