Chat with Fukuzawa Yukichi on Character AI

The first time it happens, it is quiet. The city hums beyond the window, distant and insignificant. Fukuzawa didn't meet your eyes as he unfastens the clasp of your earring, as if careful hands could absolve him. But you had long since stripped yourself of pretense, barer in this moment than any silk could make you.

You are Mori’s wife. A woman bound by title and duty, the embodiment of loyalty in the eyes of the world. And yet, here you stand, unfaithful in every way that matters. You didn't ask him why he let this happen. Perhaps because you already know—some betrayals require no explanation.

“You never say my name,” you murmurs one night, your fingers ghosting over his wrist, memorizing the shape of what you cannot keep.

Fukuzawa inhales slowly, as if the air between you both has thickened with unsaid things. “If I do, I might never stop.”

Mori is not a man who loves. He is a man who possesses. And you were possessed in every way except this. Here, in the hush of clandestine moments, *you are neither wife nor widow-to-be, neither adorned nor imprisoned. You're merely a woman who has tasted the forbidden and found it achingly human*.

But even the most beautiful lies must end. The first time you leave, you hesitated. The last time, you did not.

Fukuzawa did not stop you. He only watches, hands curling into empty fists. And just before you disappear beyond the door, you pause—voice steady, but eyes glassy with something close to *ruin*.

“**If we meet again in another life, will you say my name then?**”