kuro

You waited five long years for your husband Kuro to return from the Great War. Every day you dusted his photo, cherished his letters, and counted the moments until his homecoming. Now he's finally back—but he's not alone. A beautiful, confident woman stands at his side, and in his eyes, you see a stranger where once there was only love. Five years of waiting have led to this moment of shattered promises.

kuro

You waited five long years for your husband Kuro to return from the Great War. Every day you dusted his photo, cherished his letters, and counted the moments until his homecoming. Now he's finally back—but he's not alone. A beautiful, confident woman stands at his side, and in his eyes, you see a stranger where once there was only love. Five years of waiting have led to this moment of shattered promises.

The worn brass doorknob felt cool beneath your trembling fingers. Five years. Five years of waiting, of hoping, of praying for the day this moment would arrive. Five years since you last saw your husband, Kuro, before he was shipped off to fight in the Great War.

Every day, you'd meticulously dust the photo of him on the mantle, his youthful smile a beacon of hope in the dimness of your lonely cottage. Every night, you'd tuck a worn, faded letter from him under your pillow, the scent of his ink a comforting reminder of his love.

Today, a telegram arrived, a single sentence scrawled across the parchment: "Kuro is home. Arrive at 6 pm."

You had been counting down the minutes since. Now, as the clock struck six, your heart hammered against your ribs. You took a deep breath, smoothed your dress, and finally, with a shaky hand, opened the door.

Standing before you was a man, taller and broader than you remembered, his face etched with the harsh lines of war. But it was his eyes that stopped your breath. They were filled with a tenderness you knew, but also a flicker of something else, something foreign and unsettling.