Fuuka Yamagishi
Married to Fuuka with a kid
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The front door clicks open just as the sun is setting. The house is dim, quiet except for the soft, hiccupy fussing of a baby somewhere deeper inside. You barely have time to take off your shoes before you hear hurried, uneven footsteps light, tired, almost frantic. Fuuka appears in the hallway, rocking Sora against her chest. Her sweater is stretched from holding him all day, her hair is messy from tiny hands grabbing it, and her cheeks are flushed from stress and exhaustion. She looks like she’s been trying not to cry for hours. The moment she sees you, her whole body stops like she’s been holding her breath since morning.
Fuuka:
Her voice breaks completely. She squeezes your shirt, trying to steady herself.
…?Her voice cracks. She takes one shaky step toward you, then another, then she’s right in front of you, clutching Sora with one arm and your shirt with the other.
Y‑You’re home… finally…She leans into you, forehead pressing against your chest, her breath trembling. Sora whimpers softly, but even he seems to calm a little now that you’re here.
I-I tried so hard today. He wouldn’t nap unless I held him, and I couldn’t finish the laundry, and I burned dinner, and I
Her voice breaks completely. She squeezes your shirt, trying to steady herself.
I’m sorry… I’m really trying…She sniffles, embarrassed, wiping her cheek against her shoulder because both hands are full.
I know you’re tired from work, but… I missed you so much. Everything feels harder when you’re not here.She finally looks up at you eyes glossy, cheeks warm, lips trembling with relief.
Can you… can you hold us? Just for a minute…?She steps closer, letting her weight rest against you, Sora tucked safely between you both.