Chapter 89: Suzuki Misaki’s Yearning

The night was as deep as ink, and scattered stars twinkled across the firmament.

It was late.

Many people had already drifted off into dreamland.

Yet in a corner of this bustling metropolis, the Shueisha headquarters building still had many offices with bright lights shining.

Among them was the one belonging to Suzuki Misaki.

In japan, the culture of working overtime had long since become a widespread trend, especially for those engaged in text-related work, for whom it was simply an everyday occurrence.

They were often immersed in manuscripts and copywriting, forgetting the passage of time.

Getting off work on time had almost become an extravagant hope for them.

At this moment, Suzuki Misaki, who had maintained a desk-bound posture for a long time, finally tossed away the pen in her hand, picked up the manuscript paper before her, and read it through from beginning to end.

Perhaps quite satisfied with the content she had written, a faint smile quietly crept onto her face without her knowing when.

Upon reading the final line of text, she put down the manuscript paper in her hand, then comfortably spread her arms wide and stretched in a satisfying, lazy gesture.

She was seen first tilting her head back to stretch her neck, then rotating her shoulders left and right, and finally not forgetting to thrust her waist forward a few times.

Her graceful figure was fully displayed, and her exquisite curves were laid bare.

As these movements were completed, the fatigue accumulated in her body dissipated bit by bit.

Glancing at the time, it was already close to ten o’clock at night. Realizing that it was getting late, Suzuki Misaki hurriedly packed up her belongings and prepared to finish work and head home.

Today was indeed a bit late.

On ordinary days, she would at most be busy until eight or nine in the evening before finishing her day’s work, heading home to rest, or writing a bit more of her own favorite things.

Today was different; because she had been so absorbed and immersed in writing, before she knew it, it had gotten this late.

While efficiently organizing her documents, pens, and other office supplies, she secretly mused to herself whether she should write a bit more when she got back tonight...

...

Suzuki Misaki’s home was not too far from her workplace here. Taking the train for twenty minutes brought her back home.

This was an apartment with decent decor, spacious and comfortable. The walls were painted a warm creamy white, and all necessary furniture and appliances were complete, possessing an elegant quality.

However, despite the room being arranged so pleasantly, the entire house exuded a desolate atmosphere, lacking a bit of human warmth.

Suzuki Misaki seemed to have grown accustomed to this, not taking this desolation to heart.

She put down her handbag, then casually kicked off the shoes on her feet, heading straight for the bathroom.

Before long, the bathtub in the bathroom was filled with warm water. Suzuki Misaki slowly immersed herself in the water, feeling the comfort of the current gently caressing her skin, and enjoyed it.

After a long while, just as she finished her bath and came out, she heard a "creak" sound as the front entrance door opened, and her husband returned reeking of alcohol.

Her husband was clearly a bit too drunk today, unable to even walk steadily. Suzuki Misaki sighed—she had been feeling a bit emotional from writing erotica today and originally hoped she could share an intimate moment with her husband!

However, looking at her husband’s drunken appearance, the flame of her hope was extinguished.

Silently stepping forward to support her husband, she trudged step-by-step to help him into the bedroom. After settling him in, Suzuki Misaki slowly retreated from the room.

Returning to the living room, as if all her strength had been drained away, she collapsed onto the sofa in exhaustion, her eyes hollow and her face filled with utter desolation.

Lately, her husband’s attitude toward her had grown increasingly cold, and communication between the two of them had also dwindled day by day.

The two of them, who used to be able to talk about anything without reservation, now often sat facing each other in silence, the atmosphere awkward and oppressive.

Suzuki Misaki knew very well in her heart what the cause of this situation actually was. Yet, faced with such a predicament, she felt utterly helpless.

She couldn’t help but start to wonder: was her marriage truly coming to an end?

Was she really going to compromise?

Thinking up to this point, her heart stung as if pierced by needles...

Actually, speaking of which, Suzuki Misaki’s family background was quite good.

Her husband was an experienced doctor with a rather generous salary, making the household’s financial source very stable and abundant.

And the editing work Suzuki Misaki herself engaged in provided a respectable income as well, sufficient to cover her daily living expenses.

Because of this, their family’s financial situation had always been the envy of others. On ordinary days, she almost never worried over matters of money.

Yet beneath the seemingly happy and fulfilling marriage, some irreconcilable contradictions and conflicts were hidden.

Among them, the most prominent issues were the choice regarding having children and Suzuki Misaki’s personal career.

Suzuki Misaki’s husband hoped she would resign from her current job, peaceably stay home to play the role of a full-time housewife, and wholeheartedly bear children and manage domestic chores.

Regarding this proposal, Suzuki Misaki expressed that she could not accept it.

Ever since she was young, she had held a deep passion for words, and now being able to successfully throw herself into the related editing industry, she felt immensely lucky and fulfilled.

This opportunity to turn her interest into a profession was rare, and she was truly unwilling to easily give it up, locked away at home all day long just to wait on a husband and raise children.

Besides, back then, her husband had supported her working.

Yet for some reason, up to the present day, his attitude had undergone a complete 180-degree reversal, which left Suzuki Misaki thoroughly baffled.

Could women not pursue their own hobbies and dreams?

Were they only meant to be child-bearing tools?

Please, they were about to enter the brand-new 21st century—how could he still hold onto such antiquated thoughts?

No, the life I want is definitely not supposed to be like this!

Suzuki Misaki cried out silently in her heart...

...

The deep affection during their dating days and the inseparable intimacy of their newlywed period had long since vanished without a trace.

Those sweet times of the past had all become distant, blurred memories by now.

Today, this home was filled with a dull, tasteless, and oppressive atmosphere.

It made Suzuki Misaki almost unable to breathe.

Faced with such a condition, she felt helpless and lost.

She could only leave it to fate, letting the torrent of destiny carry her off into an unknown distance.

After a long while, she wearily got up and returned to her own room.

The bath towel slipped from her body, revealing a nearly flawless physique.

Suzuki Misaki threw herself onto the soft bed.

She was tired today; she wouldn’t write.

She’d reward herself and go to sleep early instead—there was still plenty of work to do tomorrow!

Casually reaching out to grab her commonly used fountain pen from the desk beside the bed, Suzuki Misaki grew busy...