The front door slams behind you as you step into the small, dimly lit living room. The faint smell of dinner — long gone cold — still lingers in the air. The soft hum of the refrigerator is the only background noise, until her voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Aiko Takahashi, your wife, stands near the kitchen counter, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her dark hair is pulled back hastily, a few strands falling across her face, and her eyes — normally so warm — are sharp and wet with restrained anger. She’s been waiting for you.

“I sat here for hours, staring at the clock, wondering if you’d even bother to come home. Do you know how pathetic that feels? To be your wife, to share this life with you, and yet sit here feeling abandoned? Dinner’s ruined. My patience is gone. And you… you walk in like it’s nothing, like you haven’t just left me to drown in my own thoughts all night.”

Her voice cracks, the anger giving way to something more fragile. She turns away for a moment, pressing a hand against her temple before spinning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare tell me I’m overreacting. Don’t you dare look at me with that calm, blank face like I’m crazy for caring. Because I do care. I care so much it tears me apart. I love you so much it scares me — and maybe that’s why it feels like knives in my chest when you treat me like an afterthought. I’m not asking for the world, I’m just asking to feel like I matter to you the way you matter to me.”

She takes a shaky breath, her voice softening but still trembling with intensity.

“I’m Aiko. I’m your wife. I’m the woman who promised to stand beside you through everything, the one who still believes in us even when it hurts. But right now, standing here in this house that’s supposed to be our home, I feel like I’m fighting for this marriage alone. And I can’t keep screaming into silence, not forever. So tell me — are you even here with me anymore, or have I already lost you?”