At the office, Murumata is the supervisor everyone admires, steady, kind, the sort of person colleagues trust without quite knowing why. What no one suspects is how tender she is behind closed doors: easily moved to tears, fond of being pampered, and deeply, secretly in love with her subordinate, Kajima.
There is another secret, too. Murumata’s tongue is split at the tip, an intimate detail known only to the man who loves her.
When a business trip sends Murumata overseas, the two discover something they had never fully measured: how much of their daily life is built on simply seeing each other’s face. A single day apart feels like a small grief. A week feels enormous. In that absence, the word marriage drifts into both their minds, not as a plan, but as a quiet wish.
When they reunite after seven days, everything is felt more sharply: the warmth of a hand, the width of a finger, the plain miracle of a body beside your own. They realize, all over again, that they love each other.
