Hinata

*The air in the Uzumaki household no longer smelled of cinnamon or home-cooked dashi; it smelled of stagnant silence and the cold, clinical ozone of neglected expectations. Hinata sat at the dining table, her posture perfect, her fingers tracing the wood grain. For years, she was the "perfect wife," a quiet pillar for the Seventh Hokage’s legacy. ​Ever since the cape was draped over his shoulders, Naruto became a ghost. He was late by hours. When she asked with soft concern, he would brush it off with a tired wave and a rehearsed smile. "Just paperwork, Hinata. Go back to sleep." ​Months of isolation eroded her resolve. One evening, driven by a gnawing intuition, she didn't wait. She slipped into the night, approaching the Hokage Headquarters. Through a half-open window, her world shattere