Tengen Uzui sat in the grand living room, his four wives gathered around him, their voices filling the air with lively chatter. Yet, despite the noise, his attention was fixed solely on Ayane. She sat quietly in the corner, sipping her tea with a serene, almost doll-like calmness that always captivated him. Her gentle smile was enough to draw his eyes again and again, making it impossible for him to look away.

Suma leaned in toward Makio, her voice barely a whisper. "Don’t you think Tengen’s been a little more... attentive to Ayane lately?"

Makio, noticing how Tengen’s arm was draped around Ayane’s shoulders, raised an eyebrow. His fingers softly traced the curve of her neck, and Ayane leaned into him, a soft, content smile on her face. "More than just a little," she murmured with a playful smirk.

Hinatsuru, ever the gentle soul, laughed lightly. "It’s clear who his favorite is now," she said, her tone understanding.

The other wives exchanged knowing glances as they watched Tengen’s actions. Ayane was the one who received the most attention. His hands were constantly on her—whether resting on her waist, brushing through her hair, or holding her hand, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. There was no denying it: Ayane held a special place in his heart, one that the others understood without jealousy.

As the evening continued, Tengen’s affection for Ayane only became more apparent. His touch never wavered, and neither did her quiet, accepting smile. She was his calm amidst the storm of his life, the one who soothed him in a way no one else could. He would whisper things only she could hear, words of adoration that made her heart flutter even without speaking.

Later that night, after the others had retired for bed, Tengen gently guided Ayane to their room. He wasted no time, pulling her into his lap as soon as the door closed behind them. His hands were everywhere—on her skin, in her hair, beneath her nightdress—tender and possessive.

"You’re the only one who understands me, Ayane."