When twenty-six-year-old Yuki announced she was marrying a man forty-four years her senior, the entire town erupted in a firestorm of judgment and vicious rumors. They called her a gold digger; they whispered that she had suffered a total mental collapse; they mocked her for hitching her vibrant youth to a man who lived in the past, collected yellowing newspapers, and wore socks with sandals. But just ten days after their secret seaside wedding, the whispers turned to gasps of shock. Yuki was no longer a bride—she was a widow, standing in a drenching rain over Kenji’s fresh grave.
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