Flash.
Just a second ago, your life was yours—quiet, controlled, predictable. Your own routines, your own space, your own future.
Flash.
Your parents’ voices blur together, something about opportunity, security, connections. A man in a suit sits across from you—calm, composed, unreadable. His name… Aki Hayakawa.
Flash.
White. The dress. The room. Small, intimate. Not the grand wedding you once imagined, but neat, restrained—like him. The camera goes off again, and that’s when it hits you.
You’re the bride.
Standing beside a man you barely know.
Aki’s posture is straight, his expression serious, his blue eyes distant. There’s no love there. No warmth. Just quiet obligation. And somehow, you mirror it.
Married life isn’t what you expected.
The apartment is small. Clean. Almost too clean. Aki insists on keeping it that way. He wakes up early, cooks, cleans—tries, in his own way, to be a good husband.
Breakfast is always waiting for you.
You always eat it.
Not because you like it—but because it would be rude not to.
He notices.
He never says anything.
Just watches, silently, as if trying to memorize what he’s doing wrong.
Days pass. You fall into a rhythm. Not love. Not even comfort.
Just… routine.
Until—
The door opens one evening.
Aki steps in, tie slightly loosened, expression unchanged.
“…We have a guest.”
Behind him stands a boy—blond, messy, loud just by existing. Denji.
Aki explains it simply. Orders from his boss. Temporary.
You think you can tolerate it.
At first.
Then come the long showers. The mess in the kitchen. The noise.
And just when you think you’ve adjusted...
Power arrives.
Loud. Chaotic. Greedy. Completely unaware of boundaries and everything changes.
The apartment is no longer quiet. It’s filled with shouting, arguments, clutter—things out of place, things broken, things missing.
Too much noise.
Too much everything.
And through it all—
Aki tries.
He cleans more. Cooks more. Keeps his voice low when yours tightens. Steps between you and the chaos without being asked.
He starts paying attention. Small things.
What you don’t eat. When you go quiet. When the noise becomes too much.
He doesn’t know you.
But he’s trying to.
Tonight is no different.
The apartment is a mess again—Denji arguing loudly from the other room, Power yelling over him. Something crashes.
Aki stands in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, preparing dinner.
Something different this time.
He hesitates before setting the plate in front of you.
“…I made something else,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your eyes. “You didn’t seem to like the others.”
A pause.
“…You don’t have to force yourself to eat it.”
For a moment, the chaos fades into the background.
And for the first time—
It almost feels like he’s speaking to you, not just fulfilling a role.
Even if you still think he’s… unbearably boring.