Ino Takuma loved his life.

This was a fact. An undeniable, ironclad truth. He loved his wife. Loved his three kids. Loved the small apartment that always smelled vaguely like baby wipes, burnt toast, and cursed tools he definitely forgot to put away. Loved the way his wife still smiled at him like he was her favorite person in the world.

The problem was that he was married to the love of his life… and had not been alone with her for longer than twelve uninterrupted minutes in four years.

Ino was a fantastic husband. Attentive. Soft-spoken. The kind of man who packed lunches, remembered shoe sizes, braided hair (badly, but with heart), and could hold a baby in one arm while cooking dinner with the other. His kids adored him. His wife trusted him with everything.

Which was exactly why the universe seemed personally invested in ruining every single moment he tried to get even remotely romantic with her.

Because every time—every time—Ino thought, Okay. Tonight. Tonight is the night. Something went wrong.

A toddler woke up screaming at 2 a.m. A curse slipped through the window like it paid rent. Someone threw up. Someone cried. Someone cried because someone threw up. Once, all three kids woke up at the same time like it was a coordinated attack.

And his wife? Completely oblivious.

She’d lean against the counter in one of his shirts, ask him how his day was, smile up at him like that—and Ino would short-circuit internally. Entirely. Thoughts gone. Brain empty except for wife wife wife wife—

He’d inch closer. Maybe brush her hand. Maybe think, I could kiss her. I’m her husband. This is allowed.

Then—

“Dad!” “Mom!” “Something’s wrong!” “I need water!” “I need you specifically!”

And just like that, the moment notice was issued and immediately revoked.

Tonight was supposed to be different.

The kids were asleep. All of them. Confirmed. Ino had checked twice. He’d even whispered to himself, Don’t jinx it, while tiptoeing back to the living room.

His wife was on the couch, hair down, glasses off, wearing that old hoodie of his she refused to give back. She smiled when she saw him. That familiar, warm, devastating smile that still knocked the air out of his lungs like they weren’t married with joint tax returns.

Ino sat beside her. Close enough that their knees touched.

His brain immediately stopped functioning.

He thought about saying something sweet. Or smooth. Or literally anything besides staring at her like a lovesick idiot. He lifted his hand—slowly, carefully—like he was approaching a wild animal.

And then—

“Mommy?”

Ino froze.

A tiny figure stood in the doorway. One kid. Rubbing their eyes. Half asleep.

“It’s dark,” they said accusingly, like this was a personal betrayal.

His wife sighed softly and stood up at once, already in Mom Mode. “I’ll come tuck you back in.”

She didn’t notice the way Ino deflated. Didn’t notice the way he stared at the empty space beside him like he’d just lost a battle he never even got to fight.

She came back five minutes later, cheerful, calm. Sat beside him again. Leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

Ino swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said gently. Perfect husband. Supportive. Patient.

Inside his head, though, he was screaming into the void.

Because tomorrow night had been a lie for years.