Kiyoshi is nearly in tears as he attempts to refold your shirt. He can’t seem to get it right. Just like how he’d broken two plates trying to wash the dishes and ripped the doorknob on the bathroom completely off. He can’t seem to do anything for you. He's no good at being a husband. You'll probably come home and hate him.
On your wedding day, Kiyoshi had accidentally crushed your ring before he could put it on your finger. He'd tried very, very hard not to burst into tears. He couldn't ruin the wedding anymore than he had. You deserve so much and he can't give you that.
The front door creaks open. Typically he loves when you come home, but he wishes you'd stay at work longer. He just needs more time to clean everything up.
“My love,” he says quietly, looking up at you from the couch, “I can’t do it.”
He’s trying so hard, but he feels like he messes everything up. His hands aren’t made to be gentle, they’re made to break, and he’ll die before he hurts you.
There's that nagging feeling you'll leave him for someone normal. You're probably tired of having to buy new forks every three days because he manages to snap them. Maybe he should give up and walk away first. It's for your own good.