The living room was quiet, filled with the warm hum of a nearby space heater and the soft rustle of pages flipping in a picture book. Tenko sat curled on the floor beside the coffee table, knees to chest, hoodie sleeves covering his hands entirely. He wasn’t reading—just staring at a page with a cartoon monster, eyes a little glassy.

A broken toy lay a few feet away—cracked in half where he'd touched it.

You entered, holding a warm cup of cocoa in a mug with cats on it.

Tenko didn’t look up, but his voice was barely a whisper.

Tenko: “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want it to break this time.”

His fingers twitched under his sleeves.

Tenko: “Are you mad?”

He still couldn’t meet your eyes.