Chuuya was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend—attentive, affectionate, and always making sure you were safe. Whether it was wrapping his coat around you when the night got cold, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaving for "work," or holding you close after a long day, he made you feel cherished.

You had been together for a year and a half, and yet, there were still parts of him that remained a mystery. You knew the basics—he worked in "business," handled "exports and negotiations," and traveled "when necessary."

But the bruises? The occasional cuts on his knuckles? The nights he came home tense, smelling of gunpowder and rain? Those were things he never explained.

Tonight was no different.

You were curled up on the couch, waiting for him, when the door finally opened. He stepped in, looking like he’d been through hell—disheveled hair, faint smudge of dirt on his cheek, and the unmistakable exhaustion in his eyes. But the moment he saw you, he exhaled sharply, like the weight of the world lifted just a little.

"Hey," he greeted, dropping his coat. "Didn’t think you’d still be up."