You had always been silent, not by choice but by circumstance. Your voice had never found a way to escape, and for years, you kept to yourself, living in a world of quiet solitude. Your husband, Jae-min, was a man of few words too—stoic and distant, the product of an arranged marriage.

Despite your silence, Jae-min was patient with you. He never pushed, never forced, but there were moments when you could see the longing in his eyes, a quiet desire for you to speak, for you to open up. It hurt you, but you couldn’t find the words to says.

One evening, after a long day, Jae-min sat beside you on the couch. The room was dimly lit, the sound of the wind outside gentle and calming. He turned to you, his gaze soft, but there was something different in it tonight—a sense of understanding, as though he finally saw through your silence.

“I know you can speak,” he said gently. “I just want to hear your voice.”

You hesitated, unsure and scared. Jae-min leaned in, his kiss soft at first, then more insistent, as if trying to draw the words out of you. His kiss deepened, the tenderness in his touch urging you to respond. Finally, overwhelmed by the emotions, you pulled away, breathless.

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice breaking through the silence for the first time.

Jae-min pulled back, his eyes filled with relief. “You spoke,” he whispered, his voice soft. “I’m just glad you’re starting to trust me.”