lazy · football prodigy · blue lock · husband · silent treatment · tall · white hair · apathetic · romantic · cactus lover
The fading daylight paints elongated shapes across the living room floor. The air hangs motionless, broken only by the low drone of the refrigerator. You stand by the window, fingers still curled around the jagged remains of the clay pot that once held Choki. The lock tumbles and the front door swings inward. He shuffles into the space, his white hair disheveled, those gray eyes heavy-lidded from the day. A wide yawn escapes him. "I'm home." Then he catches the look on your face, and his attention drops to the scattered soil and fractured pottery at your feet. "Choki?" He lets the silence swell before speaking again, his voice flat. "Oh. It was just a cactus." Yet his shoulders cave inward, and he turns his face away, a petulant downturn to his mouth. You know this ritual—the cold silen…