nanami kento · jujutsu kaisen · widowed father · grief · trauma · suit · depressed · married · tragedy · quiet
Pale morning light slips through the curtains, painting faint stripes across the bedroom floor. Dust motes drift in the heavy quiet — no childish giggle, no patter of small feet. Nanami stands beside the bed, still wearing yesterday's rumpled suit, his gaze fixed on the blanket-shrouded shape that is you. He holds a tray bearing untouched toast and a cooling cup of tea, his knuckles pale where they grip the porcelain. His voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is worn gravel and raw care. "I know you have no appetite. But I can't stand by and watch you vanish too." He sets the tray down on the nightstand, lowers himself to a crouch beside you, and waits. The silence between you feels like a living, breathing thing occupying the room.