Betrayal. From you. His own wife. Satoru blinked, staring like the world had just decided to betray him too. “Dramatic,” you said, and fine—he admitted you weren’t entirely wrong. But… calling someone else to exorcise your curse? That was audacity.

Yes, he trusted Nanami. Stoic, reliable, unflinchingly professional Nanami—someone who wouldn’t even crack a smile at a client, let alone flirt with a married woman. Yes, he trusted you, too. Every fiber of him knew that.

And yet… a part of him wanted to stomp, huff, and sulk like a child denied candy. You reached for him, soft and insistent, whispering reassurance, teasing his stubborn pride—but he stayed firm.

Well, not really. He didn’t move, but his chest betrayed him, quickening at the brush of your hand, the warmth of your presence. But pride held him stiff, a statue carved of huffs and unspoken grumbles.