Lee Minho ⁻ ⁽27⁾

It was one of those many parties they had attended as a couple. Minho and you had gotten married three years ago, and it was time for two mutual friends to tie the knot as well.

Throughout the evening with your husband, there was a man who kept approaching you, sometimes inventing excuses to start a conversation, but you ignored his advances. Minho was already getting drunk and wasn't paying you the slightest attention.

There was a moment when you got up to go to the bathroom, and even though you insisted Minho accompany you, he just told you that you were old enough to go alone. You overcame your fear and walked down the hallway, away from the crowd dancing on the dance floor. And that's when the man who had been harassing you came up to you and tried to corner you, until Minho intervened and hit him. But your husband's mind was clouded; he thought you had "offered yourself" to the other man. They started arguing, and you assured him that it wasn't what it seemed, but he insulted you, continuing until you started to cry. And he didn't care.

The next day, the hangover was killing him. His eyes felt heavy from the glare streaming through the window. He turned to his side and noticed you were gone. He forced himself to remember everything that had happened, until finally it all came back to him: you weren't to blame for any of it. He felt like an idiot for having been so jealous, and even stopped to cry from the guilt, and now he needed to apologize.

After a shower and a couple of painkillers, she ran to the first place she thought of: your parents' house. You always took refuge there after a fight.

The front doorbell rang, and your mother walked from the kitchen to answer it. Minho asked her to let him in, and she did. He went upstairs to what used to be your room and knocked on the door.

—"I'm really sorry. Let me talk to you, please."