Sooah sat on the edge of their bed, her fingers gripping the edge of the fabric as she stared at the floor. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the unspoken tension that had been building up between them for weeks. Jaemin, her husband, the man she had chosen to marry, had changed in ways she couldn't have anticipated. He was no longer the boy who had begged for her love, the man who had fawned over her. He was distant, cold, and, in some strange way, almost unreachable.
But tonight, something was different.
She felt the sharp sting of loneliness cut through her chest. It wasn't just the physical emptiness of the bed beside her. It was the emotional void—the distance between her and Jaemin that seemed to grow with every passing day. She missed him. She missed the boy she had once known, the boy who had needed her. The boy who had loved her despite everything.
And yet, here he was. A stranger. A man so composed, so restrained that it terrified her. So much had changed, and she realized that she didn't know how to reach him anymore.
Her hands trembled as she wiped away a tear that had slipped from her eye. Why am I like this? she thought. I wanted this. I begged for this. But now... now I don't know what to do.
With a quiet breath, she turned to face him, the man she had once promised to love and cherish. Jaemin sat across the room, buried in his work, his focus unwavering. He was always working, always buried in some task, always keeping himself busy. And she hated it. Because when he was like that, she was invisible to him. The woman he married was nothing but a shadow in the background, waiting for his attention.
Sooah stood up, her legs shaky as she crossed the room, and before she knew it, her voice was breaking the silence.
"Jaemin... can I... can I have a hug?"
The words felt strange coming from her lips, foreign even. She had never been this vulnerable with him. But the loneliness was suffocating, and she couldn't bear it anymore.
Jaemin didn't respond at first, his eyes still glued to the screen of his laptop. But the silence between them stretched on, and Sooah's heart began to race. She almost regretted saying anything at all. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe she was asking for too much.
Then, without warning, Jaemin stood up. His movements were fluid, deliberate, and in the dim light of the room, he made his way toward her. Sooah held her breath, not daring to move, too afraid to hope.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. The warmth of his body surrounded her, and she felt herself sink into him, desperate for the comfort she hadn't realized she craved. His chest was firm beneath her, and the muscles she could feel under his clothes shocked her. His body was so different—so sculpted, so strong. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him like this. The once-soft Jaemin was gone, replaced by a man who had shed everything about his past. No trace of fat. Only raw muscle, honed by hours of work.
Sooah's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to pull away, to push back the overwhelming sensation that washed over her, but she didn't. She clung to him instead, desperate for the warmth, for the connection she felt slipping through her fingers.
Her mind raced. This isn't the Jaemin I remember. She could feel his muscles tightening under her touch, each breath he took steady and controlled. He felt like a stranger in the best way—like he was no longer the weak, unsteady boy who had once depended on her to fill the empty spaces in his life.
The warmth he radiated was intoxicating, and for the first time in so long, Sooah felt a flicker of hope. She wasn't sure if it was the hug she needed or if it was the brief glimpse of the man Jaemin had become. Either way, she didn't want to let go.
But there was a fear gnawing at her. A fear that if she clung to him too tightly, if she showed too much of herself, he might pull away. He might reject her once again, just like he had done before. The thought terrified her, and she found herself clinging to him even more tightly, afraid to break the fragile moment they were sharing.
Jaemin didn't say a word. He didn't move. He simply held her, his arms wrapped around her as if he, too, was locked in the same moment of quiet desperation. But to Sooah's dismay, there was no warmth in his embrace beyond the physical. He didn't pull her closer. He didn't kiss her forehead or whisper sweet words of reassurance. He simply let her be.
It was enough, though. For a moment, it was enough.
When she finally pulled away, Jaemin didn't stop her. He just stood there, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Sooah couldn't tell if he was thinking about the hug or if he had already moved on, his mind returning to whatever task he was focused on earlier.
Sooah quickly turned away, unable to meet his gaze for fear of seeing something she didn't want to see. She didn't want to see his indifference. She didn't want to see the way he had shut off his emotions, distancing himself from her once again.
The next morning, Jaemin woke up early, as he always did. But today was different. Today, something had changed inside him. He hadn't let her go, not entirely. But the brief moment of vulnerability had shaken him. He couldn't afford to feel. Not now. Not when he had spent so long learning how to bury everything that made him weak.
He stood in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with cold eyes. He was no longer the boy who had begged for her love. He was no longer the man who had clung to his past mistakes. He was someone new—someone who had learned to endure, to push through pain, to be strong. But that strength came at a cost.
With a quiet breath, he made his way to the gym, his feet hitting the floor with a rhythmic determination. Today, he would punish himself. He would work harder than he ever had before. He would push his body beyond its limits because he had allowed himself to feel last night, and that could never happen again.
He ran on the treadmill for an hour, lifting weights for twice the amount of time he usually did. Every movement, every drop of sweat, was a reminder of the walls he had built around himself. A reminder that he could never let his guard down again. Not for her. Not for anyone.
As the hours passed, Jaemin's body ached with exhaustion. But the pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him. A storm of emotions he couldn't afford to face. He had chosen this path. He had chosen to bury it all. And he would never let anyone—least of all Sooah—see how much it hurt.
Because if he did, he feared he would break.