Chapter 11 “Knocks and Consequences”
Y/N’s voice was quiet, flat — like a warning.
Rin stood immediately. Every nerve in his body lit up like a live wire. His legs moved before his thoughts did.
“No,” she said, hand still on the doorframe. “You sit.”
Her tone left no room for argument. Not anymore.
She opened the door just enough to show her face.
“Officer Tanaka,” she said, not quite cold, not quite polite.
The officer, older than Rin remembered, offered a curt nod. “Miss Y/L/N. I apologize for coming unannounced, but it was the only address we had on record.”
Y/N didn’t blink. “He’s here.”
Tanaka’s eyes moved past her. “May I come in?”
She held his gaze for a second longer, then stepped aside.
Rin’s chest tightened as the officer entered, every step toward him heavy and echoing with the weight of a choice made in anger — a night that hadn't stayed buried. A night that had dragged itself back to the surface on tired, bloody hands.
Officer Tanaka stopped just short of the table, gaze sharp but not unkind. “Mr. Suna.”
“Officer,” Rin said, rising halfway from his chair.
“You got the voicemail, I assume.”
Rin nodded slowly. “I did.”
Tanaka waited. When no elaboration came, he exhaled through his nose and pulled something from the inside of his jacket. A folded envelope. Official seal. A beat of silence passed as he placed it on the table.
Y/N hadn’t moved from the door.
“This isn’t an arrest,” the officer said, “but it is formal notice. The other party has filed to reopen the case. Not just for assault. For endangerment.”
Rin blinked. “Endangerment?”
Tanaka’s tone didn’t shift. “The curb was next to a road. The impact pushed the victim partially into the street. There was a car turning. It swerved. No crash — but it was recorded on a nearby dashcam. They’re arguing your action could’ve endangered more than one person.”
Y/N made a small sound — a quiet inhale that nearly stopped Rin’s heart.
“I never meant—” Rin started.
Tanaka held up a hand. “This is not the place. The court will decide if it goes that far. Right now, you’re being asked to make a voluntary appearance next week. The date and time are inside.”
Then: “I’ll be there,” Rin said.
“Good.” Tanaka looked at him a beat longer, then turned to Y/N. “Miss Y/L/N, you are not expected to participate. Your name only appears on his emergency contact form. But if you are asked to testify—”
“I won’t,” she said flatly.
The officer nodded, like he expected that. “Understood. I’ll leave you both to it.”
Y/N opened the door again. Tanaka stepped out without further ceremony.
But just before the door shut, he paused.
“You know,” he said, addressing Rin without turning around, “not everyone gets the chance to explain themselves before it’s too late. Use it wisely.”
Y/N stood there a second longer, back to him. Then she shut the door and turned slowly.
Her eyes were unreadable.
She didn’t speak. She walked past him instead — into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge like she hadn’t just watched the wreckage of his past land in their living room.
Rin followed, but only halfway. “Y/N...”
She reached for a glass. Filled it. Drank. Then finally turned to face him.
“You kept it from me,” she said. “Again.”
“I was trying to fix it on my own.”
“And that worked so well last time.”
Her voice wasn’t yelling. But it didn’t need to be. It landed harder than any scream.
“I wanted to protect you—”
“From what?” she snapped. “The truth? The risk of knowing what kind of storm was still following you around while I’m carrying your child?”
Rin’s chest ached. “I didn’t think it would come back.”
“Newsflash — it never left. You just didn’t look.”
He took a careful step closer. “I meant what I said. I’m not hiding anymore.”
Y/N shook her head slowly, one hand resting on the edge of the counter, the other unconsciously brushing over the curve of her belly.
“You keep saying that, Rin. But this—” she gestured between them, at the table full of letters, at the envelope from the officer, at everything unspoken “—this isn’t something that disappears with one courtroom visit and a half-sincere apology.”
He exhaled shakily. “I’m trying.”
She blinked hard. Her voice cracked at the edges. “So am I. Every day. I’m trying not to hate you. I’m trying not to remember how long I waited for a call that never came. I’m trying to figure out how to raise a human being when I can barely carry the weight of what you left behind.”
“I never stopped loving you,” he said softly.
“But I stopped believing I could be good for you,” he added. “That’s not the same.”
She didn’t reply. Just stared at him. Eyes wide. Tired. Torn.
Then, slowly, Y/N walked to the couch. Sat down heavily, like her bones were done holding her up. She looked at him again, more fragile now than furious.
“Will you be here after the hearing?” she asked.
He nodded. “If you’ll let me.”
Y/N didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no.
She just looked at him like it might be the last time she could still afford to believe in maybes.
And then, quietly — so quietly he barely heard it — she said:
“Then don’t screw it up.”
MASTERLIST • PREVIOUS • NEXT
@wolffmaiden @moochiwoochi @lover-of-books-and-tea @mizxuqii @amandasc3 @yumiestarr @yshzai07 @peteunderoos @gojofucker7 @juicyorphan123 @bah1e @rowensboat
