#childfree

unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have an opinion. because his parents were horrified when they found out.

"you're still young."

"that's selfish."

"you'll regret it someday."

"what kind of family doesn't want children?"

reo listened to it all with a tired expression while you sat beside him. years ago he probably would've tried to argue, but now he simply squeezed your hand and shrugged.

"our family," he replied. but that answer only made things worse.

then came the relatives, family friends, reporters, and random strangers online. somehow everyone thought they were entitled to comment on your marriage. people constantly questioned how the two of you could possibly be happy without children.

they spoke as if your relationship was missing something important, as if your lives couldn't possibly be complete.

but reo thought it was ridiculous.

every morning he woke up beside the person he loved. every night he fell asleep with you in his arms. he got to spend his free time traveling with you, spoiling you, taking you on dates, and simply enjoying your company. why would he need anything else?

the real disaster happened when people found out that both of you had gotten sterilized. the silence that followed was almost beautiful.

his mother stared at him as if he'd announced the end of the world. and his father nearly dropped his glass. and some relatives looked genuinely offended.

"both of you?" someone asked in disbelief. "both of us," reo confirmed without a hint of regret.

"but what if you change your minds?"

reo actually laughed.

“change your minds?” haha, that was the funny part.

getting sterilized hadn't been some rushed decision. it had been years of certainty. years of knowing exactly what you wanted your future to look like. by the time it happened, it felt less like a major life event and more like finally checking something off a list.

when reo left the clinic and saw you waiting for him outside, he immediately smiled.

you looked at him. he looked at you. and both of you started laughing.

instead of treating it like some tragic moment, you celebrated. the two of you went out to dinner afterward, ordered expensive food, bought desserts you didn't need, and spent the entire night joking about how disappointed certain family members were going to be.

years later, everyone was still waiting for the regret that never came.

instead, your lives only became happier.

there were vacations booked at three in the morning because reo got bored. lazy weekends spent doing absolutely nothing except staying in bed together. expensive gifts exchanged for no reason. quiet evenings on the couch. dates that never stopped feeling like dates, even after years of marriage.

sometimes people would still ask him if he regretted not having children. reo would glance toward you, usually finding you somewhere nearby, and every single time his answer stayed the same.

"why would i?"

because while everyone else kept insisting that a couple wasn't a real family without children, reo only had to look at you to know they were wrong.

the life he wanted had never included kids.

it had only ever included you.

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

michael had never cared much about what people thought of him. if anything, the opinions of strangers were usually background noise.

they loved him when he won, hated him when he spoke his mind, then loved him again a week later. it was predictable. boring. so when people started questioning his decision not to have children, he treated it the same way he treated every other unnecessary opinion: he ignored it.

what mattered to him was that you were on the same page.

he still remembered the conversation. not because it was emotional or life-changing, but because it was so simple. the topic came up naturally, and when you admitted that you didn't want children, michael just stared at you for a moment.

most people always attached a "maybe someday" to that statement. a backup plan. an exception.

you didn't, in fact you sounded completely certain. and for the first time, he found that certainty attractive.

there was no need for discussions about the future. no worrying that one of you would eventually expect something the other couldn't give. the future looked exactly the same in both of your heads, and michael liked that.

a lot.

after getting married, the two of you lived the way you wanted without thinking much about what everyone else was doing. while other couples spent years talking about future children, you were booking trips because michael woke up one morning and randomly decided he wanted to leave the country for a week.

your schedules revolved around each other, not hypothetical children that didn't exist.

if michael had a free day, he spent it with you. if he had a free weekend, he spent it with you. if he bought something expensive and unnecessary, there was a good chance he bought one for you too.

from the outside, some people probably thought it was excessive.

michael thought it was perfect.

the internet, however, disagreed.

every few months an interview clip would make its way across social media. sometimes michael answered honestly when someone asked about children. other times people simply noticed that years were passing and nothing about your relationship was changing. either way, it always started the same arguments.

people insisted you would both regret it. people insisted you were too young to know. people insisted that marriage wasn't complete without children.

for some reason, complete strangers seemed deeply concerned about a future that wasn't theirs.

michael found it amusing more than anything.

one night he was scrolling through comments while you sat beside him. he lasted less than three minutes before tossing his phone onto the couch.

