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iibonniee · 6 months ago

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Meet Your Match - Chapter 3

Paring: Kihyun x reader x Minhyuk

Genre: Angst

Warnings: angst, arguing

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5.8k

Masterlist

Glancing down at her phone, she let out an irritated sigh. As much as she loved her husband and brother, they were enough to drive her crazy. Across from her sat Minhyuk, who seemed absorbed in what his phone offered him.

Her soft smile wasn’t noticed by her company. Minhyuk took another languid sip of his drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass like a gentle chime. His eyes, a warm combination of curiosity and distraction, remained glued to the luminous screen of his phone, consuming the cascade of information with an almost reverent focus. Yet, amidst the silent symphony of scrolling and sipping, he felt the subtle shift in the air—the unspoken words hanging between them—prompting him to look up.

His gaze met hers, and Minhyuk’s lips parted into a soft smile in that brief exchange. It was a fleeting gesture but profound enough to stir an effervescent flurry in her stomach, her heart dancing to the rhythm of nervous anticipation. She wrestled with the sensation, pushing it away like an unwanted whisper in the wind.

Clearing her throat, she broke the silence that had settled between them. “Kihyun... he messaged me,” she said, her voice stronger than expected. The words were an anchor, drawing Minhyuk back from his sea of thoughts. “He’s... apologizing for his actions.”

A peculiar silence enveloped the room as Minhyuk’s smile waned, his expression clouded by the mention of Kihyun’s name. His reaction was not dramatic, yet the falter in his usual composure was as telling as a shout in a library. His fingers paused their rhythmic tapping on the screen; an internal conflict washed over him, leaving a residue of discomfort she could almost feel hanging in the air.

Despite the storm brewing behind his eyes, Minhyuk chose silence. He shifted his gaze back to his phone as if seeking refuge in its glow, but his focus was no longer there, scattered by the tempest of thoughts that Kihyun’s message had stirred within him. She watched him, seeing the mask of tranquility he tried to maintain, knowing well the signs of his inner turmoil. Yet she respected his choice, offering him the space to navigate his feelings, even as her emotions churned with unsaid words and unasked questions.

“Are you planning on going home then?” He finally spoke, his words cutting through the silence that had settled heavily between them. His eyes were now back on her, and Minhyuk placed his phone down on the table, an evident sign of his attention fully turning towards her. His head was tilted slightly, a subtle cue signifying his concern’s gravity.

“Not right away,” she replied, steadying her tone. Her hands rested on the table, her fingers absently tracing the contour of her own glass. Her instinct was to remain nonchalant, to display an aura of calm despite the quickening pulse she felt within her chest. “But if I stay out too much longer, Nari will notice I’m gone. She’s… picked up on me, and Kihyun’s fighting much more. I know it’s getting to her. I don’t want to cause her more strain than our arguments already throw at her.”

Minhyuk nodded, acknowledging her words with a faint, wistful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The topic of Nari, her daughter, offered him a momentary diversion from the unrest brewing beneath the surface. But the question that genuinely gnawed at him refused to be pushed aside for long. “Does Kihyun know you’re here with me?” he asked, his voice holding a tinge of caution as if bracing for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

The question hung in the air, weighty and sincere. “Yes, he knows,” she responded after a moment, her voice a mix of pride and firm resolve. “I wouldn’t lie to my husband, even when things are tense.” She locked eyes with Minhyuk, conveying the depth of her conviction. “I love him, and when we married, we promised to always be honest with each other.”

The confession settled some of the tumult within Minhyuk, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. Yet, the mention of promises and love in marriage stirred an unfathomable emotion within him, leaving a bittersweet echo as a reminder of the complexities of their intertwined relationships.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Minhyuk asked her softly. She knew the look in his eye. She knew his relationship with her husband was a mix between strong and wavering. The on-and-off balance seemed to never want to fall on one end. Minhyuk had told her it was alright; it was like this: Kihyun was his best friend at the end of the day, and he respected their relationship. “I know your car is still at Hyungwon’s. I can’t imagine how pissed Kihyun would be if I let you take a cab home. Things… aren’t too great between us right now, either. I don’t think he was thrilled knowing you were with me, but if he cared about you enough, surely he would let this slide.”

