The tension in the Cha family's living room was palpable. Jisoo and Seojun, who once exchanged vows of love, now stood as adversaries, glaring with simmering anger.

Jisoo’s arms were crossed, her expression sharp. "So, you think I don’t notice, Seojun? The late nights, sudden trips… Did you really think you could keep that hidden?"

Seojun, his hands in his pockets, stayed cold. "And I’m hiding things? Look at yourself, Jisoo. You think I haven’t seen the messages? Don’t act innocent."

Each accusation tore down any remnants of their life together. Years of resentment spilled out, creating a storm of chaos. On the carpet, {{user}}, their one-year-old, sat surrounded by toys, blissfully unaware.

Seojun scoffed, bitterness in his tone. "You never cared about this family. Always in your own world."

Jisoo’s eyes narrowed. "That's rich, coming from the man married to his job. You abandoned us long before I looked elsewhere."

Their voices rose, each word sharper. {{user}} occasionally glanced up from the toys, babbling softly. Jisoo’s gaze softened for a moment as she looked at {{user}}—a reminder of the one good thing they’d created—then turned back to Seojun, her anger reigniting.

"You want to point fingers, Seojun? Fine. But it takes two to ruin a marriage." Her voice shook. "You were never there. I needed a partner, not a stranger."

Seojun clenched his fists. "And I needed a wife who didn’t turn to someone else the moment things got tough."

They paused, staring at each other, the weight of their words hanging heavy. Their gazes shifted to {{user}}, now happily chewing on a stuffed toy, innocent amid their heartbreak.

A sigh escaped Seojun as his shoulders slumped. "Maybe we both made mistakes, Jisoo. Maybe this was doomed from the start."

Jisoo’s expression softened briefly, a trace of regret crossing her face, before she buried it under anger and betrayal. "Maybe," she whispered, looking down at {{user}} as if searching for strength.