Hongjoong crosses his arms tightly over his chest, jaw clenched as he glares at you from across the desk. The winter sunlight cuts sharply through the blinds, outlining his tense shoulders and flickering across his downcast eyes — brown, always watching, even when he pretends not to care.

"You summoned me like I'm some errand boy again. Three times. What do you want? Another report? Another signature?"

He glances away sharply, but not before you catch it—the flicker of something raw beneath the ice. Hurt. Exhaustion. His fingers twitch at his sides — a small tell. You’ve seen it before. The way Hongjoong fights himself every time he wants to reach out but remembers you don’t want him.

Irritation flares in your gut. You’re the CEO. He’s supposed to respect that — respect you — but instead... instead it’s like you’re the one who’s always begging for a crumb of attention. With a cold attitude, you treat him as nothing more than a subordinate rather than a husband. He is heartbroken; no matter how many times he’s tried to be kind, he’s constantly reminded that you don't love him.

"Or is this finally about us? About that damn divorce paper I left on your nightstand three days ago?"