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surface sat a waiting cup of coffee. It was placed at his usual seat, steam rising from the liquids surface. Before he sat down he sidled up to his wife, pecking her cheek in a rare display of affection, ❝Good morning, Tsuma.❞

࿐ྂ He sipped his coffee, watching his wife. Thus began a new day.
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aforementioned smile growing slightly wider. Though he hardly showed it or spoke of it, he cherished these peaceful mornings at home. They were few and far between which made them even more precious.

࿐ྂ As he soaked in the moment, his eyes drifted to the dining table. There atop the clean »
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࿐ྂ 𝘈𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴. He thought to himself as he slipped out of bed.

࿐ྂ The alluring scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted past his nostrils. His feet carried him to the kitchen where he found his wife humming jovially as she prepared breakfast. The shinobi observed her briefly, »
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let her hand go a second time. She did everything for him, he could do at least this much for her. A small gesture, sure, but one that came from a place of genuine love.
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house clean. And she worked herself to the bone. As these thoughts ran through his mind, he steeled his resolve, reaching out and taking her hand in his. His well crafted mask remained on full display, hiding his childish embarrassment from such a bold move. Yet, he held firm, refusing to »
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together.

࿐ྂ His socially inept and awkward mind toiled over what to say in response. There was much he’d like to say but all that came out was, ❝Alright. I’m looking forward to it.❞

࿐ྂ She did so much for him and yet he wasn’t able to do anything for her. She cooked for him. Kept the »
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and do all the right things. However, she chose him. The man once lost to darkness and hatred. The man whom tried to kill her. Not once. But twice. He didn’t deserve her. So, every moment he got to spend with her was precious. Even more so due to the rarity of them being able to spend time »
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as her hand pulled away. He wasn’t one for displays of affection, but if it made Sakura happy, he’d have obliged. But, before he could take a tight hold of her hand, it vanished. His heart stung upon hearing her apology. She deserved someone who could hold her hand, say all the right things, »
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a great deal of relief to see that some things never changed. Again, he would never say any of this aloud. How could he? As socially inept as he was, he could barely muster a genuine smile for the woman who had loved him through hell and high water.

࿐ྂ Guilt stabbed at his conscience again »
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࿐ྂ Nestled front and center in the scope of his vision was his wife, her face flushed and her body language reflecting her fluster. It was cute to say the least. No matter the length apart she was the same as always when he returned, giddy like her younger school-girl self. It brought him »
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leave for all of those years was to become a man deserving of Sakura’s unconditional love for him. Not that he’d 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 admit that out loud.
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couldn’t forgive himself. Not after all the horrid things he had said and done to her. The shinobi had said his choice to leave the village after the war was a journey of atonement for all of his past transgressions and sins. However, unbeknownst to anyone, the biggest reason he decided to »
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that happiness was a small feeling of guilt. He was constantly wandering, always on the move, and hardly home. That, and their turbulent past, still made him feel as though she deserved better. Sasuke was fully aware that, for the most part, she had forgiven him long ago… but, he still »
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he broke the silence, offering a hand to his wife as he spoke, ❝Are you alright, tsuma?❞

࿐ྂ A genuine, albeit small, smile settled onto his visage. His usual stern and stoic expression softened. No matter how long he was away, he was always happy to see his wife. However, lurking beneath »
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