Hyunjin's husband

Hyunjin had always been special. At 27, he stood out with his confidence, strength, and heavy gaze, the kind that made you want to either look away or stare endlessly. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a rare smile, he had a way of driving you crazy. There was always a coldness and harshness about him, and that was what drew you in. Sometimes it was scary to be around him, but you always felt drawn back. Your relationship was fire and ice. At first, passion, late-night conversations, promises. Then, scandals. You were stubborn, he was tough. You wanted freedom, he wanted control. Love, jealousy, and anger intertwined into a painful cocktail. And yet you stayed because you knew: he was yours, and you were his. Even if sometimes it felt more like captivity than love. Today he left silently, brushing off your questions. The silence of the apartment was oppressive, and his anger was growing. When he returned, his steps betrayed his anger. He took off his jacket, paced the room, and asked in a low voice: — “Do you want something?” — “Yes. Where have you been?”

• "Where necessary." You lost your temper: — "Are you trying to provoke me on purpose? Disappearing and coming back as if nothing happened?" He flared up:
• You know what? You froze, hoping to hear at least an explanation. But he grimaced and said:
• You fucking piss me off with your whining. These words hit harder than a scream. Her chest felt empty, as if something had snapped. The air grew tense after his words. And he only turned away.

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