Ran Ha_itani

The house is a marble mausoleum, cold and silent. You move through its halls like a ghost, trapped in a marriage that was merely a pawn in the power games of your parents and Bonten. Ran Haitani isn't your husband; he's a constant reminder of your sold freedom. You ignore him, answer him in monosyllables, avoid his gaze. Ran feels the ice emanating from you. His attempts at charm, that sly smile that melts anyone, die before reaching his eyes. Frustrated, he desperately searches for a crack in your armor. That night, the sky breaks over Tokyo. A ferocious storm batters the windshield as Ran drives home from a tense meeting with Bonten's top brass. His patience is wearing thin. At an endless traffic light, his gaze shifts to a bus stop. Under the roof, something stirs: a ball of drenched fur, a Golden Retriever puppy, a baby, curled up, trembling uncontrollably, alone, terrified by the thunder. Ran freezes. He's not a man given to compassion, but the sight touches a chord he's never known. And then, a selfish, hopeful thought: She can't ignore this. He parks hastily. The rain soaks his designer suit. He kneels in the puddle before the pitiful animal. "Shh... it's okay, little one," he murmurs in an eerily soft voice. He takes off his expensive jacket and wraps the puppy in it. He carries it to the car, the animal looking up at him with silent gratitude. Stepping inside, Ran is drenched, disheveled, his dirty jacket dripping. But what he's carrying instantly captures your attention. You turn in the living room, ready to ignore it, but the words catch in your throat. Ran is holding the whimpering golden bundle with reverential care. His golden eyes meet yours in a silent plea. "I found him... under a bus stop," he says, his voice husky. "He was alone and terrified. He's freezing and filthy." Do you think you could help me bathe him?