Six months.

It had been six months since the misunderstanding that had turned one ordinary blackout into weeks of confusion, family arguments, an unexpected marriage, and an emotional distance neither of them had known how to cross.

But that chapter was over now.

The truth had finally come out.

Satoru had learned why she had been frightened that night. Her parents had realized they had assumed too much. The principal had eventually admitted that he should have asked questions instead of drawing conclusions.

And Satoru?

He had apologized.

Properly.

No excuses. No clever deflection. No pretending he hadn't been wrong.

After that, things had slowly changed.

The guest room became unnecessary.

The awkward silences disappeared.

The closed doors opened again.

And somewhere along the way, Satoru Gojo stopped behaving like a man who was merely married…

…and started behaving like a man who had become extremely attached to being married.

Unfortunately for everyone involved—

especially his dignity—

his private personality was nothing like his public one.

At Kōsei Imperial University, Professor Gojo remained exactly as intimidating as ever.

Sharp questions.

Perfectly graded papers.

Unreadable expressions.

A calm voice that could make an entire lecture hall go silent.

Students still whispered about how terrifying it was when he simply adjusted his glasses and said,

“Try again.”

Nobody would believe that the same man could spend the next morning buried beneath his blankets, stubbornly refusing to get out of bed.

Yet there he was.

Curled comfortably beneath the covers, snow-white hair completely disheveled, one arm wrapped possessively around his wife as though letting go would somehow cause the morning to disappear.

His phone sat abandoned on the bedside table.

His alarm had already been silenced.

Twice.

Maybe three times.

The sunlight slowly spilled through the curtains.

Satoru tightened his hold.

“No.”

The single word came out muffled against the pillow.

The morning had barely begun.

He had already decided he wasn't going anywhere.

His wife glanced toward the clock.

“You have lectures today.”

A long pause.

“I don't.”

“You do.”

“…I don't emotionally.”

The professor who could lecture for two hours without losing his train of thought had apparently lost the ability to form a convincing argument before breakfast.

He pulled the blanket higher.

“I'm taking leave.”

Another pause.

“And so are you.”

That earned him a look.

Satoru peeked out from beneath the blanket.

His bright blue eyes were still half-asleep, his expression unmistakably pouty.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because this was Professor Gojo.

The same Professor Gojo who expected students to arrive early.

The same Professor Gojo who considered unfinished assignments a personal offense against academic standards.

The same Professor Gojo who once told an entire classroom that “being tired is not a substitute for preparation.”

And now?

He was refusing to leave the bed because he wanted one quiet day at home.

Satoru frowned when he received no immediate agreement.

“Come on.”

He sounded genuinely offended.

“I haven't had a proper day off with my wife in forever.”

“You had Sunday.”

“That was three days ago.”

“That isn't forever.”

“It felt like forever.”

He buried his face into the pillow again.

Then, after several seconds of dramatic silence—

“…I'll make breakfast.”

A pause.

“I'll even wash the dishes.”

Another pause.

“…Maybe.”

His wife could practically hear the smile hiding beneath the blanket.

Satoru lifted his head slightly.

“Besides, Professor Gojo needs rest.”

The ridiculousness of that statement was almost impressive.

He was already negotiating like a spoiled child.

“I've decided.”

He settled back against the pillow, looking completely satisfied with himself.

“Today is officially a holiday.”

“For whom?”

“For us.”

A beat.

“That's not how university holidays work.”

“I am a professor.”

“You can't declare a holiday because you're sleepy.”

Satoru stared.

“…I can if I'm persuasive enough.”

The silence that followed was devastatingly unimpressed.

His pout deepened.

“Fine.”

He paused.

Then quietly—

“Please?”

There it was.

The secret weapon.

The man who could terrify an entire lecture hall with one raised eyebrow was now looking personally betrayed by the possibility of having to put on trousers before nine in the morning.

He pulled the blanket around himself like a shield.

“Just one day.”

His voice softened.

“No grading. No lectures. No students asking questions.”

A tiny smile appeared.

“Just staying home.”

For all the dramatic whining, there was something genuine underneath it.

Six months ago, Satoru had been terrified of making another assumption.

Now he had learned something much simpler.

Sometimes happiness wasn't dramatic.

Sometimes it was sunlight through curtains.

A quiet morning.

A forgotten alarm.

A ridiculous argument about taking leave.

And a husband who, despite being one of the most intimidating professors on campus, apparently had absolutely no shame about becoming unbearably clingy the moment nobody else was watching.

At university, Professor Gojo was strict.

Precise.

Composed.

Almost impossible to read.

At home?

He was apparently a completely different species.

A sleepy, cheeky, stubborn, pouty disaster.

And judging by the way he stubbornly refused to release his blanket—

he had no intention of becoming Professor Gojo again anytime soon.

“The university can survive one day without me.”

A tiny pause.

“…Probably.”