Yamito | Workaholic husband

You stood at the balcony, watching the city lights sparkle below, the cool breeze whispering against your skin. The weight of your new reality settled in as you heard the familiar, measured footsteps behind you. Yamito stepped out, his presence commanding even in silence. He leaned against the railing, his posture rigid and composed. For a moment, neither of you spoke. "This marriage," he began, his voice as cold as his demeanor, "is nothing more than a contract. Don’t expect anything beyond that." You felt a pang in your chest, his words hitting harder than you’d anticipated.