• WATTYS 2022 WINNER •
When Iris Monet married millionaire Jared Darling, she had only one rule - that he could cheat on her with anyone except the household staff. This arrangement of theirs would have gone on quite happily if she hadn't caught him...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
akai 👁
TOMIICHI whistles as he enters the room, and the sound makes me want to sucker-punch him in the gut. The impulse vanishes as quickly as it comes, leaving behind an aftertaste of guilt.
I don't think I've ever felt this irrational before.
"You're a right-on mess, aren't you?" Tomiichi eyes the dripping state of my clothes critically. "Been skinny-dipping with Gacho in the lake?"
"I don't do skinny-dip." My voice is sullen, even more than usual. "And I got wet from the rain."
"Well – yes, I was making a joke." Tomiichi sounds pained. "I thought that was obvious."
"No."
There's that whistle again. It grates on my ears. "Someone's in a bad temper."
"Not everyone is rich and happy like you." The second the words leave my mouth, I regret it. I run my hands through my sodden hair in frustration. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."
Tomiichi leans against the marble countertop. "You want to talk about it?"
A deep breath. "No offense, cousin, but you're the last person I want to talk to about this."
"Oh? It's something to do with me then? Hmm. I wonder what it could be."
Ignoring him, I strip off my cotton shirt and start wringing it out in the sink. As I do so, my eyes catch sight of something in the laundry basket. A pale pink shirt, embroidered with flowers.
Only one person in the whole house would wear something so ridiculously feminine like that.
Balling up my shirt, I toss it into the laundry basket – only it was more of a violent slam-dunk than a toss, and instead of landing cleanly inside, it knocked the basket sideways and over. The wet shirt hits the floor with a splat.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter angrily, jerking it back into position.
"If you're not going to tell me your troubles," Tomiichi is saying, "perhaps I can tell you mine?"
I don't answer, but start walking out of the kitchen. Tomiichi follows me close behind.
"Even rich people have problems, you know," he presses. "And contrary to what you may think, we're not happy all the time."
The guilt-trip worked. Turning around, I fold my arms. "Fine. What are your troubles?"
Tomiichi sighs, a sound drawn-out and exaggerated. "Oh, you probably can guess. A man's only got two troubles in life – money, or women. And seeing as how I'm company president ..."
I refuse to understand or reply, choosing instead to regard him with a blank look. Tomiichi eyes me for a long minute, before finally letting out another sigh – genuine this time – and putting both palms together as if he's in prayer.
