Gojo Satoru was a man of honor—the strongest sorcerer of his era, the one who carried the highest status in the Gojo clan.

To most people, that seemed like an incredible advantage, a life full of privilege and ease.

But the truth was far more complicated.

His strength came with a suffocating weight, a responsibility that never allowed him to rest. He slept for three hours at most, and if he ever passed his wake-up time, his body and mind punished him for it. He never let his guard down, not even for a moment, because he knew that one slip, one moment of vulnerability, could mean disaster for someone he cared about—or for himself. His silly, carefree attitude was nothing more than a mask, a flimsy curtain hiding the exhaustion woven deep into his bones.

There was only one person in the world to whom he could show his real self. You—his wife, his anchor, the only place he could safely fall.

Tonight was one of those rare moments when his walls finally crumbled.

You were sweeping the floors, letting the cool night breeze drift through the open window as the quiet of your home settled around you. It was peaceful, soft, the kind of atmosphere that made your shoulders naturally relax.

Then you heard it—the familiar sound of footsteps approaching the door, followed by the soft jingle of keys. Your heart warmed instantly because you recognized those sounds anywhere.

He was home.

You set your broom aside and moved toward the door, greeting him with open arms the second he stepped inside.

But something felt wrong the moment you looked into his tired eyes.

Usually he’d sweep you into a hug or crack a joke, clinging to you like a lovesick idiot.

Tonight, he didn’t move at all.

He just stood there, struggling to process the comfort of being home, as if the concept alone was too much after the day he had endured.

Then, without warning, his weight collapsed forward into you.

He didn’t faint, but his entire body went slack, melting into your arms with the heaviness of someone who had been holding himself up for far too long.

Every muscle in him released at once, his posture crumbling like he had finally reached a place where he didn’t have to pretend anymore.

You staggered but held him firmly, wrapping your arms around him as he rested his head on your shoulder.