Want to read... but too lazy to leave Tumblr?? I get it. I really do. You can read Episode 1 in its entirety over here without having to depart this app for... another app. 

But what is this story about?? Tbh Mari why should I read it?? (You will soooo regret asking this question)

• An extremely charming man who is also amazing at laundry
• A girl who just won’t save this guy’s number on her phone
• NOT a love triangle because the male lead simply will not allow possible rivals any actual screen time, thereby rendering this trope mathematically impossible,
• People who check their work email at weddings
• People who hate weddings
• People who have strategy meetings re: how to escape from weddings
• Romance via calendar invites
• Wondering if you’re falling in love or merely sleep deprived?? Both??

“But Mari, I don’t WANT to go read this on Wattpad, I want to stay here on Tumblr!” Listen, my friend. Let me help you. Here’s all of Episode 1! (But the rest is over here if you decide you want to read it!)

In the wake of her broken engagement, workaholic Reiko is convinced that true romance can only be found in fiction. She spends her days marketing swoony shoujo manga for a prominent Tokyo publishing house, believing all the while that her own love story is a closed book. Meet-cutes only happen in the movies. Happy endings are for fairy tales.

Resigned to the idea that lightning won't strike twice, Reiko has officially given up. When a hectic summer unfolds into an unexpected office romance, she doesn't even know what hit her. Masaru strides into Reiko's life armed with quicksilver wit and devastating charm. He's handsome. He's maddening. He ropes her into audacious schemes that leave her stunned, breathless, and somehow wishing for more.

Always one step ahead, Masaru dares Reiko to dream bigger, fly higher, and fall harder than ever before. Can she turn the page and meet him halfway?

The family business is housed in an imposing tower of glass and steel, among the most distinctive on the Tokyo skyline. Just now, the side facing west reflects the setting sun in all its glory, vivid orange and smoldering red. Reiko glances up at the building, thinking of Satomi’s mother, imagining the spectrum of color Kiyomi might have seen in one sunset alone.

Not for the first time, she wishes she could have met her.

She steps into the lobby, by now as familiar as the living room of her own house, and the pair of secretaries at the gleaming counter greet her with a friendly wave. “Miss Tachibana,” Reiko hears them say, almost in unison. Preoccupied, she smiles back but doesn’t linger.

The cab driver is running a yellow light when Reiko’s phone explodes with noise. She dives into her bag, nerves jangling, and sees the caller’s name.

“Oshiro,” Reiko reads out loud. She glances over at Yoshi, sitting rigidly beside her, but his face in profile is unreadable. He hasn’t said more than three words since they left the house, and he says nothing now — no acknowledgment whatsoever, although the man on the other end of the line is the closest friend he has.

She knows that Yoshi has his own phone right there, held tightly in his fist, the screen probably flooded with notifications of missed calls and unanswered messages. They are impossibly late for the wedding. The ceremony must have been over for at least ten minutes, by now. There is no chance that they will still be able to make it.

Biting her lip, Reiko takes the call.

Not even 8am, and the piano is going in the living room.

Reiko rushes around, fastening an earring while keeping one eye on the alarm clock that sits on her side of the bed. “Yoshi!” she calls out, having to compete with the piano. “Yoshi, you know we have to be there in an hour--”

No response. But there is singing now, filtering through the half closed bedroom door, and two voices joining in for the chorus. Reiko leans into the hall. She is about to call for Yoshi again when she hears a little girl say something that sounds like, “Rocket Man.” And then she can only lean against the doorframe, unable to keep from smiling, because she knows the game they’re playing. It’s a Sunday morning favorite in this house. Interrupting it feels like a crime.

+ Uncharted

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