𝐅𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐘 ; G. SATORU

∞ 1: LAUGHTER

    MICHIKO TURNED IN her bed, groaning in discomfort. 

    The light from the sun that shone through the window from the other side of the room directly hit her across the face, making her eyes squint. The same as always basically, when one woke up from their slumber.

    Just as it was normal for her husband to be gone, the only trace that he had even slept beside her were the folds in the bedsheets.

    Michiko rolled her steel-blue eyes and clicked her tongue in annoyance. It wasn't like she wished he would be there when he woke up, she could barely stand his presence in the evening. It was rather that she found it extremely rude of him that he had never, in the two years they were married, tried to approach her. He expected her to come to him, just like all the other stupid females in the world did.

    Another click of her tongue sounded throughout her bedroom. But deciding that she had dwelled long enough on that insulting excuse of a paintbrush, she shook her head and rised from her spot on the edge of the bed to get ready for the day.

    So after she had finished her buisness in the bathroom, took a good warm and relaxing shower, she came out with a towl wrapped around her slim body, and another, much shorter towel, wraped around her head, consuming all of her golden long hair.

    Today was supposed to be a normal average day, to be honest. And that was something surprising for someone who could see them.

    Someone who could see curses.

    Then again, everyday in Michiko's life was almost always spent the same way. Wake up, take a shower, meet up with her bestie at their favourite cafe, get back home, exchange the most not-upheld conversation with Baka-Satoru, sleep.

    Depressing was perhaps the best word to describe her life.

    And yet when she was rummaging through her clothes in her wardrobe, she found herself humming the tune of 'Love me like you' by the Little Mix, as she decided to wear her favourite beret today, along with a yellow cardigan with flower patterns on her chest, and a red T-shirt underneath it, along with a simple pair of denim pants.

    Checking herself out in the mirror with slightly raised eyebrows, she adjusted her cherry-red beret and disconnected her phone from the charger, heading out of the luxurary house she lived in.

    And even though her life was always controlled by someone, like certain old coward dudes, or her stupid clan, she always found a way to slip past them. You can't learn to drive!, they would say. You need to produce an heir for us! You aren't allowed to meet with your stupid friend, they would say. You're supposed to produce an heir for us.

    Heir, Heir, Heir. That was apperently the only word they knew, the only thing they cared about.

    An heir descending from her and Gojō, the one who would surpass Satoru. Because even these morons were now realising that they wouldn't be in control for much longer.

    They wouldn't get a kid that strong anyways. Or any kid at all for that matter.

    It wasn't like Michiko was defenseless and weak. There was a reason why she was chosen out of all the women in the world to be Gojō's wife. However she hated unnecessary conflicts, stupid ones no less. Besides she wasn't one to listen to anyone but herself.

    And so she got in her car, that she could drive, with the most smug grin known to humanity.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

    Once the young women had arrived, she parked her car, and got out of it slamming the door shut, and looked around the area of the café searching for a certain person, when her eyes caught the swift movement of familiar hair dissappearing into the café in question.