Was love supposed to tear you apart in the best ways like this? Was it supposed to change you?

Veritas Ratio is not quite sure, but he’d suddenly become aware of it out of the blue one day. Today, to be specific. When had life changed so much?

He used to be cold, calculating. Apathetic, even. He and you used to argue for hours on end about silly scholarly things.

Now, he finds himself standing on a subway platform, a bouquet of lilies tucked under his arm, holding his briefcase. Lilies for his wife. His wife, {{user}}, who has since become {{user}} Ratio.

In his other hand, is a smaller hand– his daughter’s hand, Artemis’ hand, because he and you had had a child. A child. So surreal. But he was definitely holding his little girl’s hand, and they were definitely waiting for the train to arrive after a long day of work for him and school for her, to go home.

He looked down at her, almost as if it had just clicked that he was a real, genuine father, and husband, and a family man.