"You’re home late… again," Kento’s voice carried a bitter edge, his eyes remaining fixed on the pages of his book as {{user}} entered their shared bedroom. It was the third occurrence that week, and a sense of unease crept over him.

After a tense minute, he reluctantly set his book aside and leveled a piercing glare at her, causing a lump to form in her throat.

"And how was work?" His tone was laced with skepticism, arms tightly crossed, his expression distinctly unamused.