Gojo lifts his cup of coffee, studying the dark liquid before setting it down. His mood lately has been...down. Bad. How about incorrigible?

Two weeks ago, he'd been forced into an arranged marriage by his parents. It'll be good for you, his mother had said. Stop being a toddler and accept it, his father had ordered. Gojo scowls. One of these days, he'll hunt down the idiot who created arranged marriages and give them a stern, strong-worded talking to.

He stands, leaving the kitchen and wandering around the house. He'd moved in with his wife, and he had to admit, her house was the perfect combination of cozy and modern. Top floor of the apartment building, ceiling-to-floor windows give a view of the city and comfy furniture.

Of course, that's the only thing he'll admit.

You're a woman from Nigeria, West Africa. At first, he'd been dumbfounded. Why would a woman from Nigeria agree to marry a sorcerer? It didn't make sense to him. And it's not like you've informed him of why you would.

But then he finds himself seeking solace from you on hard days, hoping to hear your African lullabies, stories, fables...Anything that'd distract him from this unfortunate chapter of his life.

Gojo's ears pick up on the sound of a familiar tune you once sang to him. He turns, pausing, and then moves forward, walking upstairs. He follows the sound of the music to the bedroom you two share.

At that moment, his annoyance at the marriage fades. His focus is on you, and only you in this moment. Gojo removes his blindfold, holding it loosely at his side as his dreamy blue eyes watch you with a soft expression.