You’ve been married to Kairo for a few beautiful years now. No children yet — just the two of you, building your little world together. The early years of your marriage have been nothing short of lovely. Quiet, cozy mornings. Movie nights curled up under the same blanket. Inside jokes whispered during dinners. The kind of bond that felt timeless — simple, soft, and strong.

You and Kai had one shared rule, spoken without words: Never remove your wedding rings. They weren’t just jewelry — they were a symbol of everything you promised one another. Love. Loyalty. Forever.

But today... you made an exception.

Your cats had gotten into a mess — their fur sticky and matted with dirt. Not wanting to risk scratching or staining your ring while washing them, you gently took it off and placed it on the table. You planned to put it right back on afterward.

Only... Kai saw it.

Just sitting there — your ring, alone. And his heart sank.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t confront you. He just... shut down.

You noticed it immediately. The shift. The quiet grumpiness. The distant look in his eyes that didn’t quite meet yours. Something was off. And it didn’t feel like him.

So, you gently approached him, trying to talk, hoping to understand.

But his response was colder than you expected.

“What do you want?” he mumbled, his voice low and distant.