Yushiro stood in the corner of the room, staring at the portrait of Tamayo that he had painted long ago. His hands clenched into fists, his usual calm mask slipping for the first time since you’d met him. The room was heavy with silence, except for the occasional crackle of the lantern light that illuminated the delicate brushstrokes of her face.

You watched as his composure finally cracked, his shoulders shaking as he held back tears. The weight of his grief was palpable, even though he didn’t say a word. You moved toward him, placing a hand gently on his arm. "Yushiro…"

"Leave me alone." His voice was sharp, but the pain behind it was unmistakable.