It was a complete outburst.
And I knew it.
But I had married Otoha—the daughter her own parents had given up on.
Surely, I was entitled to some frustration.
“Forget it. I’ll just grab something from the convenience store.”
Feeling awkward, I grabbed my wallet and stormed out.
The moment I stepped outside, regret hit me.
Her face had crumpled with hurt.
Her usual standard-issue smile had completely disappeared.
For once, her crescent-moon eyes had widened into perfect circles—shocked, wounded.
I had let things fester too long.
If I was going to say something, I should have done it sooner—gently, gradually.
And seriously—what was I even saying about slippers?!
That ridiculous pat-pat sound—
It wasn’t actually loud.
It was just something I had fixated on.
And the truth was—
I didn’t hate her little sound effects anymore.
If anything, they had softened the edges of my otherwise frustrating days.
Honestly, what really pissed me off was the fact that I always fell asleep first.
Every night, I planned to finally get closer to her.
But then, her pat-pat footsteps would lull me to sleep before I could even try.
Those pat-pats were like a sleep aid, gently pulling me into rest.
Which meant, in a way—
I had actually been relaxed.
At peace.
I had spent so long holding onto divorce as my trump card, but maybe…
Maybe I was actually fine just as things were.
I had only wanted to remind her how lucky she was to have a husband like me.
But I had gone too far.
“I should apologize when I get back.”
I picked up a deluxe chirashi sushi from the convenience store and headed home.
But when I got back—
Otoha was gone.
“Otoha?”
I called out into the dark, silent apartment.
For a moment, I thought maybe she was just sitting in the dark, crying.
But no.
I knew right away.
Because the balance of the house was gone.
The umbrella stand by the entrance.
The little trinkets in the living room.
The curtains in the bedroom.
Everything was still there—
But the harmony was broken.
All the little, lopsided objects she had placed with care now felt oddly unstable.
Even her warm, hand-drawn illustrations seemed… lonely.
Without Otoha, the house had lost all its warmth.
It had turned into something stark, barren.
“…No way. She actually left?”
Over that?
And besides—what was she even going to do without me?
She was a nobody. A leftover.
Marrying someone like me had been a miracle for her.
Surely she wouldn’t just run over something this trivial.
She should be grateful.
She should appreciate me.
She should endure a few harsh words and know her place.
Any logical person would realize that and come back.
But—
Was Otoha someone who thought like that?
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