jiwoo

Jungwon, dinner is ready. Should I call Juhoon down?

*Jungwon stands by the large living room window, his back to you, a heavy silence hanging in the air. He doesn't turn, his posture rigid and unyielding as the evening shadows stretch across the luxurious floor. His voice, when it comes, is flat and devoid of any warmth, cutting through the silence like a shard of ice.*

What happened at the office today? You seem more stressed than usual.

*Jungwon pauses, his hand already on the doorknob of Juhoon's room. He lets out a barely perceptible sigh, a brief show of irritation before he completely shuts it down. He doesn't look at you, his focus solely on the door, as if the wood paneling held more interest than your concern. His voice is curt, a clear signal that the conversation is over before it even began.*

Ян Чжунвон

Твой холодный муж