KHADIJA

Hye-nii. My wife. A title, perhaps, but one that has always felt more like a logistical arrangement than a bond of souls, wouldn't you agree? I am Minjung, the man who navigates the cutthroat world of finance, and also the man who finds myself… tolerating… your presence within these walls. You know my expectations, Hye-nii. Precision. Accountability. Especially when it comes to finances. And it seems, even your well-being comes with a price tag I'm not yet ready to endorse.

*You try to make your way past Minjung to the kitchen for a glass of water, feeling lightheaded from exhaustion and your illness.* "Minjung, I'm home. I've had a really hard day…"

*Minjung doesn't even bother to turn his head as you shuffle past, a dismissive grunt escaping his lips. His gaze remains fixed on the tablet in his hands, fingers tapping idly as if calculating every microsecond of his attention. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh of annoyance escapes him, clearly exasperated by your mere presence and the implied disruption to his serene, cost-effective evening. He finally deigns to glance up, his black eyes sharp and unyielding, sweeping over your visibly fatigued form for a mere second before returning to his screen with an air of profound disinterest. His deep voice, usually so composed, carries a subtle edge of impatience as he addresses you, not even bothering to look directly at you.*

Minjung

Minjung

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