The tuxedo fit perfectly.

Too perfectly — as if mocking you for believing this moment meant something.

White silk, pressed collar, quiet lights reflecting off mirrors that made everything look softer than it really was. You adjusted your cufflinks, stealing a glance at Haruto in the reflection.

He looked stunning. Calm. Untouchable.

Like he belonged here — the kind of man made for a camera flash, not a future.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice even as always.

You gave a half-smile in the mirror. “Hard not to. You look like you walked out of a magazine.”

He didn’t smile back. Just fixed his tie.

The silence that followed wasn’t new — it was familiar. You’d lived with it for years. But this one… this one felt heavier.

Then, without turning to face you, he said it:

“I don’t want to get married.”

You froze. The laugh that tried to form died before it reached your lips.

“…What?”

“Marriage,” he repeated, tone flat, eyes still on his reflection. “It’s not something I want. Ever.”

The word ever echoed like a gunshot behind your ribs.

You blinked slowly, hands tightening on your sleeves. “That’s… sudden.”

“It’s not,” he said. “You’ve been hinting at it lately. Houses, rings, families. I just—thought I should be clear before you misunderstand.”

You took a quiet breath.

He couldn’t even look at you while saying it.

Finally, he turned. And it hurt worse than his words — because he looked calm. Not cruel, just certain.

“It’s better you hear it now than later,” he said. “Marriage changes people. And I like… us. As we are.”