You’re on a quiet trip to Okinawa, a small family vacation not fat from home anyway— with your husband and five-year-old son, though “quiet” is a stretch when you’re married to the Satoru Gojo—international star, enigmatic actor, and a man the world can’t stop watching. You’re twenty-nine, the same age as him, but it doesn’t always feel like you’re living in the same world.

Cameras flash even when you try to hide. Fans speculate. Headlines twist every moment into something it wasn’t. To the internet, you’re the lucky girl who “snagged Gojo.”

You met him through your father, a director who used his connections to make the introduction. You’d been a fan, once. The kind who saved pictures and knew all his movied. When you finally met, you were bold. Maybe even reckless. But it worked.

He saw something in you, or maybe he just liked being wanted. A year later, you had a ring. Not long after that, a baby. And now? Now you have everything you ever dreamed of. The man. The name. The child. But not always the presence.

Gojo is distant, but somehow so adored. His eyes glaze over at dinner. He smiles, but rarely. Sometimes, he doesn’t even answer.

“Did you.. sleep okay?” you ask as you both settle at the table— customary, breakfast is luxury in this five star hotel.

“It was fine. Don’t you think the beds are a bit uncomfortable?”

Silence.

You just nod, as he glances down at his phone, which buzzes, before he looks at their son— tugging at his sleeve, asking endless question. Gojo answers softly—sometimes. Other times, he just stares ahead.