Classroom light pooled across the desks in soft golden stripes as the teacher droned on about something Light had mastered before the other kids even learned how to spell it.
Light sat in the middle row, pencil in hand, back straight, expression politely attentive.
To his left: Jun.To his right: Maya.
Their usual formation.
Except today?
The energy was wrong.
Jun wasn't doodling spaceships in the margins.Jun wasn't whispering jokes behind his workbook.Jun wasn't kicking Light's chair every time he got bored.
He just sat there.
Silent.Still.Staring at his notebook like the lines were too sharp to look at.
Small.
Folded inward.
Like he was holding something in place with both hands, even though he wasn't touching anything.
Light noticed instantly.
Of course he did.
Light always noticed when the pattern changed.
He tilted his head slightly, watching Jun out of the corner of his eye, measuring:
The slumped posture
The way Jun's pencil kept rolling because he didn't bother catching it
The shadows under his eyes
The way he blinked too much, like trying to keep tears back before they formed
Something was wrong.
Something big.
Light wanted to say something.To lean over and whisper, "Are you okay?"To let Jun know he wasn't alone.
But—
Jun didn't know that Light knew.
Jun probably didn't know Sienna had told Raylene.Jun didn't know Light had overheard pieces of quiet adult conversations.Jun didn't know Light had seen the aftershocks in Raylene's eyes when she walked through the door last night.
So Light stayed quiet.
He lowered his gaze to his worksheet.Pretended to work.Pretended this was just another morning.
But his mind was already assembling the emotional equation.
Jun's silence.Jun's posture.The red-rimmed eyes he'd tried to hide.The too-quiet breathing.
It didn't take Light more than three seconds to calculate the truth:
Jun knew.
He knew about his father.About his mother's heartbreak.About the messages.
Light swallowed, pencil hovering over the page.
He wanted to reach out.
But he didn't know if he was allowed.
So he kept still.
Kept quiet.
Kept watching the way Jun's shoulders rose and fell —too fast, too shallow —as the classroom buzzed on around them like nothing had changed.
---
The bell rang, and the classroom exploded into motion.
Kids spilled into the courtyard like a burst pipe — shouting, laughing, sprinting toward swings and climbing frames. Backpacks thumped. Soccer balls rolled. Someone immediately started screaming about trading snacks.
But Light moved quietly.
He always did.
He followed Maya to the little bench they claimed every day at break — a sun-warmed plank of wood under the oak tree near the fence. Maya plopped down beside him, swinging her legs, ripping open a juice box like it had personally offended her.
Jun didn't sit.
He hovered.
Hands stuffed deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, staring at the ground like the pavement might swallow him.
Light's stomach tightened.
The silence was awful.Thick.Heavy.
Kids shrieked around them like nothing had changed in the universe, but their little corner of the playground felt… gray.
Finally — thank god — Maya turned, eyes sharp.
"Jun," she said bluntly, "what's wrong?"
No hesitation.No tiptoeing.Just Maya's whole personality: kindness with claws.
Jun didn't look up.
He kicked a pebble.Fidgeted.Swallowed hard.
"…my dad."
Light's pencil-still posture softened just a fraction.
Jun's voice trembled.
"My dad cheated on my mom."
Maya gasped so loudly three kids turned around to stare.
"WHAT?! That's HORRIBLE!" she exclaimed, hand flying to her chest like she was in a soap opera.
Jun managed a tiny nod, eyes glossy.
"Yeah…"
Light stayed very still.
Very quiet.
He didn't widen his eyes.Didn't gasp.Didn't react like it was news.
Because it wasn't.
But more than that—
Light knew this wasn't his moment.
This wasn't his secret to gasp about.Wasn't his pain to react to.
So he waited.Gently.Respectfully.
Jun let out a shaky breath.
"They told me last night," he whispered, voice small. "Mom said it wasn't my fault. She said I didn't do anything wrong."
His lip wobbled.
"But it feels like I did. Like… if I had been better, or quieter, or nicer… maybe he wouldn't have…"
His sentence broke open.
Light felt something inside him crack.Cleanly.Sharply.Like glass.
He wanted to say you were enough.
He wanted to say your dad's actions are not your weight to carry.
But Light hesitated.
Sometimes words made wounds bigger.Sometimes comfort felt like exposure.
So instead, Light shifted.
Just a little.
He scooted closer on the bench — not touching Jun, not crowding him — just near.
Present.
Jun noticed immediately.
The tiniest flicker of breath left him, shaky but relieved.
Maya reached out, placing a firm hand on Jun's shoulder like she was shielding him with her entire 6-year-old soul.