Minhyuk’s offer, delivered in a tone gentle and laden with unspoken empathy, hung between them, both an olive branch and a veiled acknowledgment of the undercurrents in his relationship with Kihyun. The air was thick with unsaid words, and her mind couldn’t help but tread on the tender ground of curiosity, yearning to understand the fluctuating dynamics between the two men.

Yet, before she could voice her questions, Minhyuk subtly shifted the focus. He leaned back, a wry, almost resigned smile gracing his lips, betraying his intent to deflect further inquiry. “Let’s not worry about that now,” he said, a quiet undercurrent of finality lacing his words. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

She hesitated, the taut string of her emotions fraying with each passing moment. The evident strain between Minhyuk and Kihyun pulled at her, adding weight to her already heavy heart. They were her family, yet they were cloaked in a mystery that seemed to grow deeper with every elusive glance and carefully chosen word.

Ultimately, it wasn’t the not knowing that convinced her, but the realization that Minhyuk offered a ride home and a sanctuary from the brewing storm. “Alright,” she agreed, her voice a soft concession borne of exhaustion and trust in Minhyuk’s caring nature. “Thank you, Minhyuk. I’d appreciate the ride.”

Minhyuk offered a slight nod, attempting to camouflage the relief that flickered in his eyes as he stood and moved to her side. The gesture was simple, a friend extending a helping hand, but it carried the weight of their shared history, the silent vows of protection and support that friends — that family — offered one another without a second thought.

The ride to her home was a silent journey, an unspoken agreement to let the evening quiet envelop them both. Minhyuk’s hands were steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road that unwound in the dim glow of the streetlights. She sat beside him, wrapped in her own thoughts, feeling the fabric of her evening fray into contemplation and concern.

They arrived at her residence, the familiar outline of her home - their home. The same beautiful house Kihyun had promised her the night they got married. Her heart hitched at the sight of Kihyun, her husband, standing outside, his figure backlit by the porch light. His stance was patient, a quiet sentinel awaiting her return.

“This is you,” he said, the softness in his voice betraying the strength he projected. Minhyuk pulled the car to a gentle stop, the engine’s purr dwindling to silence. With a cautious glance at Kihyun, Minhyuk hit the switch to unlock the doors.

She reached for the door handle, fleeting gratitude brushing her lips as she murmured a subdued “Thank you” to Minhyuk. Stepping out of the car, she was immediately enveloped in the crisp night air, a prelude to the warmth she was about to face.

As she approached Kihyun, his expression shifted, a softening of features at the sight of his wife. It was an unguarded moment, a testament to their shared love that persisted through difficulties and strain. He pulled her into his embrace, and she melted into him, their troubles momentarily suspended in the cocoon of his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that spoke of apology, forgiveness, and a promise to move forward together.

The door closed behind her, leaving Minhyuk alone after their departure. The silence that settled was abruptly punctuated by Kihyun’s piercing gaze. He had turned, offering Minhyuk a glance that was both a warning and a demand for understanding. It was the look of a man protecting what he layered with the complexity of friendship and the unspoken struggles only they knew.

Minhyuk acknowledged the unvoiced message with a nod, signaling respect and boundaries before Kihyun disappeared inside the home. As Minhyuk drove away, the night reclaimed its stillness, leaving him to navigate the roads and his thoughts, which were as twisted and intertwined as the streets that led him back into the loneliness of the city night.

The moment the door shut for the final time that night, Y/N turned to Kihyun, who let out a soft breath. His eyes didn’t meet hers, but she could tell by how his lips held a firm line that he was trying his hardest not to say something. His eyes finally flicked to her, his mouth holding a frown.

“Welcome home.” His voice quivered as he finally spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. With a quick intake of breath, he straightened his posture, attempting to mask his vulnerability.

“Don’t, Kihyun. I’m not in the mood, so please don’t start,” she interjected sharply, sensing the tension thickening around them. She knew that pleading would only take her so far; her raw truth was bound to have consequences.

