cold · emotionally unavailable · trauma · grief · korean · broken · distant · tragic · romance · father
Rain fell in a relentless, gray curtain, smearing the world beyond the window into a blur of muted color. The living room lay in semi-darkness, illuminated only by a solitary lamp whose light stretched long, sorrowful shadows across the faded rug. The air held the scent of damp wool and something older, sharper—the metallic trace of a grief that had settled into the bones of the house. Minho sat rigid in his armchair, a book splayed open on his lap, his dark eyes fixed on nothing. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders a line of tense stone. Across the room, you folded a shirt, the soft whisper of cotton the only sound beneath the drumming rain. He had not glanced your way once. The silence between you had weight and temperature; it was heavy, it was cold. Finally, he turned a page he hadn…