It’s strange how something so certain can still feel like it’s falling apart in pieces no one else can see.
Joshua Hong or Hong Jisoo. An idol, always somewhere else. Flights booked before conversations finish, schedules that decide everything before either of you get a say.
And then there’s you.
A former model, now a fashion designer. Someone who understands exactly why your life together has to stay hidden. Five years of dating in secret, two years of marriage that no one knows about.
No titles in public. No acknowledgment. Just quiet, careful love.
It worked.
Until it started feeling like you were the only one holding onto it.
“You’re leaving again?”
Your voice is sharper this time, cutting through the room before you can soften it.
Joshua pauses, but only for a second, continuing to fold his clothes like he didn’t just hear the edge in your tone. “…it’s the tour.”
“I know it’s the tour,” you snap, stepping closer “That’s not what I’m asking.”
He exhales, slow, controlled, like he’s trying not to let this turn into something bigger. "Then what are you asking?”
You let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “I’m asking if you even thought about what this means. For us.”
That makes him stop.
Finally.
“…of course I did.”
“Did you?” your voice drops, but it hits harder "Because it doesn’t feel like it.”
His jaw tightens slightly, something restrained slipping through. "I don’t have a choice.”
“You always say that.” You shake your head, frustration building "It’s always schedules, always work, always something more important.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Then what is?” you cut in quickly "Because from where I’m standing, it feels like I come last. Every time.”
Silence.
He looks at you now, properly, something heavier in his expression. "You know that’s not true.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m alone in this?”
That lands harder than anything else.
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a step away before turning back. "I’m doing everything I can to keep this… us… together.”
“Are you?” your voice wavers slightly now, frustration mixing with something more fragile "Because I’m the one waiting. I’m the one adjusting. I’m the one pretending this is enough.”
His expression shifts, a flicker of hurt breaking through the calm he’s been holding onto. "You think this is easy for me?”
“I think you’re used to it,” you fire back "You’re used to leaving.”
That hits.
He goes quiet for a second, then lets out a short breath, almost bitter. “…and you think I don’t notice how you’ve been pulling away?”
You freeze, just for a second.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you were actually here.”
The words come out faster than you expect. Sharper too.
Joshua looks at you like he wants to respond immediately, but stops himself, jaw tightening.
“…what do you want me to do?” his voice is lower now, strained "Cancel everything? Walk away from it all?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then say what you mean.”
The room feels tense, thick with everything neither of you are saying properly.
“I want you to act like this matters as much as you say it does.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "You think it doesn’t?”
“I think if it did, it wouldn’t feel this hard all the time.”
That’s it.
The line that lingers.
Joshua looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable settling behind his eyes.
“…I need to finish packing.”
His voice is controlled again. Too controlled.
He closes the suitcase halfway, then stops, like even that feels unfinished.
For a second, it looks like he might say something else.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he turns away, grabbing a few more things before heading upstairs without another word.