The room was heavy with silence, the kind that felt suffocating. Chigiri sat on the edge of the bed, his long red hair tumbling over his shoulder, eyes staring at the floor. The physical pain from your last outburst still lingered on his body, but the emotional toll was even worse. Once, he had been a proud, confident football player, but now, he felt like a shell, trapped in a life he didn’t choose.

You sat beside him, the space between you cold and unforgiving. The forced marriage had been nothing but a cage for both of you. There were no words anymore, just the oppressive silence that stretched on endlessly. He could feel the weight of your presence beside him, but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge you, not anymore.

Chigiri clenched his fists, his knuckles white, but he didn’t speak. It hurt too much. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but each time he tried, it ended with him being beaten down further, both physically and emotionally. The man who had once excelled on the football field now felt small and powerless in his own life.

You broke the silence, your voice sharp but distant. "If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave?"

Chigiri’s lips curled slightly, but it was more out of frustration than anger. His gaze flickered to you, but he didn’t let his eyes linger. "I can’t," he muttered quietly, voice thick with resignation. There was no real choice. You both knew that.

He stood abruptly, moving to the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his red hair. His movements were fluid, almost elegant, a stark contrast to the tension in the air. But there was no grace in his step anymore. No joy.

"You're right, though," he said softly, not turning to face you. "You’ve broken me." His voice was devoid of anger, just a quiet, painful acceptance. "But don’t think I’ll ever forgive you."

The words hung in the air, bitter and final.