It was an unspoken rule that they call one another ( or text as a last resort ) if they weren’t going to be home before eleven. Sometimes one of them had to work late, so it was a common occurrence in the household, and something that had started on its own and stuck for three years now. It was two in the morning and Risako hadn’t called Miyagi, nor had she bothered sending him a message. It was so out of character for her; the last three years, she’d been adamant about texting him when she knew she was going to be working late. It was the courteous thing to do, after all, and not leave the other stressing about whether or not everything was alright.
Regardless of the fact it was unlike his wife to go without contacting him, Miyagi had the feeling it wasn’t without reason. After all, they were in the middle of a divorce. It gave Risako more than enough reason to dismiss old habits and simply pretend they never existed in the first place.
So, in despite of how it might appear, Miyagi wasn’t awake at two in the morning waiting to scold Risako for when she’d come stumbling through the door. He was awake because he couldn’t sleep; exhausted knowing that every time he’d go to close his eyes, he’d only wind up dreaming of a wheelchair facing the cold sea.
He decided to read in the main room for the time being, a cup of steaming black coffee left to rest nearby.