The days had been passing in a blur, and Sooah could no longer ignore the growing ache inside her. The distance between her and Jaemin seemed to stretch endlessly, an unspoken chasm that she wasn't sure how to cross. They had been married for a while now, and yet, it felt as though they were still strangers. She could count the number of times he had touched her—on one hand. And none of those moments felt like they came from a place of warmth or affection.
Jaemin was colder than ever. Every glance he gave her was distant, almost clinical, and the few times they did share a moment, it felt like he was hiding parts of himself away from her. He was meticulous, focused, his mind always on work or self-discipline. His transformation had been so drastic that she often found herself questioning the man she had married.
She had been naïve before, thinking that she could somehow fix him or bring back the Jaemin who had once fawned over her, who had followed her every command without question. But that man was gone, replaced by someone who barely acknowledged her, let alone showered her with the affection she so desperately craved.
Sooah stood in the corner of their bedroom one evening, watching him as he sat at his desk, typing away on his laptop, his focus unbreakable. She had been trying to get his attention for the past hour, making small talk and offering him gentle smiles, but he hadn't responded.
She had tried everything—pleasantries, casual touches, even jokes—but Jaemin was a fortress. His walls had grown thicker over the years, and she had no idea how to break through them. He was so controlled, so restrained, that it made her feel small in comparison. Her own emotional needs seemed like an afterthought to him.
Sooah walked across the room, hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was light, almost tentative, as though she were afraid that any more force would make him recoil.
Jaemin didn't flinch, but neither did he respond.
"Jaemin," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Can we… can we talk? I miss you."
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. He didn't look up, and Sooah's heart sank as the seconds ticked by. She wanted to pull her hand away, to retreat back to the bed and bury her emotions deep inside, but she couldn't. Not when her loneliness was suffocating her.
Finally, Jaemin's fingers stopped, but he didn't look at her. "We're talking now," he said, his tone even, almost devoid of emotion.
Sooah could feel the sting of his indifference, but she wasn't ready to give up. She needed more than this—more than the distant husband she had in front of her now.
"Jaemin," she repeated, more urgently this time. "I need you. I need you to hold me. I… I feel so alone. So distant from you. You don't touch me anymore. You barely look at me. What happened to us?"
Jaemin's eyes finally flicked up to meet hers. His gaze was unreadable, cold even.
"I'm here, Sooah," he said, his voice like ice. "I've been here."
"I know you're here," Sooah whispered, her eyes welling with tears. "But you're not really with me. You're not here with me. I just… I just need you, Jaemin. Please."
The desperation in her voice was something she hadn't wanted him to hear, but the dam had broken, and all the pain she had been holding inside spilled out in waves. Her need for him, for his touch, for any kind of affection—everything that had been so neglected in their marriage—had built up to this breaking point.
Jaemin remained still for a moment, the air thick with tension. His face betrayed nothing, but Sooah could see the subtle tightening of his jaw, the flicker of something in his eyes that almost looked like regret.
Without saying a word, he stood up from his desk and walked toward her. His movements were calculated, deliberate. Sooah's breath caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just inches away from her, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she thought he might pull her into his arms.
But instead, Jaemin looked down at her, his gaze as cold and distant as ever. His hand, which she had thought would reach for her, hung by his side. He didn't touch her. He didn't embrace her.
Sooah's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the tears threatening to spill, but she forced them back. She had to be strong. She had to make him see her, to make him feel something for her again.
"You've changed so much," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know who you are anymore."
Jaemin finally spoke, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "I'm the same as I was, Sooah. The same person I've always been. But you, you've changed too."
Her eyes widened in shock, the words hitting her harder than she had anticipated. "What do you mean? I haven't changed! I'm the same!"
"No," he said flatly, stepping back slightly. "You've changed. You want things from me that I can't give you. You want a version of me that no longer exists."
Sooah's stomach twisted painfully, the weight of his words sinking in. She had always known that Jaemin's transformation had come at a price—she just hadn't understood the full cost until now. He was right. She had been expecting him to return to the man he was before, but he wasn't that person anymore. He had burned away that part of himself. He was someone different, and the distance between them was only growing.
With a sigh, Jaemin turned to leave the room, his back still to her. "I can't give you affection the way you want. I can't change who I am, Sooah. You knew that when we got back together."
Sooah stood there, frozen, as he walked out of the room. She could hear his footsteps fade down the hall, and with every step, the loneliness inside her grew. She clung to the faint hope that one day, maybe, he would come back to her. But as the door clicked shut behind him, she couldn't help but wonder if that hope was just another fleeting dream.
In the silence that followed, Sooah finally let her tears fall. She had tried so hard to keep it together, to be strong for him, but the weight of her desperation was becoming unbearable. And she realized, in that moment, that no matter how much she needed him, no matter how much she longed for his love, there was nothing she could do to make him feel the same way.
Jaemin had closed himself off, and she was left in the cold, yearning for a warmth that would never come.