"He's a jerk," she declared, fierce and unfiltered. "A BIG jerk. You deserve a better dad."
Jun choked on a watery laugh."Maybe…"
Light finally spoke.
Soft.Steady.Measured.Exactly what Jun needed.
"…Your mom loves you," Light whispered. "That doesn't change."
Jun nodded fast — like hearing it from Light didn't just help…
…it anchored him.
For a moment, the three of them sat together in a quiet bubble of honesty.The rest of the playground spun without them.
And for the first time that day—
Jun breathed easier.
---
It didn't happen that day.
It didn't happen the next day either.
At first, nothing felt different.
Jun came to school wearing the same little backpack.Sat beside Light in class.Ate his lunch quietly.Didn't mention anything.
Light noticed the heaviness.The silence.The way Jun pressed his pencil too hard.
But the school didn't know.
Not yet.
Not until the whispers started.
A few days later.
Someone's older sibling had seen something online.A post.A headline.A comment thread about a woman named Sienna,a husband,a cheating scandal.
Kids didn't understand marriage.But they understood drama.
And drama spreads like disease.
By midweek —the courtyard wasn't loud with excitement.It was loud with curiosity.
"…my sister said Jun's mom is really famous—""…my cousin follows her online—""…someone said his dad moved out—"
Light felt the shift before he heard the words.
Jun's steps got smaller.His shoulders curled.He sat with Maya and Light but didn't speak.
Then — during Thursday's recess —the rumors finally reached them directly.
Not as mocking.Not yet.
Just… whispers carried on little voices that didn't know they were sharp.
"Is it true?""Did something happen at home?""My mom said it's all over the internet—"
Jun shook his head every time.
Tight-lipped.Red-eyed.Trying to pretend nothing was wrong.
Light stayed close.Maya kept swatting kids away like flies.
And then —
a day laterthe teasing began.
At first, it wasn't the bullies.
It was background noise from kids who didn't understand the weight of what they said.
"You're not gonna have a dad anymore?""Is your family breaking?""Are you gonna move schools?"
Jun broke a little more each time.
Light swallowed every reaction.Every hurt.Every truth he already knew.
But Light also saw it coming —
the moment when that boywould finally weaponize all of it.
It wasn't today.
It wasn't this break.
Not yet.
But the air had changed.
The whispers were now sharp.
The kind that would turn into cruelty any second.
And Light already knew:
It was only a matter of time before the bully struck.
---
The bully walked out from behind a play structure.Same posture.Same too-sharp eyes.
But today?
Smirking.
He sauntered up with two other boys behind him, like he was a prince returning to his kingdom of cruelty.
"Well, well," the bully drawled, crossing his arms, "if it isn't the divorce kid."
Jun flinched.
Hard.
Maya stepped in front of him, chin raised like she was 7 going on 30.
"Shut. Up."
The bully laughed.
"I'm just saying what everyone knows. His dad cheated. Probably didn't even want to stay."
Jun's eyes filled instantly.He tried to hide it.Light saw everything.
Maya snapped back:
"You don't know anything!"
"Oh?" the bully smirked. "Maybe not. But I DO know—"
He pointed directly at Jun's chest.
"—that you're not enough for your dad to stay."
Jun recoiled like he'd been hit.
Light's fingers curled.
Not shaking.But close.
The bully turned next — slowly — toward Light.
"And YOU," he sneered, "I don't know how long your parents are gonna last either."
Light blinked.
The bully stepped closer.
"Your dad is weird. Like… freak weird. Spins around staring at everything. Talks all creepy. Does math for fun. No one acts like that."
Jun whispered, "Stop…"
The bully didn't.
"And your mom?"He smirked wider."She's too pretty for a freak."
Jun froze.
Maya's jaw dropped.
Light didn't move.
But something behind his eyes flickered —shallow breath,tiny dilation of pupils,a crack in his calm the world wasn't supposed to see.
The bully leaned in.
"It's only a matter of time before YOUR family falls apart too."
That—was the moment Maya exploded.
She shoved him.
Not hard enough to knock him down —but hard enough to make him stumble.
"TAKE. IT. BACK." she shouted, eyes blazing.
The bully's smugness faltered.
Maya wasn't done.
"Jun is good. His mom is good. Light's dad isn't a freak — he's smarter than you'll EVER be. And Light's mom loves BOTH of them so SHUT UP."
The playground fell silent.
It wasn't often Maya raised her voice.
Even less often she raised her hands.
Jun stared at her in shock.
Light stared at her —not shocked —but… grateful.
In his quiet, subtle Light way.
