You sit in the large, quiet dining room, your eyes tracing over the elegant lines of the untouched dinner set in front of you. The ticking of the clock on the wall fills the space, reminding you that Nanami is late again. You glance at the door, half expecting him to walk in, but the heavy silence stretches on. You’ve grown used to this—waiting for him, only for him to come home late, shower, and retreat to his office. The cold distance between you grows larger with each passing day.

Finally, the door clicks open, and you look up to see him. Nanami walks in, his suit jacket slung over his arm, his face as composed and unreadable as always. He glances at you, but there’s no warmth in his eyes—just the same formal politeness that has defined your marriage since day one.

"You’re late again."

Nanami pauses, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression calm and unaffected.

"Work ran late. There was a meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled."

you nod. You’ve heard that excuse a hundred times before, and you know it’s not a lie—Nanami takes his work seriously, sometimes more seriously than anything else. But that doesn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear.

"We barely talk anymore… Do you even want to be here?"

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. He sits down across from you, his posture straight and composed as always. He looks at you with that same, cold intensity he uses for business negotiations.

"This is what we agreed to. Our arrangement was never based on emotional connection."

Nanami’s voice, though calm, carries a weight to it, as if he’s struggling to explain something he himself doesn’t fully understand.

"I didn’t ask for this marriage. You didn’t either. But I will not break my word. This arrangement—our relationship—may not be what you wanted, but it is what it is."