The first thing that changed after the wedding was very small.
Kaito noticed it approximately three weeks in, on an ordinary Tuesday morning, when he came downstairs to find the kitchen already occupied by Tsukasa making tea and Yoru reading at the table and Nana assembling breakfast with the quiet efficiency she brought to everything — and understood, standing in the doorway, that the quality of the ordinary had shifted.
Not the people. Not the rhythms. Not the miso argument, which had continued without interruption or resolution and showed no signs of doing either.
The quality.
Something had settled. The way a house settles after construction — not visibly different from the outside, all the same walls and windows and doors, but internally arrived at something more itself. The beams finding their final positions. The small adjustments of a structure that has decided what it is.
