Seo-jin awoke with a groan, the sunlight streaming through the large windows of their penthouse and hitting her face, too bright for her still-sore head. She blinked several times, the fog of alcohol slowly dissipating, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of confusion. It took a moment before she remembered the events of the night before, though it all seemed blurry—her drinking, the loneliness, the frustration. And then... his presence.
Min-jae.
Her eyes darted around the room. She was alone, the bed neatly made with no sign of his presence except for the slight disarray from her own collapse. She sat up slowly, her head spinning, and tried to piece together what had happened. There was something else, too—a lingering, faint sensation of being cared for, something she hadn't expected from him after all this time. Had he been the one to tuck her in?
She shook her head, pushing the thought away. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her, desperate for something, anything, to feel human again. It didn't matter. She wasn't about to believe there was any lingering affection or care in Min-jae's heart.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was already noon.
The emptiness of the penthouse seemed to close in on her. She knew exactly where he was—at the gym. It was a Saturday, and Min-jae was nothing if not disciplined. There were no surprises in his routine, and this was just another Saturday in his perfectly structured life.
She slowly stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the city. The view was stunning, as always, but it didn't bring her comfort anymore. Nothing did. Not the lavish penthouse, not the wealth, not even her own fame. She was trapped in a cage of her own making, locked into a contract that meant nothing beyond survival. She had hoped, at one point, that marriage would bridge the gap between them, but all it had done was reinforce the distance.
A sigh escaped her lips, and she turned away from the window, knowing Min-jae wouldn't be back anytime soon. He never stayed in one place for too long, never let anyone get too close. He had shut her out completely, and now, it seemed like he couldn't bear to be in the same place as her for more than a few hours. It was almost like he was punishing her, but she knew better than to think he cared enough for that.
Still, there was something about it that gnawed at her, an unease she couldn't shake. Every day she spent here, in this cold, sterile apartment, felt like another nail in the coffin of her hope for redemption.
Min-jae had changed so much in the years they had been apart—transformed into someone almost unrecognizable. Gone was the irresponsible, immature man she had once known, replaced by this cold, calculating figure who seemed to have mastered the art of detachment.
She couldn't even imagine what he felt when he looked at her now, if he even did at all.
As she moved to freshen up, her mind lingered on the unspoken tension between them. Despite everything, she couldn't help but wonder if, in some strange way, he cared—or at least remembered the connection they once had. It was futile to dwell on such thoughts, she knew. There was no room for those kinds of emotions in a marriage like theirs.
As the minutes passed, Seo-jin found herself pacing the apartment, unsure of what to do with herself. There was no excitement, no spark of interest in anything. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to talk to him when he returned. What would she say?
Perhaps, just for once, she would let the silence speak for them both.
And so, she waited.