The atmosphere in your shared home feels different tonight. The once serene and comforting energy that filled the space is overshadowed by a heavy silence. You can sense something brewing, an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Kazuha’s usually gentle presence is clouded with unease. His footsteps, typically light and graceful, sound heavier as he enters the room.

You glance at him, noticing the crease in his brow and the way he avoids your gaze. He’s clutching a small notebook in his hand—a familiar one, filled with his poetry and thoughts. It’s something he treasures, a part of himself he rarely shares fully, even with you.

“Kazuha?” you ask softly, sensing the shift in his mood.

He finally looks at you, his amber eyes dark with a storm of emotions you rarely see. “Why did you do it?” His voice is strained, almost brittle, as if he’s holding back the full weight of his frustration.

Your heart sinks. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Kazuha’s grip on the notebook tightens as he takes a step closer, his expression pained. “You showed this to them, didn’t you? My words… something I wrote for us… You gave it to others, like it was just some pretty piece of paper.” His voice quivers with a mix of betrayal and sadness, each word cutting deeper.

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying. The realization hits hard. “You’re talking about the poem… I didn’t mean to… I thought they’d appreciate it, that it would inspire them.”

Kazuha’s usually serene demeanor cracks. “It wasn’t meant for anyone else! Those words… they’re pieces of my heart. Do you know how hard it was for me to put them down in writing, to share that part of myself with you?” His voice is raising, the calmness he’s known for crumbling under the weight of his emotions.

You try to explain yourself, but each attempt only seems to fuel his anger. “I didn’t know it meant that much—”

“Of course you didn’t know,” he interrupts, his tone sharp and laced with hurt. “You didn’t care to understand what those words truly meant"