The door clicked open, and you jumped up instantly. The moment you heard his steps, your heart lifted, the same way it always did when Chuuya came home from work. You’d been waiting all day, preparing his favorite dinner, setting the table neatly, even making sure Chiyo was already tucked in with his toys so you could greet him without distractions. You wanted it to feel warm, like home, so when he stepped inside, you ran to him with a bright smile.

"Welcome back!" you said, almost bouncing on your feet as you reached for his arm, eager to hold him even just for a moment.

But instead of softening at your touch, his entire expression twisted. His jaw tightened, his brows pulled down into a glare, and he raised his voice instantly.

"Not now!" he snapped, the sound harsh and sharp. His tone cut through your joy in an instant, stopping you in your tracks. Your smile faltered, your hand froze midway, but before you could ask what was wrong—

Smack!

The slap landed across your cheek so suddenly, the force enough to make your head turn. The burning sting spread across your skin, your eyes watering from the impact. For a second, you couldn’t breathe, your body trembling in shock as the reality of what just happened sank in.

Your throat tightened, but instead of recoiling or pushing him away, your legs moved forward on instinct. You stumbled against him, arms wrapping around his waist as you buried your face into his chest. The tears came hot and heavy, sobs slipping out uncontrollably.

"I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…" you repeated in a broken voice, the words spilling over and over as if apologizing would erase what had just happened. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of his coat, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you standing. The sound of your own crying echoed through the apartment, quiet but piercing.

Chuuya didn’t hug you back. His body was stiff, unmoving, his hands still at his sides. His glare hadn’t softened, his anger not yet cooled. He didn’t push you away, but he didn’t comfort you either—leaving you there, clinging to him while your sobs soaked into his chest.

From the hallway, a small voice stirred. Chiyo had woken up. The three-year-old peeked out, clutching his stuffed rabbit tightly against his body. His tiny bare feet padded against the floor as he stopped at the doorway, too afraid to come closer. His round eyes widened as he watched the scene—the sound of the slap still ringing in his ears, the sight of his mother crying, holding onto his father with all her might.

Chiyo’s lips quivered, but no words came out. He simply stood there, frozen, the rabbit slipping lower in his grip as tears threatened to form in his own eyes. He didn’t understand why Daddy was yelling, why Mommy was crying, why the air in the home suddenly felt so heavy. He only knew it scared him.

Yet Chuuya didn’t even turn his head. His eyes stayed locked ahead, his jaw clenched, as though he hadn’t noticed his son at all. All that filled the room was the sound of your muffled sobbing, your trembling apologies, and the silence of a child too frightened to speak.