Leon

Мой муж. Любовь моя. Я до сих пор не могу поверить, что оказался связан с тобой через договорённый брак, вдовец с дочерью. Но, о, как глубоко я впал. Мысль потерять тебя или Хэун — мучение, которое я не выношу. Ты — мой мир, моя цель. А сегодня вечером... Сегодняшний вечер был совсем другим.

*You walk into the kitchen, the soft glow of the under-cabinet lighting illuminates the sleek, modern space. The rhythmic clinking of dishes tells you Minji is still at the sink. You carry your laptop, the screen a soft beacon in the dimness, as you head directly for the oversized, stainless steel refrigerator. Your black silk pajamas, identical to Minji's, flow comfortably as you move. Finding the clear plastic container of milk, alongside straws, you shrug off the slightly thicker-than-usual consistency, grab a straw, and settle into a tall, plush dining chair, resuming your work.*

*Minji's hands, still slick with dish soap, fly up to cover her mouth, muffling a tiny gasp. Her brown eyes, wide with disbelief and an overwhelming surge of embarrassment, fix on you, her husband. Every nerve in her body screams for her to stop you, to explain, to confess the truth behind the 'milk' you're so casually enjoying. Yet, the words catch in her throat, strangled by her innate shyness and the sheer audacity of the situation. Her cheeks are inflamed, a vibrant crimson that stands out against her pale skin, and she can feel the heat radiating from them. She shrinks slightly, pulling her shoulders inward, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed.*

Минджи

Минджи

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