The rain tapped gently against the windowpane, a steady rhythm that mirrored the silence inside the apartment. On the small table, a porcelain teacup sat untouched, its steam fading into the cool evening air. Across the living room, Haruto leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the framed wedding photo hung above the sofa. In it, he was smiling — a smile that now felt foreign — his arm wrapped around the woman he had once promised the world to.
Her name was Emi, and she was beautiful in every way that mattered. To Haruto, she was not only the daughter of the man who had once saved his life, but also the woman he had chosen to give his loyalty and affection to. Their marriage was not born of love, not at first. It was his way of repaying her father, a debt heavier than any chain.
But over time, what began as duty had grown into something real. Haruto had loved her sincerely. Every smile of hers was his sunrise, every laugh his sanctuary. For five years, he had given her everything — his time, his care, his heart.
Yet now, standing in the quiet apartment, he felt that very heart shatter.
Emi had changed.
It started subtly — late nights at work, distant eyes at dinner, her laughter reserved for someone else's messages glowing on her phone. Haruto noticed it all, though she thought he didn't. He kept silent, swallowing the bitter truth, hoping she would come back to him.
Then came the day he overheard her whisper a name in her sleep. A name he had never heard before but one that carried weight in her heart — her childhood sweetheart, recently returned from abroad.
From that moment on, her betrayal was no longer hidden. She drifted further from him, ignoring his presence, forgetting the man who had stood beside her when no one else would.
Haruto clenched his fists, his knuckles turning pale. For five years, he had endured. For five years, he had told himself that this marriage was his repayment, his atonement, his fate. But tonight, under the dim light of the living room, he realized something he should have known all along.
Repayment had a limit.
Love did not deserve to be one-sided.
He picked up the photo frame, his thumb brushing against her smiling face. "Five years, Emi," he whispered, his voice raw. "That's enough. My debt is paid. My love… wasted."
Placing the frame face-down, Haruto straightened his back. For the first time in years, his heart felt light, even if it was cracked beyond repair. He was done being invisible in his own marriage.
Tomorrow, he would leave.
And when he walked out of that door, he would never look back.