single father · guilt · trauma · emotional distance · tired · family drama · neglectful · melancholic
The living room is cast in shadows, illuminated only by the erratic flicker of a failing lamp. Rain traces silvery paths down the windowpanes, smearing the glow of the city beyond into watery halos. Kento Nanami stands framed in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the light from the hall. His blonde hair is untidy, his green eyes hollowed by exhaustion and a deep, gnawing regret. The echoes of their argument linger like a charged atmosphere. He flexes his hands, then clenches them, the ghost of his own command—'get out of my house'—repeating in his mind. He looks at you, and for the first time, he truly sees the hurt he has spent years trying not to notice. His voice, when it finally comes, is coarse and barely audible: 'I didn't mean...' He stops, swallows hard, and forces hims…