Tonight, though, everything felt sharply in focus—the chill of the air, the weight of your bag on your shoulder, and the familiar sleek silhouette of Katsuki's car waiting by the curb.

A small, genuine smile had already begun to form on your lips as you stepped closer, reaching for the passenger door.

The smile died the instant the door swung open.

There, in your seat, sat a woman with immaculately styled hair and the kind of polished office attire that spoke of deliberate effort. Her handbag rested on her lap like a prop.

He didn't turn. He didn't acknowledge you.