The Space Between Us
Copyright© 2025 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 9
Rin Ready to Try, Becoming a Couple
The week leading up to their parents’ visit felt both endless and far too short. Rin and Kiko went through the motions of classes and studying, but underneath everything was the constant awareness of what was coming.
They’d decided to tell their parents on Saturday night, after dinner. Give everyone the day to settle in, to be comfortable, before dropping the bomb that would either blow their family apart or—hopefully—bring them closer together in a new configuration.
“We should practice,” Kiko suggested on Wednesday night. They were lying in Rin’s bed, neither of them able to focus on homework. “Like, practice what we’re going to say.”
“How do you practice telling your parents you’re dating your stepsister?”
“I don’t know. But going in without any idea of what we’re going to say seems like a recipe for disaster.”
Rin knew she was right. “Okay. So ... how do we start?”
Kiko sat up, thinking. “We need to be direct. Not dance around it. Just say it plainly.”
“‘Mom, David, we’re dating.’ Like that?”
“Maybe a little more context.” Kiko was pacing now, her nervous energy filling the small room. “What if we say something like, ‘We need to talk to you about something important. Our relationship has changed. We’ve developed romantic feelings for each other, and we’re together now.’”
Rin tested the words in her mind. They sounded so clinical, so formal. But maybe that was better than getting emotional and incoherent.
“And then what?” she asked. “They’re going to have questions. Probably a lot of questions.”
“So we answer them. Honestly.”
“What if they ask how long this has been going on?”
Kiko stopped pacing. “We tell them the truth. That we’ve had feelings for each other for years but only recently admitted it. That we’ve been together since winter break.”
“What if they think it’s just a phase? Or that we’re confused?”
“Then we tell them it’s not. That we’re sure about what we feel.” Kiko came back to the bed, taking Rin’s hand. “We tell them that we know this is complicated and unconventional, but it’s real. And we’re not asking for their permission—we’re adults—but we are asking for their understanding.”
Rin nodded slowly. “What about the stepsister thing? The fact that legally we’re related?”
“We emphasize that we’re not related by blood. That we met as teenagers, not as children. That we weren’t raised as siblings in any meaningful sense—we were just two people whose parents happened to get married.”
“Do you think that’ll matter to them?”
“I don’t know,” Kiko admitted. “But it’s the truth. We can’t control how they react to the truth. We can only tell it and hope they love us enough to try to understand.”
They practiced a few more times, refining what they’d say, anticipating questions. But each run-through made Rin more anxious rather than less. Because no amount of practicing could prepare them for the actual moment. For seeing their parents’ faces when they learned the truth.
Friday night, Rin couldn’t sleep. She lay in the dark, Kiko’s arm around her waist, and stared at the ceiling.
“You awake?” Kiko whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Scared?”
“Terrified.”
Kiko pulled her closer. “Me too.”
“What if this ruins everything?” Rin voiced the fear that had been haunting her all week. “What if they can’t accept it and it destroys our family?”
“Then we deal with it. Together.”
“But what if they make us choose? What if they say we can’t be together?”
“We’re adults, Rin. They can’t actually make us do anything.” But Kiko’s voice was uncertain, and Rin knew she was scared too. “But even if they try, even if they threaten to cut us off or disown us or whatever—I’m choosing you. I need you to know that.”
“I’m choosing you too,” Rin said. “No matter what happens tomorrow.”
They held each other in the darkness, taking comfort in the certainty of that if nothing else. Whatever their parents’ reaction, whatever consequences came, they were in this together.
“Tell me something good,” Kiko said softly. “Something to think about instead of tomorrow.”
Rin thought for a moment. “When we’re done with school, and we don’t have to hide anymore, I want to take you somewhere. Just us. Maybe that cabin your dad used to take you to when you were little. The one by the lake.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want a whole week where we don’t have to be careful or quiet or worried about who’s watching. Where we can just be us.”
“That sounds perfect,” Kiko said. “What else?”
“I want to meet your extended family. Your mom’s side. The ones you’ve told me about but I’ve never met because they live in California.”
“They’d love you,” Kiko said. “My Aunt Marie especially. She’s always going on about how David needs to find someone who challenges him intellectually. She’d be thrilled that her genius niece found someone who can keep up with her.”
“I want to introduce you as my girlfriend,” Rin continued, getting into it now. “Not my stepsister, not my roommate. My girlfriend. And I want to hold your hand in public without caring who sees.”
“We could do that now,” Kiko pointed out. “We could just ... stop hiding.”
“After tomorrow, maybe we can.”
“After tomorrow,” Kiko agreed.
They fell asleep like that, whispering about a future where they didn’t have to hide, where they could just love each other openly. And for a few hours, Rin let herself believe it was possible.
Saturday arrived with perfect spring weather—sunny, warm, the kind of day that felt full of possibility. Rin tried to take it as a good sign.
Their parents were due to arrive around noon. Rin and Kiko spent the morning cleaning their room, putting away anything that might hint at their relationship. Not that there was much—they’d been careful not to leave evidence. But Rin found herself second-guessing everything. Were their beds too close together? Would their parents notice that they only seemed to have been using one?
“Stop,” Kiko said, catching her adjusting the beds for the third time. “They’re not going to know just from looking at our room.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Rin. Breathe.” Kiko took her hands. “We’re going to tell them tonight anyway. It doesn’t matter if they suspect something now.”
“I know. I just—” Rin took a shaky breath. “I want everything to be perfect before we ruin it.”
“We’re not ruining anything. We’re being honest. That’s different.”
A text came through on Rin’s phone: her mother, saying they were ten minutes away.
“They’re almost here,” Rin said, and felt her stomach drop.
“Okay.” Kiko squeezed her hands once more, then let go. “Remember—we’re just sisters today. Just roommates. We can do this.”
They went downstairs to wait in the lobby of their dorm building. When David’s car pulled up, Rin felt Kiko tense beside her. Then their parents were getting out, all smiles and energy, and they had to plaster on matching expressions of welcome.
“There are my girls!” Rin’s mother pulled them both into a hug, and Rin felt guilt twist in her gut. Her mother was so happy, so completely unaware of what was coming.
David hugged Kiko, then Rin. “You both look good. College is treating you well.”
“It’s great,” Kiko said, and her voice was almost steady. “Really great.”
They showed their parents around campus—the library where Rin spent most of her study time, the art building where Kiko had her studio space, the dining hall with its questionable but edible food. Normal campus tour stuff. And all the while, Rin was hyperaware of Kiko beside her, of the careful distance they maintained, of all the things they weren’t saying.
Her mother linked arms with her as they walked. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Your professors sent their mid-semester reports and they were glowing. Dean’s list for sure.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And you and Kiko seem to be doing well as roommates. No conflicts?”
“None,” Rin said, and technically it was true. They’d had disagreements, moments of tension, but nothing she’d call a real conflict. “We work well together.”
“I’m so glad. David and I were a little worried—sometimes even siblings who get along great can struggle living together. But you two have really made it work.”
Rin made a noncommittal sound, not trusting herself to respond.
Lunch was at a nice restaurant in town, the kind of place parents take their kids to feel like they’re providing something special. They sat at a table by the window, Rin and Kiko carefully positioned across from each other rather than side by side.
The conversation flowed easily—questions about classes, stories from home, plans for summer. Normal family lunch conversation. But underneath it all, Rin felt the weight of what they were going to say tonight pressing down on her.
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