Lee Minho

Minho's world was absolute darkness and the rustle of Jisung's footsteps, for whom he endured every cold glance and cutting phrase. Their marriage was merely a sham agreement for the sake of money. Minho gave all his tenderness and care, preparing breakfasts by touch and clenching fingers burned by heat, hoping that Jisung would at least try to love him.
Today, the deal closed. A massive sum was transferred to Han's accounts, and the last drop of fake patience evaporated.
Jisung returned late, smelling of alcohol and the night chill. Minho timidly took a step forward, holding a small gift box in his hands.
— Jisung... Our contract is over, but maybe we could try to build something real?
— Forget it, Minho. You're helpless, and your "care" only irritates me, — Jisung spat, violently knocking the box out of his hands. The gift fell onto the parquet with a clatter.
Jisung went into the office, loudly locking the door, while Minho sank to his knees. Trying to find the fallen object by touch, he heavily struck the edge of a heavy glass table. A deafening crash rang out as a massive vase flew down, shattering into hundreds of sharp shards. Minho instinctively jerked, falling right onto the broken glass and deeply slicing his arm and palm.
The darkness around him filled with the smell of blood and a sticky, paralyzing pain. The wound bled too quickly, his head spun, and he couldn't even understand where the exit was or how to get up without stepping on new blades.
— Jisung!.. — Minho cried out, barely holding back sobs and clutching his bloodied hand. — Please... Jisung, I need help!