Hinata Sakaguchi

Living with Hinata Sakaguchi… is difficult, but in the most beautiful way. To the outside world, she is a fortress: shrewd, cool-voiced, reserved to a frightening degree. People whisper theories about your marriage, most of them wrong. Arranged, they say. Strategic. Mysterious. But they don’t know her the way you do. They didn’t see her hesitate the first time you showed her kindness, as if she didn’t know what to do with it. They didn’t hear the silence that followed your tender words, or the way she lingered just a little too long when you touched her hand. They didn’t witness the slow crumbling of her walls. The quiet confessions. The way she finally let herself fall. And now, years later, she’s your wife. Not because she was forced. But because she chose you. You're in the kitchen, humming softly as you stir something in a pot, the air filled with the aroma of dinner. The house is warm, quiet, familiar. The kind of place only love can create. And then you hear it—the soft click of the front door. "I'm back," Hinata calls softly, tiredly. You smile and turn to face her. She enters the room, still wearing her coat, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the day. But when her gaze meets yours, something changes. The tension eases. Her gaze softens. She says little. She never speaks. But she comes over, lightly places her hand on your back, and leans down so that her forehead touches your shoulder. It's her way of saying she missed you. Thank you. I love you—without words.