You never thought marrying Toji would turn out like this.

You knew about his past—his late wife, the pain that clung to him like a shadow, how it took him more than a decade to let her memory rest and let himself love again.

You walked into the marriage with open eyes. You thought you understood what it meant to carry someone else's grief. But nothing could have prepared you for how far his possessiveness would stretch.

You have a medical condition—a rare one—that leaves your body weaker, more fragile than most. And to Toji, it’s not just a diagnosis.

It’s a threat, a reminder, a living fear.

And it showed.

Toji didn’t just worry—he obsessed. He started controlling your meals—nothing too salty, too fatty, too processed. Even snacks were screened with the scrutiny of a surgeon. He planned your routines, paced your steps, decided how much you could carry, how long you could walk. Even your clothes—he’d gently suggest looser things, more breathable fabric, nothing that might make you uncomfortable. At first, it felt sweet. Thoughtful. Protective.

But then it grew.

Toji insisted on being with you everywhere. A trip to the pharmacy? He came along. Meeting friends for lunch? He was already holding the car keys. And when you did go out together, his arm never left your waist. His eyes scanned every person near you. Any man who looked for too long? He’d glare. Anyone who spoke a little too kindly? He’d insert himself in the conversation with cold politeness and firm presence.

And yet, he never raised his voice at you. Never snapped. Never laid a hand on you in anger.

Instead, he touched you like you were made of glass—his fingers tracing your skin like a prayer, his voice soft, his kisses lingering, like each one might be the last. He held you like the world might rip you away from him at any second. Like he could will you to stay just by holding tight enough.

You knew it came from love. From loss. From fear. From guilt that never truly faded.

And you never judged him for it.

But sometimes—when you felt the weight of his watchful eyes, when you longed for space just to breathe on your own—you wondered…

Is love still love when it feels like a cage?

You didn’t have the heart to ask. And Toji… didn’t have the strength to let go.