“Not in the mood?” he echoed, words laced with a sharp edge. Kihyun’s face darkened, the festering hurt bubbling to the surface as he stepped back, his embrace growing cold. “I’m left waiting, wondering if my wife will come home or spend her night confiding in my best friend and her brother — and I shouldn’t start?”

She felt the sting of his words, but her frustrations were brimming over, a tempest no less fierce than his own. “Yes, my brother,” she retorted, her voice raising in pitch, a blend of defiance and pain. “Because when I look for my husband, I find a man so entangled in his work that he can’t spare a glance for his own family!”

“You think I don’t see you? That I don’t care?” Kihyun’s voice cracked, his facade crumbling as his raw emotion spilled out. “I’m working for us — so we can have the life you deserve!”

“Deserve?” she spat back, her eyes flashing with an incendiary mix of sadness and anger. “I don’t deserve a husband so lost to his work that he becomes a stranger to me! I needed you, Kihyun. I needed my husband, not this distant... shadow that’s left in his place.”

Kihyun’s stance softened for a second, but she saw the realization, the understanding dawning on him. But it was quickly veiled by the resurgence of his defenses. Silence fell, a bitter cloak around their shoulders, and the depth of their struggle was evident in that pause. Two souls, intertwined by love and vows, were now caught in an emotional crossfire where pride and loneliness waged a relentless war.

“I don’t want an empty life filled with hollow successes and a home that feels like a waiting room,” she whispered, her words a serrated blade aimed at the heart of their issues. “I want us back, Kihyun, not this.”

“And you went to them?” Kihyun asked, voice hoarse from the struggle, a mix of accusation and hurt. He stepped towards her, a ghost of despair in his eyes.

“He’s my brother!” she reminded him fiercely. “And right now, he’s one of the few people who make me feel like I’m not alone in this — like I still matter!”

The room seemed to contract around them, the air thick with the weight of their shared sorrow, their love. What they once were falling apart around them.

Her fury rose, pain transforming into a forceful defense of her actions. “He is my blood, Kihyun! When I turn around and need someone, I find his support — not because I seek him out over you, but because he’s present and notices!” Her voice echoed through the room, fraught with her loneliness. “He’s the first person who notices when I’m down. That should be you, Kihyun! Not my brother. Not Minhyuk! You!”

Kihyun’s eyes flashed, a complex, dark glint revealing his internal struggle. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he shot back, his voice cold. “That’s why Hyungwon looks at me the way he does now, with resentment, because he sees the distance between us and blames me — as if I don’t know I’m losing you both!”

“You think you’re losing us?” she fired back, incredulous, her brows knitting together as she shook her head. “We were never yours to lose, Kihyun — not possessions to be pushed aside until they better fit your schedule!” She took a shaky breath, a bitter laugh leaving her lips. “You’d know that if you weren’t so worried about numbers and figuring out when you can properly fit a vacation in your schedule.”

A bitter laugh escapes his lips, laced with desperation and a touch of madness. “And running to Minhyuk every time there’s a problem, too,” Kihyun spits out, his words like deadly arrows aimed straight for the heart. His gaze is piercing, a cold fire burning in his eyes as he accuses with venom in his voice. “What’s with that?”

She knew what he was insinuating without him having to spell it out, and the insinuation tore through her. “So, what? You think there’s something untoward going on between me and your best friend?” As if struck, she recoiled her voice a quiet tremor of hurt and outrage. “You’re so full of it, Kihyun.”

Kihyun’s stance shifted, a visible recoiling of his own, the accusation and doubts clashing tumultuously. “No,” he said, but the conviction was absent, replaced by a hollow, defeated tone, “I don’t know. I just... I don’t see. I don’t see anything anymore.”

“You’re right,” she said, her voice low, leveling her gaze at him. “You don’t see. You don’t see Nari’s longing for her daddy’s attention, for the man who promised her moons and stars but only delivers empty minutes. You don’t see that you’re not the center of my universe because you’ve chosen another galaxy to inhabit — your work.”

Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and sadness. “It’s not fair for me to carry the weight of her expectations while dealing with my heartache. You promised us, but now you’re saying that other things are more important than our life together.” She looked at him with tears in her eyes, torn between her feelings and the reality of their situation. “Kihyun, the day I married you, you promised me you’d go out of your way to get me the universe! Where is that?! If I knew that you’d be so lost in your work not even two years after being married, I would have said no.”

Kihyun’s jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his neck as he battled emotions. “The universe?” he echoed, the words torn from somewhere deep, raw, and edged with fierce desperation. “You think I’ve forgotten? Every day, I wake up with the burden of that promise, knowing that I’m failing you, failing Nari. I’m trying to do right by us. Trying to have us not live the life we did as kids!”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, and she could almost see the walls he had built around himself as if to contain the tempest within. “Do you know how that feels? To toil and strain, to give every ounce of your being, and still fall short?”

Her expression softened momentarily, the anger giving way to the profound sorrow of seeing him so tormented. But the damage had been done, the dark whispers of doubt and fear sharpening her words again. “I never asked for the universe, Kihyun! Just a sliver of your time, your presence. That was my universe.”

“And I’m failing at that, too!” Kihyun’s voice cracked, and his soul laid bare. “But I’m trying, damn it! Can’t you see that? Everything I do, I do for you, for Nari. For our future.”

“The future is now,” she shot back, her voice heavy with the gravity of their present. “Nari is growing up now. I am living now. Our marriage is withering now. What future are you working for if it costs us our now?”

His face twisted with a heartbreaking conflict as if her words were arrows and he had no shield. “I thought it would be enough to build something lasting, something monumental. I could turn around, and there would be time to compensate for the lost moments.”

His breath shuddered, his eyes shimmering with a sheen of unshed tears. “But the sacrifice… it’s too much, isn’t it? I’ve sacrificed the wrong things.”

Their shared pain seemed to bridge the chasm between them for a heartbeat, a mournful realization of the missteps that had led them here. But the chasm was too wide, the damage too deep. The universe he had tried to deliver was collapsing, and their love struggled to survive amid the fallout. In that tumultuous space, amongst their anguished admissions, lay the true heart of their agony: the knowledge that love might not be enough to navigate through the void left by broken promises and shattered trust.

“And what of the life we have now?” she countered, her voice rising to match the pitch of her despair. “The one falling apart at the seams?”

In that heated moment, Kihyun glanced up, suddenly catching sight of a small figure on the stairway. Their daughter, Nari, stood transfixed by the scene unfolding before her. The innocence in her wide, tearful eyes struck him like a physical blow, and instantly, the defensive walls he built began to crumble as he watched as she held her stuffed rabbit close.

“Nari,” he breathed, his voice barely a thread as it reflected a new depth of his anguish.

At his exclamation, Y/N’s gaze swiftly turned to her daughter, the immediate shock freezing her in place. Nari’s eyes met hers for a heart-wrenching moment before the girl turned abruptly, a sob breaking from her as she fled back up the stairs.

Panic and parental guilt overtook the couple’s prior acrimony. They exchanged a look of shared horror, understanding that they had allowed their personal tempest to spill over onto their most precious.

Without another word, they followed in Nari’s wake, their own conflict now secondary to the need to console their child. The two of them raced up the stairs, the sound of their footsteps a stark, urgent drumming against the silence that had fallen after Nari's escape.

Reaching the top, they paused at the entrance to her room, each catching their breath from the exertion and the dire need to repair the inadvertent hurt they’d caused. Y/N’s hand hovered over the doorknob, her eyes meeting Kihyun’s — both slick with a film of regret.

She pushed the door open gently, the sight of Nari curled up on her bed, her small frame shaking with sobs, piercing their hearts like a dagger. The room, usually a sanctuary of laughter, now held a heavy air of something lost, something broken.

“Nari, baby,” Kihyun said, stepping forward, his voice strained yet tender as he reached for their daughter. But Nari recoiled, burrowing deeper into her pillows and stuffed animals fortress, her tear-streaked face turned away.

Y/N moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. She smoothed back Nari’s hair, whispering soothing words. “Honey, we’re so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that or heard any of it.”

