Read Novel Full Chapter 576: Yuko’s Shyness
Chapter 576: Yuko’s Shyness
Haruna’s laughter exploded like fireworks—loud, relentless, and deliberately cruel. "Ohhh, come on, Sister Yuko! Don’t act like you’re some shy little bride! I’m happy for you! Jack’s a catch—tall, strong, attentive—" She waggled her eyebrows, her grin widening as Yuko’s face burned crimson.
"HARUNA!" Yuko’s voice shattered like glass, her humiliation so thick it choked the air. Her hands flew to her cheeks, as if she could smother the heat radiating off them.
"Y-You—! I—! That’s not—!" She stumbled over her words, her brain short-circuiting under the weight of her sister’s teasing.
I didn’t even need to push Haruna this time. She was already darting toward the kitchen, cackling as Yuko lunged after her, fingers curled like claws. "Mom! MOM! Save me, Sister is trying to kill me!"
Kasumi didn’t even look up from stirring the miso soup. "Oh, Yuko. Always so dramatic." But the smirk playing at her lips betrayed her amusement. "Though I did hear you last night. Quite... enthusiastic, weren’t you?"
Yuko froze mid-step, her entire body locking up like she’d been struck by lightning. "M-Mom—!" Her voice squeaked, her throat tightening. [No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.]
She pressed her palms to her burning cheeks, as if she could will herself to disappear. "I—I wasn’t—! It wasn’t—!"
Oh, sweetheart. If only you knew how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I leaned back in my chair, swirling the coffee in my cup as I listened to the delicious chaos unfold. Yuko was drowning in this dream, her carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of her own mortification. And the best part? She still hadn’t realized I was the one pulling every string.
Haruna, ever the instigator, leaned in with a mock-whisper. "You know, if you really want to keep it a secret, you should at least try to be quieter next time. The walls aren’t that thick."
Yuko’s face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. "There won’t be a next time!" she hissed, her voice trembling.
"Oh, really?" Haruna’s tone was sugar-sweet, but the smirk in her voice was razor-sharp. "Then why are your ears still red? And why do you keep glancing at the door like you’re expecting him to walk in?"
Yuko made a strangled noise, her hands flying up to cover her face. "I.. I’m not! Shut up, Haruna!"
"What? It’s true!" Haruna giggled, dodging as Yuko swiped at her. "You’re practically glowing, sister. It’s adorable."
I stayed in the dining room, watching as Yuko’s embarrassment reached its peak. She whirled toward me, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and something far more vulnerable. "This is all your fault!" she snapped, storming over. "How could you let me be humiliated like this?!"
The moment Kasumi and Haruna stepped into the dining room, the scent of miso soup and steamed rice filling the air, I knew exactly how this would unfold. Kasumi’s sharp eyes landed on Yuko first, her expression a perfect blend of maternal warmth and disciplined reproach.
"Yuko." Her voice was soft, but the weight of it made Yuko flinch as if she’d been struck. "How are you speaking to your husband?" Kasumi’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Yuko, her tone laced with disappointment. "Is this what I taught you?"
Yuko’s entire body tensed, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. "I.... I’m sorry, Mom..." The words tasted like ash in her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper. But then her eyes locked onto Kasumi’s face, and something in her expression shifted—hardened. A flicker of defiance cut through the humiliation.
I didn’t need to see her thoughts to know what was coming. But I wanted to.
So I reached out with my Telepathy, slipping into her mind like a shadow.
[No...] Her thoughts were a storm, chaotic and raw. [No, no, NO. Why do I have to listen to her? This isn’t real. This is just a DREAM, Yuko. You don’t have to obey her. You don’t have to obey any of this. WAKE UP.]
Her mental voice was frantic, desperate. She pinched the inside of her wrist, her nails digging in until I knew it had to hurt. [Wake UP!]
Nothing.
Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow gasps. [This isn’t happening. This isn’t HAPPENING.]
But it was.
I watched as her body betrayed her, her limbs locking up, her eyes widening with something akin to terror. She was trapped—not just in the dream, but in the realization that she couldn’t escape it. Not by force. Not by will. Not by anything.
She was mine.
I stood smoothly, my chair gliding back without a sound, and closed the distance between us. Yuko didn’t move, didn’t breathe—she was a statue, frozen in place, her mind screaming while her body refused to respond.
The moment her sharp, frozen gaze locked onto us, I didn’t hesitate. My arm wrapped around Yuko’s waist, pulling her against me as if shielding her from the storm brewing in her mother’s eyes. The air between us crackled with tension, but my voice remained low, deliberate—each word a bridge between misunderstanding and truth.
"Mother-in-law," I began, my fingers tracing idle circles on Yuko’s hip, grounding her—or maybe grounding myself—"don’t take this the wrong way. Yuko isn’t scolding me." A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through Yuko’s frame, and I tightened my hold just enough to let her know I had her.
"This... this is just how she loves me." My lips brushed the shell of her ear as I spoke, a whisper meant only for her. "Her fire, her stubbornness—it’s all for me. Always has been."
Kasumi and Haruna exchanged a glance, so knowing it might as well have been a shared secret, their laughter was soft as morning sunlight filtering through the curtains.
It was the kind of sound that made the air feel warmer, the kind that made Yuko’s skin prickle with awareness—of them, of me, of the way her pulse had started to race the moment I’d pulled her onto my lap.
Yuko squirmed against me, her voice dropping to a mortified whisper that tickled against my collarbone. "What are you doing?! Let me go—Mom and Haruna are right there!" Her fingers dug into my wrist, not to push me away, but to anchor herself, as if she feared she might otherwise dissolve into the embarrassment burning her cheeks.