The Yakuza's flower

Not yours

Ume's POV

The moment Hanayama told me "let's go," I was hesitant at first—but then I followed closely behind him.

We walked out of that house, past the guards, the polished wood floors, the stone steps that had seen more blood than dust.

He didn't say a word.

Not when we left the room.

Not even when the guards opened the main doors for us to leave.

Just silence.

I hated it. I hated because it wasn't a silence I could read.

"Can you say something, please..." I asked quietly, almost afraid to break whatever thoughts he was drowning in.

He didn't look at me.

Didn't stop walking.

Didn't even slow down.

A huge SUV was parked and waiting

He opened the back passenger door for me, not out of kindness, but routine. I sat down, I buckle in and had  prince safely nestled in my arms, wrapped in the blanket that still smelled like Mrs. Hinako's house.

Hanayama got in next to me on the other side

I turned toward the window, the silence thick in my throat. Funny thing, I'd only ever saw him angry once before...Cold. Violent.

But this?

This felt worse.

Because he wouldn't even look at me.

"I told you I didn't lie......" I said, barely above a whisper. "He's not yours..... Ours died.... I'm not trying to trap you or trick you—he's not even fully my blood either, but that doesn't change anything because he's my son."

His eyes kept forward. Jaw tense. That same blank expression he used when preparing for a fight.

"Why do you even care?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Still no answer.

"Right.....still the strong, silent type. Until it's time to throw someone away." I muttered under my breath.

I didn't even know where we were going until we pulled up to a familiar place.

His place.

The quiet house tucked behind heavy gates and long shadows—where I once felt safe, where I once laughed, and loved.

Now it felt like a graveyard of everything we used to be.

Every laugh, every kiss, buried under silence and regret.

The car finally came to a stop and the driver got out.

"No, Why are we here?" I asked, clutching prince just a little tighter.

He didn't answer.

Just stepped out, walked around the car, and opened my door. Again—habit, not warmth.

I stepped out on shaky legs, prince asleep and heavy in my arms.

The silence between us had gone from uncomfortable to suffocating.

" I'm not staying here," I said, stopping before the front steps. "I didn't come back to be with you."

He stopped infront of the door.

Finally, he turned and his eyes met mine.

Dark. Heavy.

"I know."