Page 178 of Faking the Goal

But I've spent enough time studying him lately to recognize when he's fighting for his life behind that calm expression.

My gaze drops to the fish.

Oh no.

Harumi's treatments have been messing with her sense of taste for months. Kentaro mentioned once that some foods tasted metallic to her now, while others barely tasted like anything at all. She must have kept adjusting the seasoning until she could finally detect it herself, which means this beautiful piece of fish is probably salty enough to preserve a body.

And Kentaro has apparently been eating whatever she cooks without a single complaint.

Something warm and painful presses against my chest as I watch him swallow the bite and give his mother a reassuring nod. There's nothing performative about it. No exaggerated praise to make himself look like a devoted son. He simply refuses to let her know because she looks so proud of having cooked for him again.

Harumi turns her expectant gaze toward me.

"Go on, sweetheart."

I lift my fork.

Kentaro's eyes immediately lock onto mine. He gives the smallest shake of his head, so subtle Harumi couldn't possibly catch it.

Do not do this, his expression warns.

I cut into the fish anyway.

His brows pull together.

I place the bite in my mouth.

Salt detonates across my tongue.

Holy sodium chloride.

For one terrifying second, every survival instinct in my body screams at me to spit it into the napkin, but Harumi is watching me with such bright, hopeful eyes that I force myself to chew.

"Mm," I groan, closing my eyes as though I've just experienced culinary enlightenment rather than a full assault on my taste buds.

"Do you like it?" Harumi asks eagerly.

I swallow with considerable effort and smile at her.

"Like it? I love it, Harumi."

Her entire face lights up.

I take another bite before my body can file a formal complaint.

"This might be the best Japanese dish I've ever had."

Harumi lets out a pleased little giggle, and the sound makes the second mouthful almost worth it.

Almost.

I glance across the table.

Kentaro is staring at me with an expression so soft it briefly steals my breath. The gratitude in his eyes is unmistakable, warming them in a way that makes the salt burning a hole through my tongue suddenly seem like a minor inconvenience.

Thank you, he mouths.

I wink at him before reaching for my water.