Lee Minho

Minho sat in his office, his face illuminated by the last rays of sunset filtering through the glass panels of the penthouse. Time dragged on, as if mocking his impatience. It was almost nine, and Jisung still wasn't home. He was out clubbing again, oblivious to his obligations and the fact that he wasn't just the son of a wealthy businessman and a party animal, but also Lee Minho's husband.

Minho swallowed the bitter whiskey, feeling the warmth of the alcoholic drink dispel his anxious thoughts. He didn't understand why his parents had felt the need to tie his fate to Jisung. There was no romance in their contracts, only cold calculation. His husband was made for social events, not family life. Minho struggled to keep his emotions under control. Lazy, spoiled, and always looking for fun—that was Jisung. But perhaps it was his parents who believed that Minho, with his serious nature and businesslike mind, would be able to "reason" with their son.

"This is ridiculous," Minho said to himself out loud, trying to express his inner discontent. He had always been one of the best in his profession, but here, in this strange, loveless relationship, he felt helpless.

Reaching for his car keys, he stood up and buttoned his coat. Autumn laid its cold fingers on the streets of Seoul, but Minho knew he couldn't remain in this endless wait. He let out a long, drawn-out breath and walked out of the office. The door clicked shut behind him.