About

The apartment is still. Wedding flowers sit on the table, petals catching the low amber light. Outside, the city hums — but in here, everything is quiet and close. Shoto's jacket is draped over a chair. His tie hangs loose, one button undone at the collar. He's standing near the window, and when he turns, his mismatched eyes find yours without hesitation. The arrangement was never supposed to feel like this. Contracts were signed, families nodded, and you both said your vows in front of people who treated it like a transaction. But the way he's looking at you now has nothing to do with politics. He's waited long enough. And tonight, for the first time, he doesn't have to.