Nari’s cries began to subside, her parents’ presence a balm to her fright and confusion. Kihyun knelt beside the bed, his heart aching with the echo of each of Nari’s sniffles. “Your mom and I, we... we love you so much. More than anything in this, or any universe.”

The moment was delicately poised; the air seemed to hold its breath. Y/N reached out, intertwining her fingers with Kihyun’s, a silent act of solidarity in their shared purpose. She offered a wobbly smile to Nari, the gentle humor behind it a frail attempt to dispel the shadows.

“Look at us, sweetheart,” she said softly, the tremble in her tone belying her calm exterior. “We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?”

“Are you... are you going to get a divorce?” The question was a whisper but boomed like thunder in the room’s stillness. Nari sniffled, a faint hiccup breaking through as her gaze shifted between her parents, perhaps searching for the stability that had seemed so shaken.

Kihyun’s hand tightened around Y/N’s, grounding them both. “Oh, Nari,” he murmured, his voice a brush of sound, “No, that’s not what we want. We were just... We need to work through things, but we’re still a team. Your mom and I, we’re going to fix this. I love your mother very much. I even vowed to her the day we got married to cherish her through everything. Your old father… he’s made some mistakes. But I’m going to fix that.”

His eyes, dark and earnest, met Y/N’s, seeking unspoken forgiveness for the shared hurt they had caused their daughter. Y/N nodded, silently echoing his promise.

“Sometimes adults get upset, and we say things we don’t mean,” Y/N explained, her voice laced with sorrow for the innocence that had been momentarily blemished. “But we love you, and that love? It’s stronger than any argument or any problem. We just forgot for a little moment, that’s all.”

Nari hiccuped again, her eyes brimming with hope and lingering uncertainty. “Promise?” The single word was laden with the weight of a child’s entire world.

“We promise,” Kihyun and Y/N said in unison, their voices melding into a singular balm for Nari’s heart.

“Nari,” Y/N spoke up, her heart slightly heavy as she rubbed her daughter’s back, “Where did you hear that? That word shouldn’t be something you know.”

Nari’s little body stilled within the encircling fortress of her parents’ arms. She pulled back slightly, a brave face attempting to overshadow her quivering lip. With a tiny hand, she swept at the tears that triumphed over her lashes, an earnest effort to appear composed.

“I... I heard Lia talking about it,” Nari sniffled, the name of her close friend surfacing among the remnants of her tears. “Her parents argue a lot, too. She said they were getting a divorce, meaning she might have to move away.” Nari’s next breath shuddered. “And I got scared because what if—”

Y/N shared a heavy glance with Kihyun; the unspoken fear that their domestic storms might uproot their daughter’s sense of safety was now painfully spoken aloud. She pulled Nari close once again, cradling her daughter’s face in the warm sanctuary of her palms.

“Oh, honey,” Y/N murmured, her voice threaded with care and subtle strength. “What’s happening with Lia’s family — it’s sad, and it’s okay to be scared. But every family has their own story, and ours is different.”

Kihyun nodded, firm in his conviction, adding, “Just like Lia is your good friend, your mom and I are the best friends, too. And even though we argue sometimes, we always find our way back to each other. We will find our way through this. Together.”

Tiny fingers clung to Y/N’s sleeves, Nari’s wide eyes lifted towards her, a flicker of hope reigniting within their depths. “So... we’re not like Lia’s family?” she asked, seeking assurance more than anything else.

“No, baby, we’re not,” Y/N affirmed, her voice quiet but resolute. “We love each other too much, and we love you even more.” She exchanged a glance with Kihyun, whose presence was a silent oath to the truth in her words. “We have our challenges, but we’ll face them as a family and overcome them as one.”

The subtle wisdom in their words seemed to settle over the room. While the shadows of doubt might take time to dispel entirely, the love within their familial embrace was a testament to their commitment. This promise held more weight than any uncertainty could shake.

Nari’s eyes, still glistening from the remnants of her tears, searched Kihyun’s, seeking the comfort of words and the assurance of action. “Does this mean you’ll be home more?” she asked with a hopeful lilt, a hint of yearning betraying her wishful thinking. “I miss it when you’re home. When you tell me bedtime stories, when we eat dinner together... when we make pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

Kihyun felt the sting of her words; they were an innocent recounting of his absences, a tally of the small moments that made up a young life in which he had been a spectator more often than he preferred. “I miss that too, Nari, very much.”

