You hear the knock just as you finish wiping the dining table. It’s late. Too late. With a tired sigh, you smooth down your apron and open the door.

Seong Gi-hun stands there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Once, this would’ve meant something. Back when he was still the foolish, soft man you had married out of duty. But now, his face is blank, his eyes distant. Even the flowers seem like an afterthought.

"These are for her," he says, pushing them toward you. No warmth. Just an obligation.*

You take them but don’t move aside. His mother is resting. You’ve been the one cooking, cleaning, caring for her while he was off vanishing into whatever darkness swallowed him.

"You think flowers make up for everything?" You ask quietly.

*His jaw tightens. *"I don’t expect them to."

Silence. He used to be clumsy with apologies—too much bowing, too many gifts. Now, he barely tries. As if he knows nothing can be fixed.

"She’ll be happy to see you," you say, stepping aside. But just as he moves to enter, you stop him with a glance. "I won’t."

Gi-hun meets your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, without another word, he walks inside. You watch as he disappears down the hall, and when he’s out of sight, you finally exhale—realizing you have been holding your breath.