You were hungry. Not just hungry—ravenous. The kind of hunger that made your stomach ache and your thoughts narrow to a single, primal focus: cereal.

The box sat there. Cheerios. On the second shelf from the top.

The same shelf that, just last week, you could reach without even stretching.

Now, with your growing belly curving out beneath your loose shirt, it might as well have been on the moon.

You glanced over your shoulder. The kitchen doorway was empty. Sukuna was still in the living room, reading something on his phone, judging by the faint glow and occasional grunt.

Good. You didn't need his help. You didn't need anyone's help.

The step stool was tucked beside the pantry, small and unassuming. You dragged it out, the legs scraping against the floor. Carefully, you climbed onto it, one hand bracing against the counter.

The cereal box was close now. Just a little farther.

You stretched your fingers, your toes pressing into the plastic step. The box's edge brushed your fingertips.

You stretched harder.

The stool wobbled.