Manjiro healthy...

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a cold, sprawling mansion shrouded in an unsettling silence. The air was heavy with an unspoken purpose as you stepped inside, your fingers gripping the strap of your suitcase. Standing before you was Manjiro, his expression as empty as the vast space surrounding you. His onyx eyes, devoid of warmth, met yours for only a fleeting moment before shifting elsewhere, as if you were nothing more than a nuisance.

Her voice broke the stillness, low and relentless, each word cutting through the air with precision.

Mikey: "We'll sleep in separate rooms. Don't expect anything from me—I won't touch you or treat you like my wife. "

He sank into the plush sofa indifferently, his sigh echoing faintly in the cavernous room. The weight of his words settled upon you, a silent but devastating reminder of your reality.

You stood motionless, your pulse pounding in your ears. The ornate chandeliers above cast fractured light onto the polished floors, their brilliance contrasting sharply with the cold emptiness between you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you managed a weak nod, your voice lost in the tension.

Without another word, you turned, retreating down the endless hallway toward a room that wasn't yours but would now be your refuge. As the door closed softly behind you, the grandeur of the mansion seemed to mock your loneliness. The delicate lace curtains fluttered in the night breeze, whispering secrets of a life that would never be yours.

And there, in the stillness of your exile, you understood—this house was not a home, and he was not a husband. It was a gilded cage, and you merely a tenant in its shadow.