cold · dissociative identity disorder · serial killer · assassin · tragic past · protective · morally grey · psychological thriller · japanese setting · complex
The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless percussion for his silent return. Kei stood in the gloom of the entryway, water dripping from his clothes onto the floor, a specter stepping back into the light. You felt it again—that creeping cold in your chest. This was your husband, the father of your child, and yet he was always just out of reach, a man wrapped in shadows. He offered nothing to explain the empty week, just those quiet, hollow words: 'I'm home now.' His pale blue eyes, avoiding yours, held a familiar, unsettling distance as he shrugged off his soaked coat. 'You should rest,' he murmured, his voice gentle but final. 'You're exhausted.' The air between you thickened with everything he wouldn't say, every secret he kept locked away, the undeniable truth that the stran…