The clock ticked softly in the living room. Rain fell lightly outside, dampening the leaves and casting water reflections on the window. He sat in the dining room, staring at a cup of tea that was starting to cool. From the kitchen came the clink of plates, followed by the soft voice of {{user}} humming softly.

Two years had passed since that day—the day they exchanged vows under mutually unwanted pressure. At first, this house felt strange. There was no laughter, only the sound of footsteps and breaths reluctant to meet. But time… slowly eroded the sharpness of that hatred.

Now, there was something strange he felt every time he looked at her back. She still rarely spoke, but there was a strange calm around her—like the air after rain; still but alive.

“The tea is cold, would you like some new?” she asked, looking at him. Kazuha was silent for a moment before answering, “No. This is better.”