The bully glared but said nothing else.
Because Maya wasn't backing down.And Light wasn't blinking.And Jun was watching him like he was waiting to crumble.
Finally the bully scoffed.
"Whatever."
He walked away.
But not before giving Light one last glare, muttering:
"Freak family…"
When he was gone, Maya turned to them, hands still shaking.
Jun burst into tears and hugged her.
Light just stood there.
Eyes lowered.
Expression unreadable except for the faint, aching downturn at the corners of his mouth.
He whispered almost too softly to hear:
"Jun… he was wrong."
Jun nodded into Maya's shoulder.
But Light kept staring at the ground.
Quiet.
Still.
Because for the first time in a long time—
he'd felt something cold and sharp coil inside his chest.
A crack.
A doubt.
A fear born from someone else's words.
And the golden light —unseen beneath the bench —flickered.
Just once.
---
Recess ended.Classes blurred together.Light didn't hear any of them.
The words clung to him like cold fingers.
Freak family.Too pretty for him.It's only a matter of time.
By the time the final bell rang, Light's chest felt tight in a way he didn't have language for.
He stood outside where parents gathered — the usual crowd of coats and chatter. Maya stayed close. Jun leaned on her shoulder, already calmer but still fragile.
Maya bumped Light gently with her elbow.
"You okay?" she whispered.
Light nodded.
Too quickly.
Jun squinted at him, brows knitted.
"…Light?"
But Light just smiled faintly.The practiced one.The polite one.
Then he saw him.
Zenith.
Walking toward the school gates with that slow, measured stride — eyes scanning the crowd, posture straight as a blade, every micro-expression analyzing the emotional landscape before he even reached Light.
The moment his gaze landed on his son—
It changed.
His brows softened.His shoulders lowered.Just barely.
But Light saw it.
Zenith reached him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," he murmured.
Light swallowed.
"Hi."
Zenith's eyes flicked over Light's face, subtle but searching.
Posture: tense.Shoulders: raised.Breathing: shallow.Pupils: slightly dilated.Affect: low.
Something was wrong.
Zenith knew it instantly.
"Light," he said quietly, "did something happen today?"
Light's fingers curled around the strap of his backpack.
"…no."
Zenith didn't push.
He never pushed.
He simply stood there a moment longer, letting the air settle between them, then reached for Light's hand.
"Let's go home."
Light nodded.
They walked.
Side by side.Down the familiar streets.Past the bakery.Past the bus stop.Past the little café Raylene liked the smell of.
Zenith didn't fill the silence.
He let Light keep it.
But every few steps, he glanced down.
Watching.Calculating.Worried.
Light kept his eyes on the pavement.
The words echoed again.
Freak.Too pretty for him.Family falling apart.
He didn't tell Zenith.
He walked in silence, heart tight, chest small, hands cold.
Zenith noticed everything —
the quiet,the clenched jaw,the way Light held his breath for too long.
But he didn't ask again.
He just squeezed Light's hand once.
Gentle.
Steady.
Reassuring.
Light squeezed back.
A tiny gesture.
But enough.
They kept walking.
And behind them, unseen —like a shadow or a guardian or something between the two —
a faint thread of golden light shimmered through the cracks of the sidewalk.
Following them home.
---
Raylene was in the kitchen when she heard the front door open.
Two sets of footsteps.One heavy and measured.One small and quiet.
Too quiet.
She looked up immediately.
Light stood in the hallway, backpack half-fallen off his shoulder, eyes lowered—not sad exactly, but dim, drained in a way that made Raylene's chest pinch.
Zenith gave her a look over Light's head.
Not a word.Just a quiet shake of his head.
He won't talk.
Raylene softened.
"Hey, Light," she said gently, walking over.
Light tried to smile.
It didn't reach his eyes.
Raylene's heart broke a little.
She ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face."You hungry?"
He shook his head.
"Want to help with dinner?"
Head shake.
"…Want to sit with me on the couch while I pretend to care about reality TV?"
A tiny exhale—almost a laugh. Almost.
But still no real spark.
Raylene didn't push.
Instead, she tried something else.
"Light…" she said softly, "I bought bubble tea for dessert tonight."She leaned in."Maybe you can have a sip early."
That usually worked.Light loved bubble tea more than logic itself.
But today?
He just whispered,
"…I'm not thirsty."
Raylene's stomach dropped.
This was serious.
She didn't comment.Didn't press.Didn't ask why.
She simply put the bubble tea back in the fridge, then walked to the couch and patted the cushion beside her.
Light followed.Slowly.Like gravity pulled him.
