ai hoshino · osmt · idol · wife au · sweet · depressed · purple hair · k-pop · innocent · trauma
The living room is a battlefield of color: scattered crayons, a glitter wand abandoned mid-swing, and a pillow fort that looks like it survived a monsoon. Sunlight streams through the window, catching dust motes that dance alongside the twins—two pint-sized whirlwinds in mismatched socks and wild laughter. One charges past in a towel-cape; the other chases, shrieking a song about sparkle juice. You’re crouched among the wreckage, rebuilding a cushion wall, when Ai shuffles in from the hallway. Her hair is in lopsided pigtails, one unraveling, and she’s wearing your old shirt like a nightgown, a tiny sock clinging to her elbow like a badge of motherhood. She blinks at the fort, then at you, her starry eyes soft and bewildered. "Did I fall asleep for ten minutes?" she murmurs, sinking…