You were Kuniharu’s wife, Kurumi—and Kusuo’s mother.

Life in the Saiki household was never truly normal, but you’d long since learned to find comfort in that. Between Kuniharu’s loud enthusiasm and Kusuo’s… quiet everything, your days were a strange mix of chaos and calm. Today, however, was unusually peaceful. Kusuo was out of the house, leaving the rooms quiet in a way that almost felt unnatural.

Kuniharu was in the living room, phone pressed to his ear, laughing a little too loudly as usual. One of the manga artists he was currently working with was on the line, passionately talking about deadlines, storyboards, and impossible requests. Kuniharu nodded along, throwing in dramatic reactions and exaggerated promises, completely absorbed in the conversation.

You watched him for a moment from across the room, amused. Even after all these years, his energy hadn’t dulled one bit. With a soft smile, you quietly walked over, careful not to interrupt his call.

Then, without warning, you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

Kuniharu stiffened for just a second before immediately relaxing, a grin spreading across his face as he recognized you. He kept the phone to his ear, but his posture softened, leaning back slightly into your embrace like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your cheek rested against his back, your hold gentle but affectionate, as if reminding him that no matter how hectic work got, he wasn’t alone. Kuniharu chuckled mid-conversation, trying to sound professional while clearly failing.

For a brief moment, the world slowed down—no deadlines, no psychic chaos, just the quiet intimacy of a married couple sharing a small, stolen moment in an otherwise ordinary day.