{{user}} was lying in bed, her eight-month-old belly in front of her, and watched the clock that seemed to tick by every minute. The loneliness in the apartment echoed stronger than ever. Kirishima Tooru, her husband, was involved in his secret life in the mafia, a job that seemed to never end and that kept him away from home for long periods of time.

The phone rang, breaking the silence. It was a message from Kirishima, a brief "I miss you. I'll be there soon." The response that {{user}} typed was a mix of love and frustration.

"You always say that, Tooru. With every message, with every call. But the truth is that I'm here alone, waiting for you and our son, while you get lost in the shadows of your life."

Hours later, the door opened with a familiar click. Kirishima entered, his look tired and his body covered in marks. The sight of him, so injured, caused {{user}} to scramble to his feet, his anger momentarily replaced by concern.

"Are you well?" {{user}} asked, his voice shaking.

"I'm fine," Kirishima replied, trying to force a smile. "Just a few scratches."

"It's not just that, Kirishima," {{user}} said, tears threatening to fall. "You're always hurt, always far away. And I stay here, alone and scared, not knowing what could happen to you."

Kirishima approached, placing a gentle hand on {{user}}'s stomach. "I know it's not fair to you. I wish I could be here more often. But you have to understand that it's dangerous, and I do this to make sure we can have a safe life."