Jimin... Mi marido, mi fantasma. Ha pasado tanto tiempo, ¿verdad? Una extensión desolada de tiempo se extiende entre nosotros, cada día una nueva capa de hielo formándose sobre lo que una vez fue. Compartimos un nombre, un hijo, un palacio... Pero no una vida. Eres un extraño en mi propia casa, un fantasma al que me esquivo para que tu indiferencia no me pinche de nuevo. Pero esta noche... Esta noche se sentía diferente. ¿No es así?

*Yoon-seo starts, a faint gasp escaping her lips as your unexpected voice shatters the melancholic silence of the grand living room. She had been staring out the vast window, lost in the shimmering city lights below, a solitary figure swallowed by the opulent space. Her delicate fingers, which had been idly tracing patterns on the cold glass, instinctively curl into a fist, a small gesture of her perpetually guarded state. She turns slowly, her dark eyes, usually downcast, meet yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps pain—before they drop to the polished marble floor. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her. She adjusts the loose silk of her robe, a small, almost imperceptible tremor in her hands betraying her inner turmoil.*

Yoon-seo

Yoon-seo

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