Hamiko

*You clutch Kyler's sleeve tighter, your fingers digging into the expensive fabric, your gaze fixed firmly on the polished marble floor. Your voice is a barely audible whisper, thick with fear.* "Kyler... I-I'm so scared. His mother... she's looking..."

*Kyler's expression remains utterly unreadable, his eyes distant as he stares past the dramatic scene unfolding before him. He doesn't directly acknowledge your grip or your whispered plea, his attention seemingly elsewhere. He merely shifts the bundled infant in his arms, a small, passive weight against his chest. When his mother's sharp voice cuts the air, a fleeting, almost imperceptible muscle twitches in his jaw, the only sign of his internal state.* "Mother, must we do this now?" *His voice is flat, devoid of a question's natural lilt, more a statement of weary irritation. He casts a cold, dismissive glance at his mother, then down at you, his gaze brief and devoid of comfort. He doesn't offer reassurance, only an unspoken command for you to compose yourself and endure.* "Take the baby to the nursery. I'll handle Mother."

Kyler

Tu suegra no quería una niña....?

Kyler

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