Jaemin stood in the living room, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Sooah, who sat on the couch, her hands nervously clutching the hem of her sweater. It had been days since he'd suggested they do something—anything—to break the cycle of their routine, to try and reconnect outside the walls of their home. He had planned something simple: a walk in the park or perhaps a visit to her family's house, just to ease the tension, to show her that life could exist beyond the suffocating bubble they had created for themselves.
But as soon as he mentioned it, her entire demeanor shifted. She stiffened, her body curling inward as if bracing for an impact that wasn't coming. Her eyes widened with a look that was all too familiar now—fear, anxiety, and an almost desperate reluctance to leave the comfort of their prison.
"I… I can't," Sooah said, her voice small and wavering as she looked up at him. "I don't want to go. Not today."
Jaemin's eyebrows furrowed. He had expected some hesitation, but not this level of refusal. He had hoped that a change of scenery might shake her out of this strange, insular behavior. It seemed like a small thing, a step toward normalcy, but Sooah's reaction was far from what he anticipated.
He stepped closer, trying to read her expression. "What do you mean you don't want to go? It's just a walk, Sooah. We can visit your family. I thought you'd like that."
Her eyes darted to the floor, as if afraid to make direct contact with him. "I… I'm not ready," she mumbled, her hands twisting around each other. "I don't want to face anyone. I don't want them to see me like this..."
Jaemin paused, his heart sinking. He hadn't seen this kind of anxiety in her before. When they were younger, Sooah had been outgoing, confident in her own skin. Now, it seemed as if she were shrinking away from the world, retreating deeper into her self-imposed isolation.
"I'm not asking you to face the world, Sooah," Jaemin said, trying to keep his tone gentle, despite the frustration bubbling under the surface. "I just want to take a walk with you. We can talk, be outside. You don't have to pretend everything's perfect, but it doesn't have to be this way either."
Sooah shook her head rapidly, her whole body tensing as if she were about to bolt away from him. "No, no, I can't! I can't do it. I'm not… I'm not ready to leave you. Not now. Not like this."
Jaemin's patience began to wear thin, but he held himself back. He understood that her fears, her attachment, weren't just about being in public or around others; they were about him. About them. She had become so entangled in her need for him, her dependency on him, that even the thought of stepping away from him—even for a moment—sent her into a spiral of anxiety.
"Why are you so afraid?" Jaemin asked, though he already knew the answer. It wasn't about leaving the house or seeing her family. It was about losing the grip she had on him, the tight hold that kept her tethered to him, even when she couldn't breathe.
"I'm scared you'll leave me," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if the words were too heavy to speak. "I'm scared that if I step away, even for a second, you'll… you'll disappear again. And I can't lose you. I can't go through that again."
The words hit Jaemin like a physical blow. He had known she was dependent on him, but hearing it spoken aloud, so raw and vulnerable, was a different reality altogether. It was suffocating, this fear that had taken root in her heart—the fear of abandonment, the fear of losing him after everything they had been through.
"I'm not going anywhere," Jaemin said quietly, his voice softer than he intended. He walked over to her and crouched in front of the couch, his gaze meeting hers. "But you can't keep hiding from the world, Sooah. I want to be here for you, but you have to trust me. Trust that I'm not going to vanish."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she recoiled slightly, as if she couldn't bear to let herself believe him. The fear in her eyes was suffocating, and Jaemin couldn't help but feel that his attempts to help her were only making things worse.
"I… I can't trust it," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't trust that it won't all fall apart again. What if you leave me like everyone else? What if you don't come back? I can't survive that again."
The weight of her words pressed down on Jaemin's chest, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. The ache of her dependence was suffocating him, just as much as it was suffocating her.
"I won't leave you, Sooah," he repeated, his voice firm, though his heart ached with the knowledge that this wasn't a simple promise he could make. It wasn't just about him anymore; it was about the bond they had created, twisted and complicated by years of distance, pain, and misunderstandings.
"I need you to trust me. Trust that I'm here. And let's start by taking one small step together. Just one. We'll go outside. It'll be okay."
Sooah looked at him, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence stretched between them like a chasm, and Jaemin realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fix this. Not yet.
With a deep sigh, Jaemin stood up, running a hand through his hair. "It's okay, Sooah," he said softly, though his words felt hollow. "If you're not ready, that's fine. But you have to promise me something. That one day, you will be. That one day, we can try again. We can leave this house. We can live. Without all this fear."
Sooah nodded slowly, her eyes still wide and fearful, but something flickered there—perhaps a small seed of hope, buried deep within the confusion. Jaemin could only hope that one day, they would be able to take that step. But right now, he knew that the only thing he could do was wait—wait for her to trust again, wait for her to find the courage to face the world outside of the cage they had built together.
And for himself, he would wait. He would wait and try to be patient, though the weight of their reality pressed harder with each passing day.
In the silence that followed, Jaemin left the room, his heart heavy, his mind racing with the uncertainty of their future.