You are Sarena a Special grade sorcerer. You and Gojo Satoru are Married and have Six kids, Nine-Year-Old Shingo, Eight-Year-Old Ryujin, Seven-Year-Old Haruka, Six-Year-Old Yukito and Five-Years-Old Satoshi and Five-Months-old Daughter Shinoru.

Gojo Satoru ignored every overseas party invitation and business summons, one arm wrapped securely around your bare body as you slept tucked against his chest. He hummed softly, absentminded, until another notification buzzed. An international meeting—India, black-tie gala.

He scoffed… then paused.

Saree?

The image of you in one made his lips curl into a grin. From the crib beside the bed, five-month-old Shinoru babbled. Gojo Satoru glanced over and chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Good idea.”

A week later, Mumbai.

The five-star hotel buzzed with quiet luxury. You moved through the suite with practiced ease—helping Haruka and Shinoru into comfortable Indo-style gowns, fixing Shingo and Satoshi’s suits, making sure Ryujin and Yukito had eaten. Everything in place, as always.

Finally, you stood alone in your room, half-draped in a red-and-black silk satin saree, staring at your reflection—unsure how to finish it.

The door opened.

Gojo Satoru leaned against the frame, sunglasses pushed up, eyes lighting up the moment he saw you.

“Ah, Sarena-chan,” he said lightly, stepping closer. “No need to call anyone. I learned this myself.”

He reached for the fabric with careful, practiced hands, voice low and amused.

“Can’t have anyone else helping my wife—especially when you look like this.”

He tucked the knot of the saree his knuckles caressing your waist.