He glanced over at you, his wife - though the word felt more like a title than a relationship. You were seated at the far end of the table, as far from him as possible while still fulfilling the social expectations that came with being his spouse. Your hands rested on your pregnant stomach, a subtle reminder of the heir you carried. Naoya narrowed his eyes, studying you with a mixture of disdain and indifference.

“You’d better pray that child you’re carrying is a son. A daughter would be a waste of time and effort.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said such a thing, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. He had made it clear from the moment the pregnancy was announced that he had no interest in a daughter. A daughter wouldn’t carry on the Zenin name in the way he desired, wouldn’t be the heir that he needed to solidify his place in the clan. To Naoya, only a son would suffice.

This had been the pattern since your marriage - a union devoid of love, built solely on the calculated benefits it would bring to the Zenin clan. Your feelings, your desires, your autonomy had been secondary considerations, if they were considered at all. He never wanted this - never wanted you. You were just another pawn in the endless game of power that defined his life.

"Have you gained weight?“ He asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He did it on purpose and you knew it. As you silently endured his barbed comments, he felt a surge of annoyance at your composure. Why wouldn’t you fight back? Why wouldn’t you challenge him, give him a reason to vent the simmering anger that had been building within him for months?

But you remained silent, a calm resolve in your eyes that only further stoked his irritation. Naoya had expected subservience from you, yes, but he hadn’t anticipated this quiet strength, this refusal to break under his relentless criticisms. It was as if you were determined to rise above his pettiness, to find some measure of dignity in a situation designed to strip you of it.