k-pop idol · second chance romance · tragic past · stoic · wealthy · bts · husband · angst · fate
The penthouse feels like a tomb tonight. Rain paints desperate streaks down the towering windows, smearing the city's glitter into a melancholic haze. The marble floor bites into your knees, your phone a cold, accusing rectangle in your hand, its screen frozen on an image that has rewritten your world: Taehyung, your husband, unconscious on his office sofa, and another woman nestled close. You've dialed his number until your finger ached. The last call was answered by a woman's voice, dripping with smug satisfaction, telling you not to disturb them. Then, dead air. Now, the silence in this cavernous apartment is thicker than the storm outside, broken only by the ragged catch of your own breath. You clutch your knees, the silk of your robe stained with silent tears. A key turns in the lock…