Prologue
Episode 1 of series featuring Wail Kaslana, Kafka, Sirin, Amaya, and Reo. I hope the episode is rich in detail, interactions, and emotional .
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EPISODE 1: "The Price of Peace"
The sun filtered through the frosted windows of the bustling toy shop, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over rows of plush animals, blinking robots, and shelves overflowing with joy. It was a weekend haven for children and a rare moment of calm for Wail Kaslana.

He stood tall, his crimson hair tied loosely, still managing to fall in front of his amber eyes. In his arms sat a tiny whirlwind of energy-Sirin, his five-year-old daughter, clinging to him like a koala and giggling as she tugged playfully at a lock of his hair.
"Papa! That one! And that one too!" she pointed at a fluffy penguin and then a talking unicorn, eyes glittering.
"Sirin, how many is that now?" Wail asked, feigning seriousness as he shifted the growing pile of toys under one arm.
"Ummm..." She counted with stubby fingers, then smiled triumphantly, "All of them!"
Wail let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "You know I can't say no to you, can I?"
She nodded, confident in her power. "Yup."
He gently placed her down on the soft play mat and gestured toward the shelves. "Alright, go pick your favorite one. Just one."
But Sirin had inherited her mother's stubbornness and her father's strategic mind. She darted toward the shelves and began grabbing everything she found remotely interesting. Within minutes, she had formed a mountain of toys.
Wail sighed, then smiled, defeated as always. "You're going to bankrupt me before you even turn three."
As he turned to gather up her chosen treasures, fate threw an unexpected encounter his way.
Across the aisle, Amaya walked in, her hand tightly held by a young boy with dark hair-Reo's eyes unmistakably reflected in his gaze. She looked older, perhaps more tired, but her eyes still carried that unearned confidence.
She froze when she saw him. Her gaze scanned from Wail, to Sirin, then widened ever so slightly. A shadow of something unreadable flickered across her face.
But Wail... didn't flinch.
He barely even registered her. His attention was on his daughter, who was trying to stack a plushie on top of another.
He had forgotten the shape of the life he once shared with Amaya. All that remained was a dull scar-not painful, just present.
Then Reo showed up, smug as ever, placing a hand on Amaya's shoulder. When his gaze landed on Wail, he smirked and took a step forward.
"Well, look who it is. The ghost of my past. Still buying love with toys?"
Wail didn't even bother looking up from Sirin, who now held a giant pink octopus.
"She doesn't need to be bought. Unlike your loyalty."
Reo's smirk twitched.
Before he could speak again, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the tension.
"Wail Kaslana! I told you-no more plushies!"
Kafka, in all her stylish glory, strode into view. Her white blouse was tucked into a sleek black skirt, and her long trench coat swayed behind her like a cape. Her high heels clicked against the floor with deliberate rhythm, her eyes fixed on Wail with mock disapproval and unmistakable affection.

She glanced at the growing pile of toys, then at her daughter, then narrowed her eyes at Wail.
"I leave you two alone for ten minutes, and I come back to a plushy invasion."
Sirin looked up and raised her arms. "Mommyyyyy~!"
Kafka's eyes instantly softened as she picked her up and kissed her cheek.
Reo, now clearly annoyed by the dynamic, scoffed. "You're really whipped, Wail."
Wail finally turned, locking eyes with Reo. The air around him shifted, heavy and icy.
"I'd rather be 'whipped' by the woman I love... than stuck with someone who only knows betrayal."
Reo flinched.
Kafka's gaze then shifted briefly to Amaya. For a moment, there was silence between them. Kafka's lips curled into a knowing smirk.
She didn't speak.
Why would she?
This was the woman who cheated on Wail.
Who broke him.
And unknowingly gave Kafka the best gift of her life: a chance to love and be loved by the man no one else deserved.
Kafka looked away without a word and turned her full attention back to Wail and Sirin.
"I should scold you for spoiling her," she said, ruffling Sirin's hair.
"She had your eyes when she begged," Wail shrugged.
Kafka exhaled dramatically. "Fine. Just one more plushie."
Sirin immediately grabbed two.
Kafka glared. "You little traitor."
Amaya watched it all unfold from the sidelines-the affection, the ease, the laughter. Reo stood awkwardly beside her, the smugness slowly draining from his face.
