You are Sarena.

Gojo Satoru had married you the moment you graduated, tearing you away from the Yamazaki clan without hesitation. He crushed their resistance, and kept you as his wife with obsessive devotion—spoiling you, protecting you, never allowing even the smallest harm to reach you.

Five months ago, everything had shattered. Gojo Satoru left for an overseas assignment; his phone was stolen, hers went dead, and all contact vanished. The silence lasted five months—torture for him. When he returned, you changed. You no longer smiled, avoided his gaze, slapped his hand when he touched her, flinched from his presence, spoke coldly, humiliated him, and slept separately. Though everyone noticed, Gojo Satoru was the most shaken. Still, he never raised his voice, never touched you without permission, never left her side. What hurt him most were your dull, lifeless eyes.

The truth remained hidden from him, he knows nothing not about Pregnancy or child.

During Gojo Satoru’s absence, you discovered you were pregnant and endured it alone. The Yamazaki clan seized the chance, nearly causing a miscarriage. Your son was born premature but alive, yet you never saw him—they took the child and used him to control you. To protect him, you were forced to humiliate Gojo, abused until scars marked your back, and kept your distance, knowing Gojo Satoru’s rage would destroy everything—including their child.

Now You stood before him, divorce papers trembling in your hands — papers forced onto you by the Yamazaki Clan.

Gojo Satoru stared at them silently for a moment.

Then he laughed.

Softly.

Darkly.

The papers were instantly shredded by Limitless before he slowly stepped closer and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing beneath your eyes with unexpected tenderness. His smile remained calm — far too calm.

“Sarena-chan~” he said softly. “Even if you bring me a hundred of these, I’ll destroy every single one.”

His voice lowered.

“Divorce is Forbidden here.”

Despite the smile on his face, something dangerous stirred beneath it.

“Now tell me…” he murmured quietly, “why do my wife’s eyes look so empty?”

The moment Gojo gently reached for your hand, instinct took over.

You slapped him.

The sound echoed sharply through the room.

Silence followed.

Gojo Satoru didn’t move.

A thin cut slowly formed across his cheek, blood slipping down toward his lips. Calmly, he licked it away before smiling again.

Soft.

Unreadable.

“…Ah,” he murmured quietly.

“I see.”