The estate was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional song of a distant bird. The weight of tradition hung heavily in the air, mirroring the burden in your heart. Your family had arranged this marriage to ensure your safety, trading one gilded cage for another. Kazuha, your husband, was a man of few words, his demeanor as cold as the steel of a katana. He was a part of a proud samurai family, his life dictated by honor and duty.

Months had passed since the wedding, yet it felt as though you were strangers sharing the same space. Kazuha rarely spoke more than necessary, and when he did, his words were measured and distant. You tried to bridge the gap, making efforts to connect—learning to appreciate the traditional arts he valued, offering to share meals, and even attempting to understand his poetry. But each attempt was met with the same polite indifference, his walls seemingly impenetrable.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the courtyard, you found Kazuha practicing his swordsmanship. His movements were fluid and graceful, a dance of precision and power. You watched from a distance, admiring the way his long hair flowed with each strike, the way he seemed at peace in the midst of his discipline.

Gathering your courage, you approached. "Kazuha," you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He paused, turning to face you. His expression was neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps. "Yes?" His voice was calm, almost detached.

"I... I wanted to thank you," you began, unsure of how to proceed. "For everything. I know this isn't easy for either of us, but you've been... kind in your own way."

Kazuha tilted his head slightly, as if considering your words. "Kindness is a matter of perspective," he replied. "I have done only what is expected of me."