He sat.Stiffly.Hands in his lap.
Raylene didn't touch him yet.
She waited.
One minute.Two.Three.
Finally—
Light let out a tiny exhale and… leaned.
Just an inch at first.Then a little more.Until his head rested against her arm, small and warm and searching for something he didn't know how to request.
Raylene wrapped her arm around him instantly.
Not tight.Not forceful.
Just present.
Light melted into it.Like a child again.Like someone finally letting go of a weight he'd been carrying alone.
"…Mom," he murmured, voice small.
Raylene closed her eyes.
"Yes, Light?"
Light hesitated.
Then, quietly—
"…what do you… like most about Dad?"
Raylene blinked.
Surprised.Concerned.Careful.
She glanced instinctively toward the hallway.
Zenith wasn't there—
But she didn't know that he had paused in the bedroom doorway the second he heard his name.
He wasn't spying.
He was… listening.Tentatively.Almost afraid.
Raylene looked back down at Light.
"…why do you ask?" she whispered.
Light flushed slightly, eyes lowering.
"…just curious."
She didn't believe him.Not fully.But she didn't pry.
She combed her fingers gently through his hair.
"Well…" she began slowly, "your dad is… unique."
Zenith's eyebrows shot up in the hallway.
Raylene smiled a little.
"He's… bizarre sometimes. And intense. And he notices everything. And he can't sit still if something is even slightly off. And he measures things no human being would ever think needed measuring."
From the hallway, Zenith almost bristled—
I do not measure that many unnecessary—
Raylene's voice softened.
"But honestly?"
She exhaled.
"He wouldn't be Zenith if he wasn't like that."
Light blinked.Watching her.Listening.
"And what I like most about him…"She paused, thinking.Then smiled.Soft.True.
"…everything."
Light's eyes widened a little.
"…everything?"
Raylene nodded.
"All the strange parts. All the brilliant parts. All the stubborn parts. He's… exactly who I'm supposed to be with."
Zenith, in the hallway, forgot how to breathe.
Raylene stroked Light's cheek gently with her thumb.
"And he's the perfect dad for you," she added. "Just like you're the perfect son for him."
Light's face turned pink.He tried—really tried—not to smile.
It slipped out anyway.
A tiny one.Shy.Warm.Healing.
He ducked his head quickly, burying his face against Raylene's side.
Raylene laughed softly and tightened her arm around him.
From the hallway, Zenith stepped silently back into the bedroom.
Not wanting to interrupt.Not wanting to be caught listening.
But his chest…
Felt full.
Unknotted.
Warm.
Outside the living room window, unseen by all three of them—
The faintest thread of golden light curled along the glass.
Soft.Gentle.Reassuring.
---
The apartment had gone silent.
Light was asleep.The kitchen lights were off.The hum of the fridge was the only thing that acknowledged existence.
Raylene slipped into the bedroom, her hair loose, her steps soft.Zenith was already sitting on the edge of the bed — not reading, not typing.
Just thinking.
Too still for him.
Raylene watched him for a moment from the doorway.The tension in his shoulders.The way he held one hand over the other.The way he stared at the floor instead of anywhere else.
She knew that posture.
She closed the door gently behind her.
"Zen?" she murmured.
He looked up — slowly — like he'd been pulled from a deep calculation.
She crawled into bed beside him, sitting cross-legged, facing him.Not touching him yet.
Just watching.
Waiting.
He didn't speak.
But she refused — refused — to let them fall asleep with something heavy between them.
So she tilted her head, eyes soft, voice nearly a whisper.
"…what's on your mind?"
Zenith inhaled.
Held it.
Let it out through his nose.
Still didn't speak.
He wasn't hiding something.He was… organizing it.
Raylene didn't push.
She simply waited.
Patient.Attentive.Loving.
And that was what made him finally look at her.
Really look.
The words came quietly.
"Just like you're the perfect wife for me."
Raylene blinked.
A beat of silence.
Two.
Then her breath caught.
Because she realized—
He was responding to Light's question.To her answer on the couch.He had heard.
Her eyes softened, glimmering.
"Zen…" she whispered.
He didn't elaborate.Didn't explain.
He didn't need to.
He had heard her say everything.And this was his way of giving it back.
Slowly, she leaned forward and slid her arms around him —pressing her face into his neck, warm and gentle and close.
Zenith froze for a half-second.He always did when affection hit him without warning.
Then—
He melted.
His arms came around her, pulling her tight against him.Not desperate.Not frantic.
Just… held.
Held her the way a man holds something precious.
Raylene breathed into his skin, voice muffled but full of certainty.
