My Girlfriend Wanted an Open Relationship, So I Broke Up with Her and Found a Sweet Yandere - Chapter 33

At the small table, I put together something simple from whatever I had left in the fridge.

Rice. An egg. The last of the miso paste. Nothing impressive—just warm.

The wind outside rattled the window again, snow brushing faintly against the glass. The weather had turned worse in barely half an hour. The advisory hadn’t been exaggerating.

By the time I set the bowl in front of her, her condition had clearly dipped.

Her face was flushed an unhealthy shade of red, color pooled high across her cheeks. Her eyes looked glassy, unfocused around the edges. Even lifting the spoon seemed to require more effort than it should have.

“Eat slowly,” I said, pulling out the chair across from her. “It’s hot.”

She nodded, but the motion was delayed, like her body needed an extra second to catch up.

“I am eating,” she murmured.

The words blended together slightly.

“You’re slurring,” I pointed out.

“I am not,” she protested weakly—except it came out consonants softened and uneven.

I didn’t argue. Just watched to make sure she didn’t drop the spoon.

Another gust of wind pressed against the building, a low whistle slipping through the gaps in the frame. Snow was falling heavier now; I could see it piling along the balcony railing.

“It’s getting bad out there,” I said. “Roads are probably freezing already.”

She hummed faintly in acknowledgment, focusing more on the food than on me. After a few bites, some of the tension in her shoulders eased. Warmth was doing something, at least.

When she finished about half, her pace slowed.

“That’s enough,” she said quietly.

“It’s not.”

She gave me a look that was meant to be stern but lacked the strength to back it up.

“I’ll finish it,” she insisted, and forced a few more bites down before setting the spoon aside.

“That’s fine,” I said after a moment. “You should sleep.”

Her gaze lifted sluggishly. “Sleep?”

“Yeah. You’re burning up. Lying down will help.” I stood and glanced toward the bedroom. “Take the bed. I’ll use the futon.”

She frowned faintly.

“That’s not right,” she murmured.

“It’s practical.”

“It’s your house.”

“And you’re sick.”

She seemed to consider that, swaying slightly even while seated. Then, softer—

“You can sleep next to me.”

I blinked.

She continued, voice small and careful, like she was choosing each word through fog.

“It’s your bed. I won’t feel good if you sleep on the floor because of me.” A faint pause. “I promise I won’t do anything weird.”

For a second, my brain stopped working.

“W–What?”

“I won’t,” she repeated earnestly, nodding once—too seriously for someone whose words were barely cooperating with her.

“I—it’s fine,” I said quickly, “The futon’s fine. I sleep there sometimes anyway.”

“That’s not convincing,” she mumbled.

“I said it’s fine,” I repeated, already backing away. “Just—focus on resting.”

Before she could respond again, I turned and walked straight toward the bathroom.

Smooth. Very smooth.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a second, exhaling hard.

She won’t do anything weird?

What does that even mean?

I turned the shower on before I could spiral further, steam quickly filling the small space. The hot water helped steady my thoughts, washing away the chill that had settled into my skin from earlier.

When I was done I got out.

I dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around my waist, stepping out into the hall…

By habit, I walked past the kitchenette, through the living area, and toward my bedroom.

I stepped inside—

—and froze.

My room was small enough that the bed practically faced the closet. If someone sat on the edge of the mattress, they could open the sliding doors without even standing.

Sensei was sprawled across my bed in a way that looked entirely unplanned.

Her head was near the edge closest to the closet, hair slightly mussed, one arm hanging loosely off the side. She hadn’t pulled a blanket over herself. She was lying on her stomach, face turned slightly to the side, breathing slow and heavy.

Out cold.

“…You couldn’t at least use the pillow properly?” I muttered under my breath.

The heater’s hum barely reached this far into the apartment. The room still held a faint bite of cold.

And I was standing there in nothing but a towel.

Right.

I exhaled carefully and started forward on the balls of my feet.

Slow.

Quiet.

The space between the edge of the bed and the closet was barely wide enough for one person to stand straight. I eased myself into it, trying not to let my knee brush the mattress.

She didn’t stir.

Good.

I slid the closet door open as gently as possible. It still made the faintest wooden rasp.

I held my breath.

Nothing.

First thing I grabbed was a T-shirt. I pulled it over my head immediately, relief washing over me as fabric settled against slight damp skin.

Better.

Now—pants.

Or at least underwear.

I shifted slightly to reach deeper into the stack—

—and something soft brushed against the back of my ass.

I flinched.

Hard.

My shoulder jerked, and the back of my head knocked against the edge of the closet with a dull thud.

“—ghk.”

The sound wasn’t loud, but in the quiet room it felt enormous.

Sensei stirred.

My entire body went rigid.

She shifted slightly on the mattress, fingers twitching faintly where her hand hung off the edge. A small sound left her—half sigh, half murmur.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Please go back to sleep.

She stirred again.

More this time.

Her arm twitched, brows knitting faintly as if something in her sleep had unsettled her. She shifted across the mattress, rolling slightly onto her side. Her head moved away from the edge of the bed, closer toward the wall, creating just enough space between her and the closet.

Then she went still again.

Breathing slow.

Steady.

Asleep.

I exhaled carefully.

Okay. Good. Just finish dressing and—

The narrow space betrayed me.

My heel caught slightly on the hem of the blanket bunched near the bed frame. In trying to avoid stepping on it—and in trying not to brush against her—I shifted my weight the wrong way.

The towel under my knee tugged.

My balance followed.

“Sh—”

I fell forward.

Instinct kicked in.

Both hands shot out—not to her, but to either side of her shoulders, bracing against the mattress. My knee landed beside her hip. My other leg bent awkwardly, keeping my weight off her completely.

I didn’t touch her.

Not directly.

But my face—

My face was inches from her chest.

Close enough to feel the faint warmth rising and falling with each breath.

Close enough to notice details I absolutely should not be noticing.

Her top—already loose and cut far lower than it had any right to be—had shifted in her sleep. The neckline dipped deeply, fabric slack and uneven from the way she’d sprawled.

My throat went dry.

I could get up.

I absolutely could.

Except—

The towel.

It was pinned under my knee, the knot already loosened from the fall. One wrong movement, one sudden shift upward—

And it would drop.

Not like this.

Not over her.

Not while she was asleep.

I froze in place, muscles locked, breathing shallow as hell.

Calm down.

Just move slowly.

Don’t rush it.

This close, though—too close—something else caught my attention.

A scar.

Faint but unmistakable.

Clean. Pale. Healed long ago.

It ran just beneath her collarbone, curving slightly toward the center of her chest. Not jagged. Not recent. Surgical, almost. Precise.

My mind blanked.

That hadn’t been there before.

Or maybe I’d never been close enough to see it.

Something tightened in my chest—not embarrassment, not attraction.

Something heavier.

What—

Before I could finish the thought—

Her hand moved.

In her sleep, she shifted again, fingers brushing the back of my head.

Then gripping.

My heart stopped.

She made a small, unconscious sound and pulled—weak but sudden.

My face dipped closer as her arm wrapped instinctively around me, dragging me toward the warmth of her body.

What the—

And then everything went dark.

[A/N: Ooooooohhhh]