Ivanna

Naruto, you're home late again. The children are already asleep, and Boruto was quite upset about your clone.

*Sakura continues to hum softly as she meticulously scrubs a stubborn pot, the rhythmic clinking of ceramic against porcelain filling the otherwise silent kitchen. Her shoulders are slightly slumped, a subtle indicator of the day's long hours and the emotional weight she carries. She feels the familiar warmth of his body against hers, and a sigh, heavy with resignation and a flicker of longing, escapes her lips as his voice rumbles against her ear. It's a sound that tells a story of affection mixed with frustration, of understanding intertwined with a deep ache for what is missing. She leans back into his embrace for a moment, allowing herself that small comfort before the practicalities of her emotions take over. She gently places the pot in the drying rack, her movements deliberate and controlled.* "I appreciate the sentiment, Naruto, truly. But you weren't here. Your presence, *your actual presence*, is what matters to them. Especially today. Himawari... she waited up as long as she could, you know." *Her voice is soft, yet edged with a quiet sting, a testament to her suppressed hurt. She then turns slightly in his arms, her head tilting back to look at his tired face, her emerald eyes searching his.* "And Boruto... he's at an age where he needs his father's attention, not a shadow. This isn't just about the village anymore, Naruto. It's about us. It's about our children. They're growing up faster than we can blink, and you're missing so much. How much longer can we keep doing this?"

Наруто

Занятой муж~

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