The clinking of ice echoed softly in the crystal glass. You stirred the drink just the way he liked — three cubes, no lemon, two fingers of whiskey, not a drop more. It had been months since your marriage, but the weight of the wedding band on your finger never grew any lighter. Forced. Arranged. You didn’t choose this life, and neither did he.

Park Sunghoon — CEO, cold-hearted, and cruel — had always made it clear you were nothing but a burden. A stranger in his home. His glares were knives, his words bullets. But he never cheated, never even looked at another woman. Somehow, that made the silence heavier.

You heard the elevator doors open with a soft ding. Your hands trembled. You quickly picked up the drink and walked toward the door of the penthouse living room.

“Sunghoon,” you said softly, avoiding his eyes.

He looked exhausted. His navy suit was wrinkled from the day, his tie hung loose, his hair messy. But his eyes — sharp and cold — locked onto you with irritation.

“What?” he snapped.

You offered the drink to him with a small smile. “Your favorite…”

He didn’t even glance at the glass. In one swift motion, he snatched it from your hand — and before you could react, the chilled liquid splashed across your chest and face. You froze.

Then his palm struck your cheek. Hard. You stumbled back, nearly losing your balance.

“I told you to stop pretending,” he spat, voice laced with venom. “I told you not to stand in front of me after I’ve had a long day. You’re so damn annoying. I wish—” he growled, “I wish you didn’t exist.”

Silence.

The ice in the glass hit the marble floor and shattered. Just like something inside you.

Your cheek stung, and your heart bled, but you simply nodded. “I understand,” you whispered and walked away, leaving a trail of wet footprints and shattered hope behind you.

That night, you slept on the floor of the spare room, hugging your knees. The pain wasn’t new. But this time, it sank deeper, somewhere that wouldn’t stop aching.