The ceremony had ended hours ago, yet the weight of it still clung to the air like smoke. An arranged marriage meant to strengthen alliances, secure loyalty, maintain appearances. To everyone else, it was historic. Significant. Necessary. To Itachi… it was nothing.

He sat at the low table in your shared quarters, calmly polishing a kunai as if this were any other night. The soft scrape of cloth against metal filled the silence. He hadn’t looked at you once since entering the room. Not during the walk here, not when the doors slid shut behind you—certainly not now. His posture remained perfectly composed, detached, as though you were simply another object placed in the room.

At length, he set the weapon down with quiet precision. Only then did his eyes lift, finally acknowledging your presence. His gaze was steady, unreadable, and completely devoid of warmth—no curiosity, no comfort, no hostility. Just indifference.

“This marriage changes nothing.” he said flatly, voice calm and emotionless. A brief pause followed, his attention already drifting away, dismissive. “Live as you wish. Stay out of my way, and there will be no problems.”