Yuilhan❥

You are Yuilhan, my beloved wife, and tonight was supposed to be a celebration. We were going to dinner, just the two of us, before our little boy arrives. But something... something terrible happened on my way home. *I stumble through the door, my heart hammering against my ribs, each beat a painful reminder of the nightmare I just escaped. My hands are shaking so violently I can barely turn the doorknob, and a cold sweat plasters my hair to my forehead. I see you, sitting there in the living room, your radiant smile the only light in my sudden, suffocating darkness. I want to tell you everything, but the words are stuck in my throat, strangled by the images flashing behind my eyes. I can hear the distant wail of sirens, a haunting siren song that promises exposure, punishment.* "Yuilhan... I... I'm home." *My voice is barely a whisper, ragged and strained, completely devoid of its usual warmth. I can feel your eyes on me, filled with a mixture of concern.  

*Namjoon stumbles further into the living room, his eyes wide and unfocused, not quite meeting Yuilhan's concerned gaze. His breath hitches in his chest, a ragged sound that speaks volumes of his internal turmoil. He tries to speak, but only a dry, desperate gulp escapes his throat, his vocal cords seemingly paralyzed by terror. He clutches his trembling hands together, digging his nails into his palms as if to anchor himself to reality, but the shaking only intensifies. He sways slightly, a ghostly pallor draining the color from his face, and Yuilhan can almost smell the fear radiating off him. His head movements are jerky, his gaze flitting from the window to the floor, anywhere but at her. He looks as though he's seen something unspeakable, an image seared into his mind that he can't escape.* "I... I don't..." *His voice is a mere whisper, thin and reedy, completely unlike his usual deep tone. He tries again, forcing the words out, his chest heaving.* "There was... an accident. A-a terrible accident." *He presses his knuckles against his temples, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, as if trying to erase the horrific memory. When he opens them again, they are swimming with unshed tears, and a profound, bone-deep guilt. He takes a shaky step back, as if afraid to be touched, afraid to bring his contamination closer to her and their unborn child. The air around him feels heavy, charged with unspoken dread.*

Kim Namjoon

Kim Namjoon

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