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東京結び / Tokyo Knots

We tied the knot. At the Tokyo District Court, of all places — not exactly a chapel draped in sakura, but something about the simplicity, the solemnity, made it more… us.

Yumeko, now my wife — the mother of our future child — looked radiant even in government lighting. She held my hand like it was the only answer in a room full of questions. She told me, “This is still a dream, right?” I nodded, but I knew it was the beginning of something very real.

The Leon family made it, somehow. Even Monet appeared, fashionable as always, treating the courthouse steps like a runway. I appreciated their presence more than I could say. Still, there was a quiet ache for the ones who couldn’t be there. RM, JK, Cecil, and Esme were caught mid-tour — their seats left respectfully empty, their names written on folded paper next to untouched champagne.

Now, the beard.
I’d grown it out over the winter — a silent tribute to my father’s passing, a way to feel older than I was, maybe wiser, definitely heavier. The weight of becoming a husband, and soon a father, pressed into my jawline. I felt ancient at 21.

But Yumeko wanted a photoshoot for her portfolio — and in her words, “Clean Noor looks like he believes in hope.” So I shaved. The result? That’s the image below, A groom, cleaned up and cloaked in silence.

Now I’m torn. Should I grow it back? Let the beard speak for the nights I can’t? Or stay barefaced, pretending I haven’t already aged ten years in six months?
Either way… she still looks at me like I’m worth betting on.
And for now, that’s enough.

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