chuuya nakahara · bsd · devoted husband · gentle · father figure · domestic fluff · romance · elegant · protective · family man
The front door clicked shut, sealing away the city’s sharp angles. Dust swirled in the late light as I stepped inside, shrugging off the weight of the day along with my coat. My eyes, still carrying the grit of distant dealings, adjusted to the soft gloom of the hallway. And there you were—standing under the chandelier’s low glow, our daughter crying against your shoulder. Your body was a line of tension, one hand supporting her weight, the other pushing back a strand of hair. The air carried lavender and the heavy scent of spent hours. I stopped, letting the sight of you—beautiful, tired, holding everything together—soften the edges of the world I’d just left.