As their wedding day neared, Sooah found herself both excited and uneasy. There was an undeniable tension in the air between her and Jaemin, and it wasn't just the usual pre-marriage jitters. It was the unsettling silence surrounding his past—the three years he had spent away from her, those years that had transformed him from the boy she had left behind into the man she barely recognized now.
One night, as they sat together in their living room, the faint glow of the fireplace casting shadows across their faces, Sooah found herself thinking about it again.
"Jaemin," she began, her voice soft but filled with curiosity, "I've been meaning to ask you… what exactly happened during the three years we were apart?"
Jaemin glanced up from his tablet, his brow furrowing slightly as though he hadn't expected the question. He set the device down on the coffee table and turned his attention to her.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone casual, though she could see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"I mean, you… changed," Sooah said, her words careful, as though she were walking on thin ice. "I don't know what happened, where you were, or what you did all that time."
Jaemin leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming distant. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice steady but almost too calm.
"I had time to think," he said simply. "That's all you need to know."
Sooah stared at him, her heart sinking with each word he spoke. She had hoped for more, perhaps an explanation, some hint of what he had gone through. But instead, Jaemin was as elusive as ever, refusing to elaborate on the years that had shaped him into the man sitting before her.
"Think?" she echoed, her voice trembling with frustration. "That's all you're going to tell me? What did you do all that time, Jaemin? Where did you go? I don't even know what happened to you, and it feels like I'm the only one left in the dark."
Jaemin's gaze softened, but there was no warmth in it—just a quiet understanding that seemed to say he had already made peace with the past.
"It's not interesting, Sooah," he replied, his voice flat. "It's in the past. Let it stay there."
The finality in his words cut through her like a knife. She wanted to argue, to demand more, but she knew deep down that it wouldn't change anything. Jaemin wasn't going to open up to her, not about the most important part of his life—the part that had molded him into the man she was now about to marry.
Sooah swallowed her disappointment, forcing a small smile as she nodded.
"I see," she said quietly, feeling the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them.
Jaemin didn't seem to notice the subtle shift in her demeanor. He simply leaned forward, running a hand through his hair, and returned to his tablet, effectively ending the conversation.
The silence stretched between them, and Sooah couldn't help but wonder if she would ever truly understand him.
Their wedding day arrived with all the pomp and circumstance that Sooah had once dreamed of—except now, it felt more like a performance than a celebration. The guests, the extravagant venue, the carefully chosen dresses and suits—everything was meticulously planned, but it all felt strangely hollow.
As they exchanged vows, Sooah couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Jaemin stood beside her, looking every bit the composed, handsome man she had come to expect. His words were brief, sincere, but distant, as though he was reciting a script he had memorized long ago.
Sooah's heart tightened. She had dreamed of this day, imagined what it would feel like to be married to Jaemin, to hold his hand and finally bridge the gap that had grown between them. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized that this wasn't the reunion she had hoped for.
Jaemin wasn't the same person she had left. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the same either.
The ceremony was beautiful, and afterward, they shared a quiet moment in a private room before the reception. Sooah, still feeling a mix of emotions, tried to gauge Jaemin's mood.
"Are you happy?" she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper.
He met her gaze, his eyes steady. "I'm fine."
It wasn't exactly the answer she had hoped for. But it was enough, she supposed.
"I guess we'll have to make this work," Sooah said, more to herself than to him.
Jaemin gave a slight nod, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles—one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Maybe," he said quietly.
Sooah couldn't help but feel the weight of his indifference. She had wanted Jaemin to change, to grow into someone who could stand on his own. And yet, in doing so, he had become a man she couldn't quite reach.
As the night drew to a close and they retreated to their new home, Sooah felt a sense of finality settle over her. Jaemin, as usual, was focused on work, barely acknowledging her presence as he continued to go through his emails and reports.
In a way, she was relieved. At least he wasn't looking to her for constant validation or affection, not like before. But the emptiness that had crept into their relationship was undeniable.
She had gotten the man she thought she wanted, but now, she wasn't so sure. Jaemin had shut himself off, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find a way in.
As she lay in their bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Sooah realized something.
Jaemin hadn't just changed. He had built walls around himself, walls that even she couldn't break down. And maybe, just maybe, he was content to leave things that way.