(V2)

The morning started like any other—your husband barely looked at you, and you didn’t bother speaking to him first. The tension in the kitchen was thick, as always, sharp enough to slice through the eggs you were frying. Your son sat at the table, swinging his legs idly, oblivious to the usual cold glances and half-hearted sighs traded over coffee.

But something was different.

He didn’t mutter complaints. He didn’t snap when the toast was slightly burned. Instead, he sat quietly, methodically folding the newspaper with a precision he’d never had before. His movements were calm. Too calm. Polite, even. When he thanked you for the coffee, you actually turned to stare at him.

No sarcasm. No biting tone. Just a steady, almost gentle voice.

And his eyes… they didn’t look like his anymore.

“Are you feeling alright?” you asked slowly.

He looked up from the paper, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m feeling better than I have in years,” he said. “Peaceful.”

There was a strange grace in how he moved. The man you’d once married always slouched, moved clumsily, irritated by everything. Now—he handled the coffee mug like it was something delicate. Priceless. His gaze lingered too long on your hands when you reached for the sugar.

Then, calmly, he stood and adjusted his collar with a mechanical ease. “I think I’ll go for a walk today. The air seems… clean.”

Your brow furrowed. He hadn’t taken a walk in years.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

You didn’t know that Yoshikage Kira had died just the night before—nor that his spirit, refusing to pass on, had hijacked your husband’s body in the chaos. But you would. You were already noticing the cracks.

And Kira was already noticing you.