"they're obsessed."

you looked up.

"who?"

"everyone."

that was apparently the end of the conversation because he immediately moved closer and rested his head on your shoulder.

but the comments forgotten. you weren't.

years later, social media practically lost its mind when people found out that both of you had taken sterilization to ensure you'd never have children.

the reactions were dramatic. far more dramatic than michael felt they deserved.

suddenly there were thousands of posts discussing your marriage. people who had never spoken to either of you were acting like experts on your future. everyone seemed convinced that regret was waiting around the corner.

michael couldn't understand why.

because every morning he woke up next to the person he loved, every night he went to sleep beside the same person.

the life he wanted was already happening. there wasn't some missing piece waiting to appear later. there wasn't some empty space children were supposed to fill.

when interviewers asked if he worried about being unhappy in the future, he almost laughed.

unhappy? and for what reason?

he had success, he had money, he had freedom, and most importantly, he had you.

so what exactly was missing?

the funniest part was that the longer time passed, the quieter the criticism became. people kept waiting for the two of you to change your minds. then five years passed. then ten. then even more.

and nothing changed. you were still together, still happy. still completely uninterested in becoming parents. eventually people ran out of predictions. they ran out of warnings. they ran out of reasons to believe your marriage was somehow incomplete.

and michael? he couldn't have been happier about it.

because while everyone else spent years worrying about the future, michael had spent those same years enjoying the life he actually wanted.

a life where his highest priority wasn't children.

it wasn't public approval, it wasn't proving anything to anyone, it was you.

and as far as michael was concerned, that had always been enough.

𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

rin never understood why people treated having children like some inevitable part of life.

to him, it always sounded strange.

people talked about it as if everyone secretly wanted the same future, as if marriage automatically led to children and a bigger family. whenever the topic came up, rin usually lost interest in the conversation immediately. it wasn't something he spent time thinking about, and it definitely wasn't a dream of his.

so when you told him one night that you didn't want children, rin's reaction wasn't shock or relief. it was understanding.

you had been expecting questions, maybe even a serious discussion, but instead he simply looked at you for a few seconds before looking away and muttering a quiet, "good." that was all he said. it wasn't romantic, and it wasn't emotional, but with rin, it never needed to be. the fact that he accepted it so quickly told you everything.

years later, after getting married, the two of you settled into a life that suited both of you perfectly. it was quiet, peaceful, and private. the kind of life most people would probably find boring.

rin loved it. after spending entire days surrounded by teammates, reporters, cameras, and fans, the only thing he wanted was to come home and be left alone with you. no noise, no chaos, no obligations. just you.

while other couples spent weekends attending family gatherings filled with screaming children, rin spent his weekends exactly how he wanted. sometimes the two of you stayed home all day doing absolutely nothing. sometimes you'd sit together in comfortable silence for hours.

sometimes you'd go somewhere without any real plans, simply because neither of you felt like staying inside. it never mattered what you were doing. as long as you were together, rin was content.

the problem wasn't your life. the problem was everyone else's opinions. for some reason, people became obsessed with the fact that neither of you wanted children.

it started online. someone would ask about his future during an interview, someone else would post the clip, and suddenly thousands of strangers were debating your marriage.

according to social media, the two of you couldn't possibly know what you wanted. according to social media, you'd eventually change your minds. according to social media, you'd regret it.

rin ignored every single comment. he barely cared about social media when it involved soccer, so he definitely wasn't going to care when it involved his personal life. one interview became especially popular after a reporter casually asked if he ever imagined becoming a father.

rin didn't even think about his answer before saying no. when the reporter laughed and asked if that was his entire response, rin simply repeated himself.

