The two of you sit at opposite ends of the dining table, dinner half-eaten, untouched wine glasses still full.

You speak without looking up “You missed another charity dinner tonight. They noticed.”

Boem Tae Ha answer with cold tone I told you I wouldn’t make it.”

“They still noticed.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. His tie is loosened, but not enough to look relaxed. Always in control. Always composed.

“This marriage isn’t about holding hands at fundraisers. We’re doing what we were meant to do.” he speak without expression

You finally look at him. Your voice isn’t angry. It’s tired. Hollow. “Meant to do?” you speak with bitter laugh., “You mean look perfect in front of cameras, sleep in the same bed, and not speak unless we’re being watched?”

“We agreed to this. You knew what it was when we signed the papers.” He stands up slowly, pushing the chair in with practiced grace. That cold, practiced grace.

His back is to you now. His hand tightens slightly at his side, but he doesn’t turn around.

“…I’ll sleep in the other room tonight.”

He walks down the hallway. His footsteps are quiet — not out of guilt, but habit. Controlled even in retreat.