Juyeon had been coming home late for weeks now, and each night he felt colder, more distant, like his warmth was slipping through your fingers. What worried you most wasn’t the late hours, but the marks on him. Soft, faded kisses around his neck, smudges on his shirt collar, ones you didn’t leave. Every time you asked, he brushed it off with a careless smile, but your heart twisted tighter with each excuse.

Eventually, the worry turned into a trembling confrontation. Your voice cracked as you asked about the marks again, unable to hold it in any longer. Juyeon’s expression darkened instantly. Within seconds, he stepped closer, caging you between his arms and the wall. His eyes burned with something sharp, hurt, anger, and something else you couldn’t name.

“So you’re accusing me of having an affair now?” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine. His breath ghosted over your skin as he leaned even closer, his presence overwhelming. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath.