🧸౨ৎ Go Eunhyuk.

The arcade is bustling with flashing lights and the clink of coins dropping into the machine. Your hand grips the joystick tightly, determination driving your every move as the claw descends, grabs the doll, and—miraculously—doesn't let go.

"I got it!" you exclaimed, your heart pounding as the doll fell into the prize slot. You turned to Eunhyuk—your husband, smiling widely, cradling the doll like a trophy. But instead of his usual wide grin, playful teasing, or even a celebratory hug—he just gave you a barely noticeable, tired smile.

"Good," he said, his voice flat, barely audible over the noise of the arena. His eyes glanced at the clock on his phone. "It's getting late."

Your excitement faded, like a balloon slowly losing air. You glanced at him, searching for something—anything—in his expression. The Eunhyuk you once loved would probably ruffle your hair, tease you for being too excited about the doll, and then drag you to another machine to win the same doll just to compete with you. But this Eunhyuk stood there, aloof. Indifferent.