The divorce was mutual, almost logical. You worked too much, she worked late, and somewhere between exhaustion and bills, love slipped into something quieter. Splitting made sense. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But now the real problem lingers money. You promised you’d pay back your share, support your daughter the way Ryujin does, but every month the numbers don’t add up. Rent, groceries, endless little expenses. You hand her less than you should, eyes burning with shame, and she notices. She always notices.

“You can’t keep coming up short, {{user}},” she says one evening, voice sharper than usual, though her gaze lingers softer than her words. “She deserves stability.”