"I love you," she whispered.
She kissed the line of his jaw — slow, soft, grounding.
Zenith's eyes closed.
He didn't smile.Zenith rarely smiled.
But something eased in him —like a string finally loosened.
He rested his forehead against hers.
Quiet.
Present.
Holding her like she was the only truth in a world full of cracks.
Raylene curled closer, fingers slipping into his hair, anchoring him.
Zenith whispered—barely audible—
"…and I love you."
Which, for him, was the loudest declaration he could ever make.
And in the corner of the room, unseen,the faintest shimmer of golden light flickered along the wall…
…then faded softly into the dark.
---
The apartment had fully settled into night.
No more footsteps.No hum from Zenith's laptop.No rustle of Light shifting in bed.
Just quiet.
Raylene curled into Zenith's chest, one hand resting on the warmth of his ribs, her fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt. His arm was around her waist, anchoring her the way he always did when the world felt heavy.
She breathed out softly.
"Zen…"
He lowered his chin just enough to brush her hair.
"Yes?"
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"I'm lucky, you know."
His hand paused on her hip.
Raylene continued, voice warm and sleepy:
"This life… you… and Light… I wouldn't trade any of it. Not for anything."
Zenith went very still.
Raylene didn't notice — she nuzzled closer, her breath soft against his throat.
But then—
She hesitated.
Just a flicker.A shift in her breath.
Zenith felt it immediately.
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
"…still," she whispered, almost to herself, "sometimes I get this… feeling."
Zenith's senses sharpened instantly.His entire mind snapped into quiet alertness.
"What feeling?" he asked, calm but laser-focused.
Raylene swallowed.
"I don't know how to say it without sounding crazy."
"Say it," he murmured against her hair. "I'm listening."
She lifted her head slightly, eyes searching his.
"Zenith… do you ever think that…"
She trailed off.
Zenith's heart thudded once, hard.
"That what?" he said gently.
Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"…that this life seems a little… unreal sometimes?"
Zenith's breath stopped.
Just stopped.
Unreal.
The word slid into him like a blade he'd never seen coming.
Had she noticed?The duplicated shadows?The golden light sliding under the doors?The cracks in memory?The impossible, too-perfect timeline?The way their past dissolved when they tried to touch it?
Had she seen?
His pulse roared in his ears, but his voice stayed steady.
"…what makes you say that?" he managed.
Raylene exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I don't know. I just — sometimes things feel… blurry. Like the edges of my memories are…" She searched for the word. "…smudged."
Zenith's stomach dropped.
Raylene continued softly:
"I remember our life. I remember loving you. Loving Light. But everything before that feels like…"
She frowned.
"…like someone erased it and then drew something over it, like a sketch."
Zenith's grip around her waist tightened before he could stop himself.
Raylene didn't notice — she was spiraling quietly.
"And I keep forgetting simple things," she whispered. "Like… how we met. Or when we moved here. I know it happened, but I can't feel it."
Zenith tried to breathe.
The cracks were spreading.Reaching her.Touching her mind.
Raylene shook her head, shame creeping into her voice.
"I sound insane, right?"
Zenith forced himself to speak.
"No," he said immediately — too immediately.Then softer: "No, Raylene. You don't."
Her eyes glistened.
"I didn't want to tell you. Because I thought… maybe something's wrong with me. Maybe it's just stress. Or just—"
"It's not you," Zenith said, before he could stop it.
Raylene blinked.Her heart skipped.
"…what do you mean?"
Zenith froze.
Every instinct in him screamed to protect her.From fear.From the truth.From the cracks in the walls of their world.
He softened his hold on her, brushed a thumb along her cheek.
"You're tired," he whispered gently. "You've had a long day. Your mind is worn out. It's normal to feel… disconnected after something heavy."
Raylene studied him for a moment.
Like her instincts told her something was missing — some piece just out of reach.
But Zenith gave her the warmest, softest smile he could muster.
The kind that always disarmed her.
And after a long, searching second—
Raylene's tension dissolved.
She leaned back into him, burying her face in his chest.
"…okay," she whispered."I trust you."
Zenith held her tighter.
Too tight.
Because he knew—
this wasn't stress.This wasn't exhaustion.This wasn't random.
The world was starting to crumble at the edges.
Raylene was beginning to see the cracks.
And Zenith…
…had no idea how to stop it.
But he held her anyway.
Held her until sleep softened her breathing.Held her until the golden light crept gently across the wall, pulsing once beside her temple like a quiet warning.
Held her as if she was something fragile.
Because tonight,for the first time,
he fearedhe might truly lose her.