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My Wife Is Far Too Slow — Part 9


After showering and changing into my pajamas, I saw Otoha rummaging through boxes, looking for her sleepwear and towels.

The sound of her pat-pat footsteps filled the room.

At some point, I must have dozed off.

I had no idea how long she spent in the shower or getting ready at her infuriatingly slow pace.

But when I woke up, the morning sun was streaming through a gap in the curtains.

“…Morning already?”

The other side of the bed was perfectly made.

I couldn’t even tell if she had slept there.

And from the kitchen, I heard another one of her mysterious noises.

Clatter… clatter…

Like a man peeking at the crane’s loom, I peered into the kitchen.

Clatter… clatter…

From the sound of it, she was chopping daikon radish.

In a normal household, you’d hear a crisp ton-ton-ton-ton from the knife striking the cutting board.

But with Otoha, it was clatter.

And there was an agonizingly long pause between each chop.

Curious, I watched her carefully.

She was checking the shape of the daikon after every single cut—

Meticulously, cautiously, with unwavering focus.

(Too slow!)

I wanted to shout, but her intense concentration made me hold back.

“Good morning, Otoha.”

I felt awkward standing there spying on her, so I finally spoke up.

I wondered if she’d be upset that I had gone to bed first last night.

“Good morning, Rentarō-san!”

Her face lit up with a bright crescent-moon smile.

Well… I don’t hate her smile.

It’s kind of… soothing. Cute, even.

“Sorry for falling asleep first last night. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes, a little bit. But don’t worry about me! You have work today, after all. I spent a long time looking for my favorite face wash and lotion, so I didn’t get to bed until three in the morning.”

Good thing I had gone to bed first.

If I had waited for her, I probably would have lost my temper.

“You went to bed at three? And you’re up this early making breakfast? What time did you wake up?”

“I woke up at five. I take longer than most people to cook, so I needed extra time.”

…So she knows she’s slow.

“Five? That’s only two hours of sleep.”

“I’ll take a nap after I see you off, so I’ll be fine.”

Otoha worked as a freelance illustrator.

Because of that, moving hadn’t impacted her job much.

Not that it mattered—she didn’t seem to have enough work to be financially independent anyway.

Even at twenty-eight, she still lived with her parents.

She was basically a step above a shut-in.

That’s why she had been able to follow me so easily into this sudden marriage.

When I met her parents, they had simply smiled with the same crescent-moon eyes and sent her off with a cheerful “How wonderful, how wonderful.”

Thinking back, I should have realized it then.

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