Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Haruna let out a muffled laugh against my chest, some of the tension leaving her body. But my attention shifted when I noticed Yuko turn her head slightly, her expression unreadable. Curious, I reached out with my Telepathy, tuning into her thoughts.

[Jack is really a good person... Even being so rich, he knows how to cook, take care of others... and he's so good to Haruna...]

I couldn't help but smile at the unwitting compliment, though a part of me wondered what she'd say if she ever found out the full truth about me. If she really knew, she'd probably kill me on the spot.

Haruna, still nestled against me, tilted her head up, her eyes bright with affection. "You always say things like that," she murmured, her voice soft. "But I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

I chuckled, ruffling her hair playfully. "Trouble is my middle name," I teased. "Besides, Aunt Julie might be scary, but I've faced worse."

Yuko, who had been quietly observing our exchange, let out a quiet snort. "You're way too confident for your own good," she muttered, though there was no real bite in her words.

I grinned, meeting her gaze. "Confidence is my charm, Sister Yuko."

She rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips before she could suppress it. "Idiot," she muttered, though the word lacked its usual venom.

Haruna's laughter still lingered in the air, bright and carefree, like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "See, Jack? Even Sister thinks you're ridiculous." She grinned up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and I couldn't help but match her smile.

"And yet, she still tolerates me," I shot back, wagging my eyebrows for extra effect. "That's the real miracle here."

Yuko let out another one of those rare, unguarded laughs—small, but genuine. It was the kind of sound that transformed the kitchen from just another room into something warmer, something that felt like home. But the moment was fragile, and it shattered as soon as Haruna's next words cut through the warmth.

"Sister... should I call Mom and tell her?" Haruna asked, already bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitement.

I watched Yuko's face carefully. For a split second, her expression flickered—something raw and unguarded flashed in her eyes before she masked it with a smile. "Yeah," she said softly, though her voice carried a weight that wasn't there before. "Mom would be happy."

Haruna didn't hesitate. With a joyful squeal, she dashed out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she rushed to her room to make the call.

Yuko watched her go, her voice barely above a murmur. "This girl..." There was something in her tone—a mix of affection and something else, something heavier. [She's always been like this... so eager, so trusting. Unlike me.]

My mind drifted to the photos I had seen of her mother, Kasumi. The resemblance was striking—same sharp eyes, same stubborn set of the jaw.

But where Yuko carried herself with a guarded intensity, Kasumi had looked... different. Softer. Warmer. The kind of warmth that made you want to lean into it, to trust it. But Yuko... she's like a blade wrapped in silk. Beautiful, but dangerous if you don't handle her right.

Yuko's voice snapped me back to the present. "What are you thinking?" she asked, her tone sharp with suspicion. "Don't tell me you're nervous... thinking about our mom?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, playing up the nervousness. "Yeah, I am nervous," I admitted, letting my voice carry just the right amount of mock panic. "Sister Yuko, when the time comes, you have to help me impress Mother-in-law. I can't face her alone!"

Yuko went quiet, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. [Mom...] The thought alone sent a pang through her chest. [I haven't talked to her in so long. Not since... not since everything fell apart.]

Her voice came out colder than before, though the usual bite was missing. "Hmph. Why should I help you?" she said, but her thoughts betrayed her. [He doesn't know. He doesn't know how much it hurts to even think about her. How much I miss her. How much I hate that I miss her.]

I clutched my chest dramatically, pretending to be terrified. "Sister Yuko, you're not thinking of taking revenge on me, right? Don't tell Mother-in-law all the bad things about me! She'll never let me near Haruna again!"

Yuko's lips twitched, her eyes glinting with amusement. [Oh, this is gold. I've got him right where I want him.] "That depends on my mood..." she said, a small smile playing at her lips.

[Hmph... now I've got his weakness. I'll definitely bully him over this. Make him squirm every time Mom's name comes up. Serves him right for being so smug all the time.]

But beneath the amusement, her thoughts took a softer turn. [But... I haven't talked to Mom in a long time. I miss her. I miss the way she used to laugh, the way she'd scold me for being too stubborn. I miss the way she'd pull me into a hug, no matter how much I pretended to hate it.]

[I miss her... but I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to go back after everything that happened.]

I watched her carefully, seeing the conflict in her eyes—the stubbornness, the longing, the fear of reaching out after so much time. I knew this wasn't just about me or Haruna. It was about her. About the walls she had built, the bridges she hadn't burned but had let rot with silence.

I decided to shift the mood, sensing the weight of the conversation pressing down on Yuko. "Sister Yuko," I said, nodding toward the stove, "the food's ready. Help me put it on the dining table?"

I turned off the gas, carefully transferring the dishes into serving utensils before dumping the dirty pots and pans into the wash basin. But as I turned around, my stomach dropped.

Yuko was reaching out, her fingers hovering over the hot bowl I had just pulled off the stove. She wasn't even looking—her mind was still lost in thought, her expression distant, as if she were trapped in a memory. Before I could even react, her fingertips brushed against the scorching surface.

She didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't even seem to notice.

She just stood there, holding the bowl, her face blank, as if the pain hadn't registered yet.