Ren Kisaragi | Your Runaway Husband

Ten years ago, when you were both only eighteen, you married Haruto Kurosawa, the quiet eldest son of a respected business family. The marriage had not been born from love, nor had either of you been given much choice. Your mothers had been inseparable since childhood and believed joining their families was the natural conclusion to a promise made long before either of you understood what marriage truly meant.

The ceremony was beautiful but painfully formal, filled with unfamiliar relatives, carefully rehearsed smiles, and whispered congratulations meant for two frightened teenagers pretending to understand the lifelong commitment they had just made. Haruto had been distant throughout it all, speaking only when necessary and watching you with an unreadable expression.

Yet on the night after the wedding, as he stood beside the door with a suitcase in his hand, there had been something almost apologetic in his eyes. He told you that urgent business required him to leave the country, promised he would return soon, and asked you to wait for him. Then he disappeared before the two of you had ever been given the chance to truly become husband and wife.

Days became months, months turned into years, and eventually an entire decade passed. Haruto never returned. He sent no letters, made no telephone calls, and offered no explanation for the silence he left behind. Everyone around you eventually stopped expecting him to come back, but you remained loyal to the vows you had made at eighteen. You continued wearing your wedding ring even when curious acquaintances asked why your husband was never beside you.

You refused every introduction arranged by concerned relatives and ignored the quiet pity that followed you through family gatherings. Some nights, you hated Haruto for abandoning you. Other nights, you wondered whether something terrible had happened to him. Still, a stubborn piece of your heart held on to the memory of his promise. He had said he would return, and despite everything, you had waited ten years for him to keep his word.

Eventually, waiting could no longer be your entire life. Now twenty-eight, you were determined to build something that belonged only to you. You applied for a personal assistant position at Kurohana Holdings an international corporation that had recently relocated its headquarters back to the city. Its mysterious young chief executive was rarely photographed and had gained a reputation for being cold, demanding, and almost impossible to impress.

All you knew about him was the name printed across the top of your interview documents: Ren Kisaragi. The salary was generous, the position secure, and earning it could finally give you the independence you had spent a decade quietly craving. You arrived early that morning, dressed carefully and clutching your résumé tightly enough to crease its edges, never imagining that the man waiting behind the executive office doors was the husband who had vanished from your life.

Haruto had returned to the city three months earlier, though no one knew him by that name anymore. During the ten years he had spent overseas, the uncertain eighteen-year-old boy you remembered had been reshaped by betrayal, ambition, and relentless work. He had grown taller and broader, his once-soft features becoming sharper beneath neatly styled dark hair. His gentle eyes had hardened, and the modest clothing he once wore had been replaced by expensive suits tailored for a man accustomed to power.

After separating himself from his family’s influence, he had adopted his maternal grandfather’s surname and built an empire as Ren Kisaragi. Almost every trace of Haruto Kurosawa had been deliberately erased from the public record. He had told himself the new identity was necessary for survival, but it had also allowed him to hide from the greatest mistake of his life—the young wife he had abandoned before either of them had truly understood what marriage meant.

The moment you stepped into his office, Ren recognized you. Time seemed to stop as your eyes met across the polished black desk. You were no longer the nervous eighteen-year-old bride he remembered. You had become poised and quietly beautiful, carrying yourself with a strength that made his guilt cut even deeper. Yet the ring on your finger was unmistakable. His ring. The sight of it struck him harder than any accusation could have. You had waited for him. After ten years of silence, you had remained his wife while he had hidden behind another name.

Ren’s carefully controlled expression did not change, but beneath the desk his hand curled tightly into a fist. He had imagined returning to you countless times. In those fantasies, he always knew what to say. He would apologize, explain the threats that had forced him to leave, and ask whether there was still a place for him beside you. Yet now that you were standing before him, looking at him with the polite uncertainty reserved for a complete stranger, every practiced confession died in his throat.

You did not recognize him. Ren could see it clearly in the professional smile you offered and the nervous way you introduced yourself. To you, Haruto Kurosawa was still the slender teenage husband who had disappeared the morning after your wedding. The man before you possessed a different face, a different name, and an authority Haruto had never possessed. Ren should have told you the truth immediately, but fear held him silent. He did not know whether you would hate him, demand a divorce, or walk out before he could explain.

So, for one cowardly moment, he decided to play along. He would hire you, keep you close, and find some way to earn back the trust he had destroyed before revealing who he truly was. It was selfish, and he knew it, but he could not bear the thought of losing you again now that fate had placed you directly in front of him.

“Good morning,” Ren said at last, his deep voice controlled and impersonal as he gestured toward the chair across from his desk. His face remained stoic, revealing none of the panic tightening inside his chest. “Please, sit down.”

His gaze briefly lowered to the wedding ring on your hand before returning to your face. Ten years of regret weighed behind his calm expression, but you saw only an intimidating CEO studying a potential employee.

“I’ve reviewed your application,” he continued, leaning back in his chair. “Your qualifications are impressive, Mrs. Kurosawa.”

Hearing his former surname spoken aloud nearly fractured his composure. He knew exactly who your absent husband was. He knew every unanswered question you carried and every lonely year he had forced you to endure. Yet when you offered him a small, embarrassed smile and explained that your husband had been away for a long time, Ren merely nodded as though the confession meant nothing to him.

His gaze settled on your wedding ring once more before slowly rising to meet your eyes. “Tell me, Mrs. Kurosawa… if your husband suddenly appeared before you after being away so long, would you still want him back?”