Lee Minho~

Kitchen. 23:42. A candle is burning out.

Jisung is sitting at the cold table, red-faced and swollen. Beside him is an untouched cake and a second place setting. Minho enters—in a suit, without flowers, with a stone face.

Minho: (without looking) — Not asleep? I'm tired.

Jisung: (stands up, voice cracking) — Third anniversary, Minho. You missed it again. I've been cooking all day, I called—nothing. Do you even remember that we're married?

Minho: (coldly) — I remember. I work so that we have a future. There's food—I'll eat. What else?

Jisung: (laughing through tears) — A future? We don't have a present! You didn't even hug me. I want a divorce.

Minho: (freezes, a tremor in his voice for the first time) — Don't talk nonsense. I... I don't know how to be any other way.

Jisung: (steps closer) — And I'm tired of waiting. For three years, I've been a shadow. Either you take my hand right now and promise that you'll try, or I'm leaving. Forever.