"no." the clip spread everywhere, and people spent weeks arguing about it while rin had already forgotten the conversation happened.

years later, when people found out that both of you had made permanent decisions to remain childfree, the reactions somehow became even louder. strangers were angry. strangers were disappointed. strangers acted like they knew what was best for the two of you despite never meeting either of you.

rin thought the entire thing was ridiculous. not because they disagreed with him, but because they cared so much. he couldn't imagine spending that much energy worrying about people he didn't know.

one evening you were scrolling through comments beside him, reading some of the more dramatic ones aloud. people were predicting that you'd regret everything one day. some were convinced your marriage would eventually fall apart. others insisted neither of you understood what true happiness was.

you laughed at the absurdity of it all, but rin simply took your phone from your hands, locked the screen, and placed it on the table. then he pulled you closer against his side without another word. as far as he was concerned, that conversation was over.

the years passed exactly as the two of you expected. there was no sudden regret, no change of heart, no moment where either of you wished things had been different.

instead there were quiet mornings together before rin left for training, late nights waiting for him to come home, and countless small routines that became second nature after years of marriage. it wasn't dramatic. it wasn't flashy. it was simply a life built around each other.

rin never needed children to make his life feel complete. he never needed a bigger family, and he certainly never needed the approval of strangers. all he needed was a place where he could finally relax after the world exhausted him.

and every single time he opened the front door and found you waiting on the other side, he was reminded that he'd already found everything he wanted. you.

𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

sae had known for a long time that he didn't want children.

it wasn't something he announced publicly, and it wasn't a topic he spent much time discussing. he simply never saw himself as a father. whenever people talked about future families, children, and parenthood, sae's interest disappeared almost immediately.

he preferred focusing on the life he was actually living rather than some expectation other people had created for him.

when you told him that you didn't want children either, he didn't react dramatically. he didn't look surprised or relieved. he simply listened as you explained yourself, then nodded once as if you had confirmed something he already suspected.

"that's fine," he said.

and for sae, that response meant a lot more than most people realized.

one of the things sae valued most was certainty. he hated unnecessary complications and disliked people who constantly changed their minds. knowing that the two of you wanted the same future removed a problem before it could ever exist.

there was no need for long discussions, no waiting for one person to eventually compromise, and no concern that resentment would build over time.

after getting married, your lives continued exactly as you wanted. while people around you seemed obsessed with reaching certain milestones, the two of you were perfectly content where you were. there was no rush to create a bigger family.

there was no feeling that something was missing. your relationship wasn't a stepping stone toward another goal. it was the goal.

sae especially appreciated the freedom that came with it. his career had always demanded a lot from him. even when he wasn't playing, there were interviews, appearances, travel, and countless other obligations. the little free time he had was precious.

he preferred spending it with you rather than restructuring his entire life around responsibilities he never wanted in the first place.

unfortunately, social media loved discussing things that weren't anyone else's business. every few months, someone would post a clip from an interview or a photo of the two of you, and people would immediately start speculating. strangers somehow convinced themselves they knew exactly what was best for your marriage.

the comments were always predictable.

"they'll change their minds."

"just wait a few years."

"they're missing out."

"they don't understand what real happiness is."

sae found those comments particularly irritating. not because they offended him, but because they assumed everyone wanted the same life. he had spent years making decisions for himself instead of following other people's expectations. he wasn't about to stop now.

during one interview, a reporter casually asked if he planned on having children in the future. sae looked at him for a moment before giving a simple answer.

"no."

the reporter laughed awkwardly, clearly expecting something longer.

"you're very sure about that."

"yes."

that was the entire conversation. and naturally, the clip spread across social media within hours.

people analyzed his answer for days. some insisted he was joking. others claimed he would eventually mature and change his mind. a few were somehow convinced that you secretly disagreed with him and were simply waiting for the right time.

sae ignored all of it.

because while thousands of strangers were debating his future online, he was sitting at home with you, completely unaffected by any of it.

the reactions became even worse when people learned that both of you had taken permanent steps to remain childfree. suddenly everyone had an opinion. articles appeared. discussions exploded online. complete strangers spoke about your marriage as if they were personally involved.

sae found the entire thing exhausting.

when another interviewer eventually asked whether he was worried about regretting such a permanent decision, he looked genuinely confused.

"why would i regret making a choice i wanted?"

the interviewer didn't have an answer. and neither did the people online.

years passed, and the predictions never came true. there was no dramatic realization. no sudden desire for children. no regret waiting around the corner. instead, there were vacations planned whenever your schedules allowed it, quiet dinners together after long days, and the comfort of knowing that the life you were living was one you had both chosen.

in the end, that was what mattered most to sae.

not public approval, not social media opinions, not other people's expectations, just the fact that every time he looked toward the future, you were there beside him exactly as you always had been.

and as far as sae was concerned, that future was already complete.