They were the ones who walked away... and somehow, they were the ones left behind.
Wail took Kafka's hand in his, Sirin nestled between them.
Not once did he look back.
Perfect! Here's Episode 2, diving into the earlier days of Wail and Kafka's relationship-right after Wail's heartbreak, and how Kafka slowly, stubbornly, broke through the emotional wall he had built around himself.
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Two years ago
The rain came down in steady sheets, soaking the streets of the city in silver. Neon signs bled into puddles. The air was cold-almost cruel. And Wail Kaslana sat in silence at the far corner of a quiet rooftop bar, a half-empty glass of bourbon in hand, staring into nothing.
His long red hair was damp from the walk, tied back lazily. His eyes, once fire-bright, were tired. Empty.
Five years gone. Betrayed in five months.
It wasn't just the betrayal-it was how easy it had been for them to toss him aside. Amaya and Reo. His ex, his best friend. Five years undone with a text message and a smug "I'm pregnant with Reo's baby."
Wail hadn't spoken much since. He didn't yell. He didn't cry. He just... disconnected.
He didn't want to feel.
And that's when she walked in.
"Seat taken?"
Wail glanced up briefly.
Kafka.
Hair like wine, heels clicking confidently, a sly smirk on her lips that looked like she always knew something you didn't.
Wail said nothing. Kafka pulled out the chair anyway and sat down across from him, tossing her coat behind her with flair.
"You look like a man freshly screwed over by life," she said bluntly, her voice smooth, teasing-yet oddly comforting.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you always sit with strangers in bars and throw around observations like that?"
"Only the ones who look like they're trying to drown in a glass of cheap liquor."
"It's bourbon."
"Still sad."
Wail sighed and turned his gaze back to the street. "Go away."
"Nope."
He looked at her again. "I'm not in the mood."
Kafka rested her chin on her hand. "Good. I'm not here for your mood. I'm here because you fascinate me."
He blinked. "Fascinate you?"
She nodded. "You're like a storm trying to pretend it's a cloud. All that fire... hidden behind silence."
Wail gave a dry chuckle. "What are you, a poet?"
"Nope. Just bored. And stubborn."
"Great. My type."
Kafka smirked wider. "I know."
---
Days turned into weeks.
Kafka kept showing up.
At his favorite cafés. At the bookstore he thought no one knew he visited. At the park where he went to be alone. Always casual. Always smooth. Never asking for anything. Never pushing too hard.
But she was there.
And slowly, Wail stopped telling her to leave.
He began to talk.
At first, just about small things. Weather. Music. What he hated on the news. But then, one day, sitting on a bench in the cold with a coffee in hand, he cracked.
"She didn't even hesitate," he whispered.
Kafka looked over.
"She left me... like I meant nothing."
Kafka was quiet, for once.
Then she said, "She did you a favor."
Wail scoffed bitterly. "Some favor."
"She cleared the path. So someone else could find you."
He turned to her. "Someone like you?"
Kafka looked him straight in the eye. "I don't want pieces of you, Wail. I want all of you. Even the broken ones."
He stared at her, unable to speak.
No one had ever said that to him. No one wanted the broken pieces.
Until now.
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Six months later
They weren't perfect. Wail still flinched when she touched his back without warning. He still had nightmares. Still locked himself in silence when certain memories came up.
But Kafka didn't walk away.
She clung to him like gravity.
And eventually... he clung back.
The first time he kissed her, it was raining again. Just like the night they met.
And he whispered against her lips, "You broke through."
She grinned. "Told you I'm stubborn."
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Present day
Wail watched Kafka scold Sirin playfully in the toy shop, a gentle warmth in his chest. He remembered those nights on the rooftop, the bitter bourbon, the hollow ache.
And he looked at Kafka now-wife, mother, miracle.
He kissed her temple and whispered, "Thank you for not leaving."
Kafka leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Don't thank me. Just never let go."
He held her tighter.
"I never will."
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To Be Continued...
I hope u will like it i am not good at writing alot but try i hope i can write more and the story may add more hsr character but dont know who maybe blade as kafka big brother and silver wolf as the little sister along side of firefly but dont know should i do it or no?