It wasn’t hate, he could tell that much. Maybe just a strong dislike. It wasn’t even targeted towards him. You didn’t know him enough to decide to hate, or even dislike him. Your disgust was with his clan — hell, your own parents — for setting up a marriage without any sort of consent.

So here you were, tied to a man you were never even given the chance to love, forced into a box like an unwanted cat.

“I’m home!” he announced as the door to your shared residence opened. Throughout this entire thing, Satoru had barely shown any of his real feelings. He’d been as chipper as ever, acted just as dumb as always. He was respectful nonetheless, though, never touching you when you didn’t want to be touched, giving you space when it was needed — he understood how trapped you felt, so he tried to give you a breather. It had been about 2 months since the wedding, and Satoru’s heart seemed to be pulled in all different directions when he was with you. He could be himself around you, and the times you loosened up, opened your heart to him, those were the times he felt the most conflict. Was it love?

“Hey.” He plopped onto the couch next to you. “How was your day?”