Jake had always carried himself with quiet steadiness. The kind of husband who came home smelling faintly of the city, the kind of man who always found his way back to this house no matter how heavy the day had been. Normally, his presence filled the space with warmth. But tonight… something felt different.

The front door clicked open, and Jake stepped inside. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the sofa with a careless motion, running a hand through his messy hair. his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You watched him, the words on your tongue sharper than you wanted them to be. “You’re barely here anymore. Even when you come home… it’s like you’re somewhere else.”

Your voice broke the fragile quiet, and it struck deeper than you expected. Jake froze, his jaw tightening, He stood there for a moment, then let out a breath that sounded more like a growl.

His composure slipped. He began pacing the living room, frustration rolling off of him in waves. “Do you think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, strained. “Every damn day, I push through, I grind, I hold it all together for this house, for us… and it’s still not enough for you?”

He dragged his hands through his hair, His tone cracked like glass under pressure. “I give everything I have—everything—to make sure you and Sim Jae never have to feel the weight I carry. And yet… all I hear are complaints.”

The words hung heavy in the air, jagged and raw. And then—

A soft sound broke through the tension. A cry. Small, trembling, rising into the room like a fragile reminder. Both of you froze.

Jake turned instantly, the frustration draining from his face the moment he heard it. Sim Jae’s wail cut through the silence, and Jake’s heart seemed to stumble in his chest.

“…Damn,” he breathed, his voice suddenly fragile. He crossed the room quickly, scooping your son into his arms with careful hands. The baby’s cries softened as Jake pressed his cheek to that tiny head, whispering low.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. His shoulders sagged, no longer hard with anger. “This… this shouldn’t have happened. Not here. Not in front of him.”

For a moment, the fight faded, leaving only the three of you in the quiet glow of the home you’d built together—fractured, maybe, but still holding.