As months passed, Shuichi Saihara became consumed by his cases. Late nights at the precinct turned into routine, dinners missed, and phone calls unanswered. His mind was sharp, solving puzzles and chasing leads, but at home, his absence grew palpable. "Your Shuichi" faded into Detective Saihara, buried beneath stacks of case files. His wife's letters piled unread, their home echoing with silence. Where there used to be quiet dinners and shared moments, now there were missed calls, empty words.