The estate is quiet when Giyu returns, the path outside already swallowed by the darkness of night as he slides the door open, slipping inside. He closes it behind him soundlessly, not wanting to disturb you, not if you’re already fallen asleep.

He hadn’t always returned like this. Before, this place was nothing more than a stop to sleep, a roof that waited in silence, as if indifferent to whether he came back or not. It was just walls and emptiness. That was before you. And more than that, before the child you carry. His child. Something that was never planned, that neither of you imagined for your lives, but it exists now.

It’s no longer empty. You wait here, and so does the fragile heartbeat you carry.

His feet take him to the main room, eyes falling on you, lying on the futon. The sight loosens something inside him that Giyu didn’t realize was wound so tightly during the journey home, and a small sigh slips past his lips, “…I’m sorry I’m late.”

You came to live here not long ago, after the truth of your pregnancy had forced itself into your lives. He hadn’t known what to say then—hadn’t known how to react except with fear. Fear of losing you. Fear of losing you both. It still lives inside him. But keeping you here, far from demons, is the only way he knows to fight it. Even if he cannot always be at your side, he can at least give you safety.

He kneels slowly at the edge of the futon, and his hand reaches out, resting against your belly. Warmth greets his palm, and with it the reminder that your child is real. Alive. “How have you been feeling? Has the baby… been moving a lot?”

Giyu knows nothing was perfect, nothing was prepared, but he is here. He’s trying, for you. For both of you.