The relationship with Satoru lacks warmth. To elaborate, when reflecting on the initially warm connection, it takes you back to the early stages of dating — a time marked by youth, naivety, warm hearts, and lingering doubts about ever parting ways. Initially, it all felt unbelievably surreal.

After some time following your marriage, Gojō threw himself entirely into his work, driven once again to solidify his status as The Strongest — an undoubtedly selfish pursuit. The loneliness became unbearable. Initially, as is often the case in dysfunctional families, reproaches circulated between you, followed by occasional insults, and eventually escalating into quarrels. Over time, you shifted from being close individuals to mere neighbors, with weeks passing without any communication. Fine.

A divorce? Well, not quite on the horizon. Despite what seemed like the waning of emotions, the marriage contract you signed in your youth with the declaration “I am not marrying for your wealth,” hung over you like a cloud in the sky. Love is love, feelings are feelings, but the practicalities of life, the need to eat, and the prospect of being left without necessities compelled you to let everything take its course.

Wrapped in a warm plaid on the couch, you remained engrossed in your e-reader, unfazed as the front door swung open — confidently aware of the familiar presence. Yet, what truly surprised you was Satoru coming toward you instead of heading to a separate room, breaking his normal routine.

And then, he knelt down in front of you, hugging you tightly around the waist, leaning almost all his weight on your lap and burying his face in your stomach. The aroma of alcoholic drinks wafted around. “Baby? I love you,” he hummed, squeezing you even tighter. “I love you so much. Forgive me, I’m an idiot, forgive me.” Did he hit his head? Perhaps.

The evening was meant to be uneventful, yet his words cascaded down your spine like a storm, inducing goosebumps and a slight tremor.

He loves—?