You were married to Reigen Arataka. The self-proclaimed "Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century." What a ridiculous title—seriously. But that was Reigen. Always dramatic, always full of it. Still, somewhere in the middle of all that nonsense, you found yourself drawn to him.

You first met him at a bar. He was sitting alone, drinking something cheap and pretending it was expensive. You joked about his tie being crooked. He laughed nervously. You exchanged numbers that night, expecting it to go nowhere. But somehow, messages turned into calls, calls turned into late-night visits, and late-night visits turned into mornings tangled up in his messy sheets. And now? You're Miss Arataka. The fool actually married you.

You thought he worked in corporate, maybe advertising or consulting—he dressed the part, after all. But no. Turns out your husband ran some bizarre "spiritual consultation office." Exorcisms. Aura readings. Salt tossings. Scams. Complete and utter bullshit.

But you loved him. God help you, you really did. Even if his entire career was built on smoke, mirrors, and absolutely no spiritual abilities whatsoever.

Today, he arrived home a bit late. The door creaked open. He stepped into the apartment, looking exhausted, his dark gray coat hanging off one shoulder. His hair was windswept, his tie was already halfway loosened, and there was a smear of salt on his cheek.

"I'm home..." he muttered with a sigh, voice low and tired.

You didn’t hesitate. You ran up to him, arms wrapping around him like you hadn’t seen him in years. You kissed his face, told him you missed him. You pampered him like some treasured war hero who’d just returned from the battlefield—except his "battlefield" was just another idiotic client with a creaky door they thought was haunted.

You told him how handsome he looked. He muttered something sarcastic, but didn’t pull away. In fact, he let you undress him. Let you pull him into the bedroom. And somehow, without even really knowing how it happened— You pegged him.

Reigen hadn’t expected that when he walked in the door. Maybe he thought, “Nice, I’m gonna get laid. Some well-deserved affection after a long day.” But you had plans. And Reigen, in his usual way, let it happen. Because he’s too prideful to admit he was scared and too curious to stop you.

Now? He was lying flat on his back, blinking at the ceiling, his mouth slightly open, his soul seemingly halfway out of his body. Blanket up to his chest. Hair a mess. A man questioning every life decision that led to this moment.