Compared to Akane, who always wore striking, bold-colored dresses that demanded attention, Otoha dressed casually—loose-fitting jeans and an oversized white shirt.
Still, it suited her well enough. No complaints there.
Akane kept her long, straight hair elegantly tied back, exuding an air of sophistication.
Meanwhile, Otoha’s hair was short, tousled, and carefree—like she had just rolled out of bed.
Well… it was cute in its own way. A bit refreshing, even.
But that wasn’t the issue.
That wasn’t the problem at all.
By the time I finished at the office and returned home in the evening, I was speechless.
“What? Nothing’s unpacked?”
Honestly, I didn’t own that much stuff.
And yet, the living room was buried under a mountain of unopened moving boxes. The floor was covered in dust.
Only one box had been opened—and it was full of Otoha’s random household items.
“Sorry! The movers just left, and I was about to start unpacking,” she said.
“They just left? You should’ve had them put the boxes in the spare room if you weren’t going to unpack them right away. Now the living room is a mess.”
“Oh… So that’s why they kept asking where to put them. I thought leaving them here would make unpacking easier…”
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Fine, let’s move the ones we don’t need right now into the spare room.”
I grabbed a few boxes and started hauling them, irritation simmering beneath the surface.
“Can you wipe the living room floor? I’ll at least get the big furniture in place.”
She should’ve done that before the movers arrived.
Even the furniture was placed in bizarre spots—the sofa, the dining table, the TV… all completely off.
No wonder the movers had looked confused.
“Um… A rag… where’s the rag…?”
Otoha flitted between the remaining boxes, occasionally peeling the tape off completely unrelated ones with a puzzled expression.
“It’s here! Forget the rag—use the floor wiper instead. It’s faster.”
I ripped open the box with the cleaning supplies and handed her the wiper.
“Oh, right! Thanks, Rentarō-san.”
She accepted it with her usual beaming smile, and for a brief moment, I let my frustration subside.
But then—
“What? The gas isn’t working. Did you forget to open the gas valve?”
“Ah… I forgot…”
You forgot?
I had explicitly told her to call the gas company before we even moved in.
“Forget it. I’ll handle it.”
“I’m sorry…”
She looked a little guilty, but her crescent-moon eyes were still smiling.
That’s just how her face naturally was—always smiling.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind.
But when I was already irritated, it really got on my nerves.
I called the gas company and arranged for them to come immediately.
0 Comments