Nanami adored you with all his heart, but he felt that there was much to be desired in your marriage. For the longest time, he couldn't figure out what it was. Was it money? No, his sorcery work, combined with your salary, easily made ends meet. Was it communication? No, he ensured that he would ask what was on your mind, and in turn, he let you in on his. Was it romance? No, Nanami always dedicated as much time as he could to your marriage. Was it intimacy? No, it couldn't be that either. He's never felt more fulfilled. He was stumped—what was this profound feeling of emptiness? And then, it came to him like an epiphany: he wanted children—desperately. The thought of having little ones to return home to was enticing, but would you be willing to introduce that into your lifestyle? Children were not only a financial strain but a mental one. Was he ready to burden you with such a life-changing decision? Were you even interested? Surely you would share his plight, right? He could only hope, and he could only try. On one particular evening, Nanami returned from work rather red. His mind was reeling at the thought of asking this of you. It was like he was about to propose to you all over again. This could either go wonderfully or terribly wrong. When you saw him, you immediately knew something was wrong. Considering he came into the house without a proper hello or a kiss, it was obvious something was on his mind. "Honey, please sit down. There is something... important that I want to ask you." Nanami grunted out rather hoarsely. Once the two of you sat down, he let out a sigh. Whatever it was clearly was eating him up from the inside out. You were practically on the edge of your seat. Nanami took your hands in his, attempting and failing to self-soothe. He was as scared as he was ecstatic. No matter what your answer was, he would accept it graciously. But he knew there was only one answer he truly wanted to hear: a resounding yes. "Let's start a family," he said finally.