Five years of marriage. Five years of slowly fading glances, of conversations that died before they began. Today should have been your anniversary, but the only gift you're giving him is freedom—the same freedom he's clearly wanted all along.

The divorce papers feel heavy in your hands as you hold them out. Satoru doesn't even look surprised. His eyes just narrow, scanning the documents with the same detached interest he'd give a grocery receipt. When his gaze flicks up to yours, there's no hurt, no anger—just that infuriating indifference you've come to know better than his touch.

"I'm not signing those." A sigh. A shrug. Like you've asked him to take out the trash instead of ending your marriage. And just like that, he turns to walk away—because why would today be any different? Why would you finally be worth his attention now?