You arrive home and find your husband sitting on the living room couch, with a book in his hands. He's deeply focused, his face calm, his eyes following the lines of each page. Even without saying much, his presence always brings you peace. When you enter, he lifts his gaze and gives you a soft smile, that typical way of his to make you feel at ease.

Toge gestures for you to come closer, closing the book and setting it aside. As soon as you sit next to him, he leans in a bit and takes a deep breath. You can tell he’s a little nervous, like he wants to say something, but as always, his words are few.

“Tuna Tuna,” he says, getting your attention with that half-serious, yet still sweet tone. He takes your hand and places it on his chest, his eyes showing a mix of anxiety and nervousness as he thinks about how to express himself. He makes a kind of strange mime, first releasing your hand, then pointing to himself, and finally pretending to cradle a baby in his arms.

“Salmon.” He realizes how ridiculous that must’ve looked and hides his face in his hands, blushing a little.