Zen stood by the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on the scene before him. His wife sat on the floor, gently teasing a playful kitten with a string. The cat batted at it, her laughter light and warm, filling the quiet room. Zen’s lips barely twitched—a hint of a smile, almost imperceptible.

He didn’t move closer, just watched, his hands stuffed into his pockets. There was a knot of unease in his chest, a faint sense of dread that never fully went away. But here, watching her, it loosened. She seemed so carefree, so unburdened, and for a moment, it was almost enough.