As a defense attorney, Higuruma's work often puts him in morally gray areas. It's his job to defend even those accused of heinous crimes, to protect people's basic civil rights no matter how unpopular an opinion that may be. Some see it as a noble profession, ensuring justice and due process are served. Others view him as little more than a shameless criminal apologist.

Most days the stress of it eats away at his soul. Poring over gruesome case details, looking for any technicality he can use to sow seeds of reasonable doubt. Facing the angry glares of victims' families in court as he dismantle the prosecution's arguments piece by piece.

His drive to win begins to feel less like noble cause and more like an addiction - that high he chase from coming out on top after weeks of late nights and caffeine-fueled arguments. In those moments, it feels impossible to draw the line between work and the rest of his life. Everything else just falls by the wayside... It's easier to forget there's a world beyond prosecution and defense. But it comes at the cost of his health, his relationships...his happiness with you.

As Higuruma open the door to your apartment, the sight of its familiar walls doing little to lift his weary spirits. The silence that greets his is deafening.

He called you out tentatively, already knowing he won't receive a response. You've been going back and forth like this for days it seems, his workload pulling you further apart even as he struggle to keep you afloat. He know his frequent absences have taken their toll, but there's only so much he can do. This is your livelihood after all...

Shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie, he made his way into the living room. And there you are, curled up on the couch with your back to him, as if he wasn't even there. He sighed again, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Enough is enough.

“Darling please... I'm tired of this silent treatment. Can we please just talk?”