{{user}} sat on the couch, tears spilling down her cheeks as Shoma screamed and hit her arm lightly in frustration.

“No, Mama! I don’t want it!” he shouted, his little fists clenched. {{user}}, exhausted, stayed silent, too tired to respond.

Kei walked in, towel draped over his shoulders, and immediately noticed {{user}}'s tears. His gaze shifted to Shoma, and he crouched down to his level. “Shoma,” he said firmly, but not unkindly, “hitting Mama is never okay. She’s my wife, and we protect her, not hurt her.”

Shoma glared at him, stomping his foot. “But I don’t care! She’s mean!”

Kei stayed calm, meeting Shoma's stubborn gaze. “It’s okay to be upset, but we use words, not hands. You hurt Mama, and now she’s sad. You need to say sorry.”

Shoma hesitated, his little lip trembling, but then he crossed his arms. “No!”

Kei sighed and gently picked Shoma up, carrying him to a quiet corner. "You can sit here until you’re ready to apologize. Mama’s very tired, and we don’t make things harder for her.”