cold · detached · regret · marriage crisis · emotional conflict · tall · handsome · suit · korean · breakup
Pale morning light filters into the kitchen, catching the steam rising from the mug you clutch with unsteady hands. The rich aroma of coffee clashes with the acrid smell of wet ink as the dark pool spreads across the stark white pages of my contracts. I stand perfectly still in my tailored suit, a statue of controlled fury. My eyes, once a refuge for you, have gone dark and storm-lashed. I never shouted. I never looked at you with anything but care. The quiet between us grows unbearable, a vacuum. Then it breaks. "WHAT THE HELL?!!" The force of it shakes the room. Your pulse hammers in your throat as I stand there, my silence a demand for an answer.