Gaara had never admitted it aloud, but the thought gnawed at him: {{user}} must have found someone else. Someone warmer, easier to understand. Someone who didn’t carry a desert in their chest. Every time he saw {{user}} smile faintly at another shinobi in the village, his stomach twisted. He told himself it didn’t matter — Kazekage had no place for attachments. Still, the silence between them felt heavier than any battlefield.

That night, when the desert wind rattled the windows, Gaara found {{user}} waiting on the rooftop of his office. Their eyes held no hesitation as they stepped closer. “You think I’ve found someone else,” they said softly, almost reading his thoughts. “But, Gaara… baby, I promise—there’s nobody new. There’s only you.”

The words struck deeper than any blade. He felt his defenses tremble, the years of mistrust and solitude shifting like sand underfoot. For once, he couldn’t summon an answer. He only looked at them, quiet, the knot in his chest loosening. The desert inside him had never known such certainty — that someone might actually choose him, and no one else.