One and Only | Osamu Miya

Epilogue

Arishira's Point of View:

Six years later...

"Wife, I'm home," Osamu's voice, warm and familiar, drifted from the living room, jolting me awake. I slipped on my indoor slippers, the soft fabric a comforting contrast to the cool floor, and quietly closed the bedroom door. The moment I saw Osamu standing there, a familiar warmth spreading through my chest, I ran to him, my arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug. His arms encircled me, a comforting weight against my back. The scent of him - a comforting blend of his usual cologne and the faint, sweet smell of freshly baked onigiri - filled my senses.

"Hubby..." I murmured, the word barely audible against the pounding of my heart. He gently pulled away from the embrace, his gaze softening as he looked at me, his eyes holding a depth of affection that always managed to steal my breath away. The lines around his eyes, etched by time and laughter, only added to his charm.

"My onigiri sold out completely today," he said, a hint of playful disappointment in his voice, "but I saved some for us." A wide smile bloomed across my face, a spontaneous reaction to his thoughtfulness. Together, we walked to the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of our steps a comforting melody. I grabbed a small, heart-shaped plate from the cupboard - a little gift from Osamu on our anniversary - and carefully arranged the five perfectly formed onigiri he'd brought home.

"Itadakimasu!" We both mumbled, a quiet ritual before digging into the delicious rice balls. We ate contentedly, the silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of our chewing and the occasional contented sigh. The taste of the onigiri, perfectly seasoned and warm, was a delicious reminder of his love and care.

"Hubby," I said, my voice soft, "I'll help you make onigiri tomorrow." Osamu chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

"Weh?" he questioned, a playful eyebrow raised. "Remember last time, wife? All you did was watch me make them."

My lower lip jutted out in a pout, a childish gesture that always seemed to disarm him. He chuckled again, the sound warm and affectionate.

"I was observing you that time," I insisted, my voice firm despite the playful tone. "And don't worry, I swear I'm helping you this time."

He laughed, a genuine, heartfelt sound that made my heart soar. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he smirked. "Don't worry about it, in fact... it's adorable when my cute little wife is just watching."

I rolled my eyes playfully, a familiar response to his teasing. He let out a sheepish laugh, the sound full of affection.

"Seriously, hubby, I'm willing to help!"

Osamu's gaze softened, the teasing fading as he looked at me with genuine affection. "Alright, wife," he said, his voice tender. "I love you."

After we finished eating, Osamu helped me wash the dishes, his hands occasionally brushing against mine, sending shivers down my spine. The simple act, shared between us, felt intimate and meaningful. Afterward, we went to the living room. Without me even asking, Osamu meticulously ironed my nursing scrubs, the crisp lines a testament to his attentiveness. He even hung my lab coat, ensuring it was wrinkle-free and ready for my night shift. His thoughtfulness, a constant in our life together, never ceased to amaze me.

The memories flooded back - our college years, the long distance, the hectic schedules that had stretched us thin. I recalled the time I'd broken up with Osamu during a particularly difficult semester, my mental health spiraling, my academic performance suffering. I'd thought it was the end, the finality of it crushing me. But five months later, a chance encounter in the park, a shared night of tears and confessions, had brought us back together. The strength of our bond, tested and refined by time and distance, had emerged stronger than ever.