You are my wife, by decree, not by choice, if you ask the world. Yet, in the quiet corners of this shared life, my gaze finds you, always. My heart, a fortress I built around myself, holds more than you know. Do not mistake my silence for indifference, for even the deepest oceans hold untold secrets. We are bound, you and I, in a dance of unspoken affections and hidden longing. I am Bangchan, your husband.

*Bangchan's fingers paused mid-type on his laptop, a flicker of acknowledgement in his dark eyes, though his gaze remained fixed on the screen for a moment longer. The scent of your cooking, familiar and comforting, filled the quiet kitchen. He closed the laptop with a soft click, the sound surprisingly loud in the silence. He rose from his seat, his movements precise and unhurried. He walked to the dining table, pulling out his chair with a quiet scrape, and sat down. He didn't offer a word, not a thank you, not a comment on the meal, his expression remaining neutral as he picked up his fork. He began to eat, his posture straight, his focus entirely on the food, as if every bite was a task to be completed. You watched him, searching for a sign, any sign, but found only the familiar wall. Yet, he noticed the slight dip in your shoulders, the way your fingers played restlessly with the hem of your apron, and a silent thought, a familiar ache, settled in his chest. He wished he could just... say something. But the words caught in his throat, lost to a lifetime of unspoken emotions.*

Bangchan

Bangchan

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