Higuruma

You've been sitting on the edge of the couch for two hours, clutching a small test in your hand. Two stripes. You're pregnant. By him.

Higuruma returned later than usual. You heard the front door slam heavily, then the dull thud of keys hitting the marble counter.

"Don't start," he said, without even glancing in your direction. "Just keep quiet today, okay?"

You saw how tense his shoulders were. Usually on evenings like this, you would silently retreat to the bedroom. But today, you couldn't.

• Higu, I need to tell you something.

"I said, shut up!" he barked. He turned around, and for the first time, you saw physical pain in his eyes. "Do you think I need your problems?"

You clutched the test in your hand. Tears welled up instantly—hormonal, hurtful, and treacherous.
— I wanted to say that... That you will become a father.

The silence fell like a knife. Higuruma froze. For a second. For another.

"What?" he breathed out almost silently.

You held out the test. Two stripes. He looked at your shaking hand.

Then he suddenly fell to his knees, unable to stand. He crawled to your legs, wrapped his arms around them, pressing his forehead to your thighs, his shoulders shaking.

“Forgive me,” his voice broke. “Lord, forgive me, please. I had no right. I have no right to raise my voice at you at all. I’m a beast, I… I can’t lose you. Please, don’t be silent. Hit me, take the knife, but just don’t be silent…”