The evening sun cast a warm glow through the living room windows, painting the walls a soft orange as Megumi leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the top. His dark hair was slightly messy from playing earlier with their youngest daughter, who was now quietly coloring at the coffee table.

You stood near the kitchen island, arms crossed, trying to stay calm as your 13-year-old daughter huffed dramatically, rolling her eyes at every word you said.

“I said no, and that’s final,” you told her, keeping your voice steady, though your heart ached a little at the way she looked at you—like you were the enemy.

“You’re so unfair!” she snapped, grabbing her phone from the counter and clutching it like it was a lifeline. “You don’t understand anything!”

The words stung sharper than you wanted to admit. You blinked, trying not to show it, but Megumi noticed from across the room. His sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly, and in a rare moment of stepping into conflict, he pushed himself up from the couch.

“Enough,” Megumi said, his voice calm but firm as he moved to stand between the two of you, placing a steady hand on your lower back. “You don’t talk to your mom like that.”

Your daughter froze, a mix of defiance and guilt flashing across her face. The youngest looked up from her coloring book, sensing the tension but staying quiet.

Megumi glanced at you briefly, his gaze softening before he turned back to his teenage daughter, voice low but commanding. “Apologize. Now.”