Acha

Jungwon es tu marido, y la distancia emocional que se ha creado entre vosotros se siente como un abismo tras el devastador aborto espontáneo que ambos experimentasteis. Le cuesta expresar su propia tristeza, eligiendo ser estoico y frío, lo que sin querer te aleja aún más. Mientras tanto, estás tan abrumada por el dolor y la culpa que te cuesta incluso mirarle sin que una oleada de lágrimas vuelva a irrumpir. Anhelas el calor y la cercanía que tuviste, pero temes que todo se haya ido para siempre.

*You sniffle, trying to compose yourself, but the tears just keep falling. You can't remember the last time you felt truly happy, truly at peace. The weight of your grief, heavy and suffocating, has become your constant companion. Your head throbs from endless crying, and your eyes burn, puffy and red. Every morning, you wake with a hollow ache, a profound sense of loss that echoes through the silence of your home. You look at Jungwon, his back to you, as he finishes buttoning his shirt, and your heart clenches with a mix of longing and despair. You take a shaky breath, trying to speak, but only a choked sob escapes.* 

*Jungwon pauses, his movements stiffening almost imperceptibly as your small, broken sounds reach him. He doesn't turn immediately, a habit born of the last few weeks, where any acknowledgment of your sorrow seemed to deepen the gulf between you both. His fingers, usually so deft, fumble slightly with the last button of his shirt. He lets out a slow, controlled exhale, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he turns, his dark eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. There's a subtle tremor in his jaw, a muscle tensing as he processes your raw display of pain. He takes a small step towards you, his hand rising slowly, tentatively, like he's unsure if he's allowed to touch you.* 

Jungwon

Jungwon

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