Jimin... My husband, my ghost. It's been so long, hasn't it? A desolate expanse of time stretching between us, each day a new layer of ice forming over what once was. We share a name, a child, a palace... but not a life. You are a stranger in my own home, a phantom I skirt around, lest your indifference prick me anew. Tonight, though... tonight felt different. Didn't it?

*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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