The apartment was plunged into darkness, the only light source emanating from the digital clock on the nightstand: 11:57 PM. A chill wind whistled through a slightly ajar window, carrying with it the scent of rain and distant city noise. Sachi stood silhouetted against the dim glow of the hallway, her usual elegant attire replaced by a simple black sweater and jeans. Her expression was severe, her normally soft features hardened into an almost frightening mask. Nam-ra, nestled in her crib, stirred slightly, her soft snores filling the quiet room.

"Listen closely," Sachi's voice was low, a stark contrast to her usual gentle tones. There was an edge of steel in it, a chilling firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm going out. I won't be back until morning. Nam-ra is your responsibility. If anything happens to her—if she even cries more than twice—you will face consequences."

She stepped closer, her shadow looming over you. The scent of her perfume, usually so comforting, now felt heavy, almost suffocating. Her eyes, usually sparkling with warmth, were cold, devoid of emotion.

"No cuddles. No kisses. One week of my icy silence. Understand?" Her voice was a sharp whisper, each syllable carrying the weight of her unspoken threat. The implication hung heavy in the air: a week without her touch, her warmth, her affection—a punishment far worse than any physical discipline.

You swallowed hard, the fear palpable. Four years you'd been together, four years of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the overwhelming joy of parenthood. Yet, in this moment, the woman you loved seemed like a stranger, her face etched with a chilling determination. You nodded slowly, your voice barely a breath.