He reached out, brushing away a stray tear with a thumb, his heart tightening at her soft vulnerability. “I know I’ve been away a lot. Work has kept me busy, but that’s no excuse. You’re my little girl, my star, and I want to be there for all those moments. I promise I’ll be there. For the stories, dinners, pancake mornings... For everything.”

Y/N watched the exchange, the healing words spoken by Kihyun weaving into the very fabric of their small family. She felt a warm glow inside her chest—a mix of love and tentative optimism. “And I’ll help make sure he sticks to that promise,” she added with a playful wink at Kihyun, eliciting a sniffled giggle from Nari.

In a movement brimming with tenderness, Kihyun scooped Nari into his arms, lifting her like the lightest feather. “How about I start tonight? We can pick out a book, and I’ll read until your eyes are heavy with sleep.”

Nari’s smile was a sunrise, brightening the dimmed room, her earlier fears dissipating like mist in the warmth of her father’s pledge and her mother’s love. “And tomorrow,” she said, excitement lacing her words, “can we make pancakes?”

“We can make enough pancakes to feed an army,” Kihyun laughed, the sound rich and full of life’s promise.

Y/N, a silent observer to the exchange, felt something stir within her — a cautious hope that perhaps they could turn a new leaf, one where the family came before all else. She gave her daughter a soft squeeze, her silent promise to ensure Kihyun kept his word.

Kihyun’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment longer, acknowledging her unspoken words before he turned his attention to Nari. “Let’s find that storybook, shall we?” he said, and Nari bobbed her head, her chestnut hair bouncing with the movement.

With Kihyun and Nari nestled under the duvet, their heads close together as they flipped through her favorite fairy tale pages, Y/N quietly exited the room. She made her way through the dimly lit hallway, allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts and brave the swell of emotions that had threatened to engulf her throughout the day. She took deep breaths, steadying herself for the discussion she knew was yet to come.

Minutes slipped by, filled with the low, melodic cadence of Kihyun’s storytelling from the other room. Nari’s light and free laughter floated through the walls, a testament to a father’s love and the healing powers of time spent together.

Finally, the gentle creak of the bedroom door announced Kihyun’s return. He found Y/N seated on their bed, her silhouette framed by the soft lamplight. The air between them was thick, full with things unsaid and deeds yet undone.

“Her laughter—it’s the best sound,” Kihyun started, but Y/N cut him off, her voice firm but weary.

“Kihyun, you made promises tonight. To Nari, to me. Promises I expect you to keep.” Y/N’s eyes held a storm of emotions, a testament to the battles she’d been silently waging. “I’m struggling, Kihyun. Struggling to keep up this facade that everything is fine for Nari’s sake, and you... you’re pulling away when we need you most.”

The room, draped in shadows and the soft luminescence of the bedside lamp, seemed to shrink with the tension that those words carried. Kihyun stood there, the joy of Nari’s laughter from moments ago now replaced by a tightness in his chest. His love for Y/N was unwavering, but the fear of losing her — of losing this family he cherished — clawed at him, demanding to be confronted.

“I’m not pulling away,” he said, the edge in his voice betraying his defensiveness. “I’m trying, damn it, I’m trying. You think I don’t know how hard this has been on you?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, her composure fraying. “Trying isn’t enough! You have to be here, really be here with us, not just going through the motions. I feel alone in this, Kihyun,” her admission was soft-spoken yet held a weight that filled the entire space between them. “Your job has taken priority over us. I missed the man who would rather cut his day short to be with me. To spend time with me while our baby was still in my belly. I miss the partner who would prioritize our family over work. Kihyun, I need you.”

Silence fell upon the room as the words hung in the air, each syllable inflicting hurt. For a heartbeat, Kihyun was at a loss; the prospect of his wife’s loneliness — seeded by his own shortcomings — left him feeling both mad and worried. He was Mad at himself for letting it get this far and genuinely concerned that he could lose her if he didn’t make real changes.

Finally, Kihyun closed the distance between them. He reached for Y/N’s hands, taking them into his own as a gesture of reconciliation. “I... I can’t bear the thought of being without you, without Nari. I’ve been so caught up in making a living I forgot to make a life with you both.”

Tears shimmered in Y/N’s eyes, a mix of frustration and the first twinges of hope. “Kihyun, I don’t want to walk this path without you, but I can’t do it alone. We’re supposed to be partners.”

His voice broke as he pulled her into a hug, the kind that sought to mend what had frayed at the edges. “No more excuses,” he whispered.

Kihyun’s barely audible whisper was heavy with the gravity of his understanding. The silent tremors of his body against hers communicated more than words ever could — the depth of his regret and his promise’s earnestness.

Y/N’s arms hesitantly wrapped around him, her touch tentative as if she feared that too firm a grip might shatter the fragile moment. Her voice was a ghost of sound, almost lost in the canvas of night. “I believe that you want to change, Kihyun, I do. But it has to be more than just a promise. Actions, not just words.”

He could feel the resolve in her voice, the unyielding intent of a woman who had weathered storms and stood her ground. Kihyun pulled back slightly, just enough to search her eyes, which were pools reflecting his commitment to reformation. “I know that, Y/N. And you’re right. You and Nari deserve better from me, and I’ll give you nothing less. I’ll make it my priority.”

Y/N released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held, her heart wanting fiercely to lean into the hope that spread beneath her ribs like the first blush of dawn. But part of her guarded that hope shielded it with a caveat born of past disappointments.

“You have to, Kihyun,” she said, her words a quiet ultimatum laced with the last strands of her patience. “I can’t... I won’t keep picking up the pieces on my own. If we’re thrown aside again — if I’m thrown aside — I can’t stay. Not like this.”

Kihyun felt the sting of her words, an ache that threatened to constrict his throat. The envisioned future — a bleak landscape devoid of her and Nari’s smiles — propelled him into fervency. “I understand. I do. That won’t happen. I’ll put you both first. I’ll be the husband and the father you both need.” With a gentle smile, Kihyun whispered words that echoed with sincerity, “Together, we will weather any storm.”

He wiped away any stray tears that fell from her face, his face now full of love. She knew his walls had crumbled the moment Nari caught their ugly argument. She had hoped for their daughters sake those walls would remain down for as long as they were alive.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed. I’ll shoot a quick message to everyone and cancel all my meetings tomorrow so we can have a nice day out. Maybe we can head to Jeju for the day. Whatever you and Nari want to do, I’ll make it happen.”

Y/N felt a flicker of surprise and guarded elation at his words, her heart daring to hope that things might actually be different this time. His eyes, open and earnest, were windows to the vulnerability he rarely showed anymore. His determination to prioritize their family was not just a temporary dam against the flood of emotions but a foundational change in the architecture of his priorities.

“Jeju sounds wonderful,” Y/N nodded, her voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of cautious optimism. The idea of a family outing was like a tentative step on a new path, their own winding road toward healing.

Kihyun reached for his phone, moving with purpose, his thumbs flying across the screen as he sent the necessary messages to clear his schedule — a tangible first step that Y/N witnessed. This small yet significant olive branch signaled his commitment to their future.

Their eyes met again, and the air hummed with the quiet but fervent promise of new beginnings. As Kihyun’s lips upturned into a hopeful smile, Y/N allowed herself a moment of reprieve from the guarded walls she had built around her heart.

“It’s a new day tomorrow for all of us,” he said, embracing the dual promise of daylight and the laughter of the ones he loved most. Kihyun nodded, his heart lighter with every canceled meeting, a symbolic shedding of the weights that had previously shackled him to a life out of balance.

“I’ll go get ready for bed,” she murmured, lifting her gaze to his just once more before retreating to the sanctity of their bedroom. Her eyes caught a glimpse of his screen, which showed Minhyuk’s name. Her heart skipped a beat, and a mix of curiosity and uncertainty washed over her. She could only hope his message was an apology.

After all, Minhyuk was his best friend.