Uncle Hikigaya is Forever Young [11]

Kitahara Setsuna couldn’t remember clearly when she had last spoken properly with her husband.

From some point onward, the two of them had stopped eating meals together, chatting, going for walks—or even sharing a bed.

She couldn't remember exactly when the small yet certain happiness they'd once shared had ended.

...

Since childhood, Setsuna had rarely ever cursed aloud.

But now—right now—in front of Hikigaya Ryōhei, she desperately wanted to scream every dirty word she could think of!

Of course, all directed at that shameless pair who had hurt her this deeply!

Initially, Setsuna had hoped Hikigaya Ryōhei would share her outrage. Perhaps she just wanted someone who'd experienced the same betrayal, someone to huddle together with for comfort, to discuss what to do next.

Even if they didn’t find a solution, at the very least couldn't he join her in badmouthing his wife???

But now, seeing Hikigaya Ryōhei standing apart so indifferently, her simple, petty wish was completely dashed.

His indifferent attitude, his calm, water-like eyes—Setsuna had never seen this expression before! This peacefulness inexplicably made her angry, indignant, and even faintly jealous.

Why am I the one always clinging to Haruki, unable to even think about leaving him? Why am I this useless?

Yes, Kitahara Setsuna was, after all, a woman in her thirties, no longer that little girl from back then. After enduring these agonizing days, rationally, she knew that perhaps leaving this chaotic relationship behind and starting anew would be best.

But realizing something rationally didn’t mean she could actually do it.

That’s how useless she was.

This gentle, dignified woman couldn’t extricate herself from this absurd love triangle, desperately clinging onto Haruki no matter how deeply it hurt her.

Now she was left covered in wounds.

“Kitahara-san, calm down a little, alright? Passersby are staring at us. I'm single, so I don't care, but at least think about your image.”

Ryōhei firmly grasped Setsuna’s feeble wrists, shaking the resentful woman who was about to collapse onto him, trying to snap her back to reality.

It was obvious to Ryōhei that Setsuna was under immense mental pressure, and he even felt a little sympathy for her.

She seemed like the traditional sort of good woman who would always place her husband first in her heart.

Ryōhei suddenly wondered if it was precisely Kitahara Setsuna’s possessive, slightly neurotic love—this desperate desire to keep her husband close—that might have driven her husband toward someone else.

Seeing Kitahara Setsuna like this, there was definitely a hint of neurotic behavior.

But, of course, flies don't gather on unbroken eggs. Trash men were still trash men.

“What exactly are you telling me to calm down about? Aren’t you the least bit angry? Right now, Tōma Kazusa might be with Haruki! I called him nonstop last night, but he never answered, so it must be—”

“Can you stop mentioning her already? I've told you, we're divorced! I don't care!” Ryōhei irritably shook off Setsuna's delicate wrist, fragile enough to seem like it might break with just a little more force. Seriously, why did this woman always have to rub salt into the wound?

Even if he really didn’t care and had no memories of his so-called ex-wife, it would still sour anyone’s mood to keep hearing, "Your hat looks so good on your head!"

“Ha! See! Even now, you’re covering for her! And you claim you don’t care about Tōma?”

The increasingly reckless young wife took another step forward, practically pressing herself onto Ryōhei, gripping his collar and laughing hysterically as she accused him.

“Rather than talk about my ex-wife, let's discuss you instead, Kitahara-san! Look at yourself right now—isn't this a bit too...” Ryōhei couldn't help but push Setsuna slightly, peeling away her hands. He didn't blush; he wasn’t some teenage high schooler who'd get shy just by touching a woman.

They were both grown adults.

“Me? Me?! What's wrong with me? I was living perfectly well until your wife seduced my husband!!” Setsuna, provoked by Ryōhei's words, practically jumped up to slap him.

Ryōhei no longer wanted to talk with the increasingly hysterical Kitahara Setsuna. He blocked her right hand with a casual swipe, then dragged her by the arm towards a beautiful, red Maybach parked about five or six meters away.

“Look at yourself. Let's forget about your makeup... When was the last time you washed your face? You've had it pretty rough, huh?”

Setsuna struggled weakly, drained of strength. Following Ryōhei's gaze, she caught sight of herself in the car's rearview mirror.
That familiar face, which she had once proudly cared for, was now streaked with dried tear stains, fresh tears running down her cheeks, faint crow’s feet visible at the corners of her eyes. She looked awful.

“Who has time to wash their face…” Setsuna felt a painful twist in her heart. Knowing something yourself and having it pointed out by someone else were two entirely different things.

Who would ever want this? When she'd had a happy, stable, blissful family life before all this happened.

“Your hair!”

“My hair?”

With profound seriousness, Ryōhei continued, “You probably haven’t washed your hair for quite a while either. When you bumped into me just now, I caught a strange smell. For a woman to end up in this state... you should at least reflect a little.”

“You!”

“Listen to me. Go home, take a bath, and get some sleep.” Seeing Setsuna wavering slightly, perhaps shaken by the suggestion of a strange odor, Ryōhei took advantage of this opening and gently prodded her further. “Honestly, you should just get divorced too. I don't think you're inferior to Tōma Kazusa at all; you're just not taking care of yourself. After your divorce, take some time to recover. You'll definitely find a good man who'll appreciate you.”

“Divorce…” Setsuna repeated numbly, dazedly murmuring the word to herself.

Hearing it from Hikigaya Ryōhei's mouth made her seriously consider it for the first time. Deep down, she understood this marriage was probably beyond saving.

Kazusa had already divorced and was waiting, ready to remarry; Haruki was completely infatuated with her. Setsuna herself had no children with Haruki, and now their relationship was in shambles.

Setsuna shivered all over, feeling as though Haruki might call the next moment demanding a divorce.

“I’m so tired… Why is life so exhausting?”

She longed to lean on a warm, broad chest, even just for a moment—perhaps that would ease the unbearable emptiness in her heart.

Lost in this muddled haze, Setsuna didn’t even realize Ryōhei had dragged her over to the roadside.

“They say it’s better to demolish ten temples than to ruin a marriage. But I think—better a quick, clean break than prolonged suffering.”

As he spoke, Ryōhei hailed a taxi by the roadside, opened the door, and firmly pushed Setsuna inside.

He really couldn’t stand being around such a depressing woman any longer. He felt like her gloominess would infect him if he lingered even another second.

“Is that how you thought too, when you divorced Tōma? Didn’t you used to love her so desperately?” Setsuna, completely oblivious to his contempt and unaware she’d just been stuffed into a taxi, raised her pointed chin and pressed him, questioning sharply.

“Fine, fine! Yes, I loved her before! But not anymore! So now, your business is none of mine.” Ryōhei spoke as if discussing a stranger’s life, as if describing an utterly unrelated woman. Setsuna, watching this, suddenly thought, This man really is carefree.

Then she suddenly realized she was sitting inside a taxi. Before she could react, Ryōhei slammed the door shut.

He hurriedly shouted a random address to the driver, stepped back quickly, and waved goodbye to Kitahara Setsuna.

“Hey! You—you…”

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This is a fan translation of 比企谷大叔永远年轻 by Stargazer All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!