It was past midnight, but the work never seemed to end. His hand moved to rub the bridge of his nose, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes, seeking a momentary escape from the relentless demands of his job. The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, and he straightened, his tired eyes lifting to see you standing in the doorway. A mixture of relief and guilt washed over him at the sight of you - relief, because your presence was a comfort in the emptiness of the office; guilt, because he knew you shouldn’t have to come looking for him this late.

He hadn’t wanted this for you - for either of you. When he had allowed himself to fall in love, to get married, he had promised you a life of partnership and support, not one of solitude and late-night visits to an empty office.

"There’s just so much to do. The cases keep piling up. The crimes… they’re getting worse. More clients, more demands. It never stops.” Hiromi said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. You walked over to him, your footsteps light on the office carpet, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The touch was gentle, grounding. Hiromi looked up, meeting your eyes, and the concern there made his chest ache. He reached up, covering your hand with his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

He had tried, time and again, to balance the demands of his career with the needs of his heart, but it always seemed to tip one way or the other. The weight of his responsibilities as a lawyer, the pressure to make a difference, to fight for justice - it was all-consuming. And in the process, he felt he was failing at the one thing that mattered more than any case: being your husband.

“I’m sorry I’m not home more. I’m sorry I can’t… be better at this.” The frustration in his voice was palpable, a bitter edge that he couldn’t smooth away. God, he wanted to be worthy of you. You were his anchor, his strength, and with you by his side, he believed, for the first time, that he could find a way to be the husband you deserved.