You and Seonghwa had been dating for seven months, and in that time, you’d learned how to read each other well—especially during long drives like this. You were on your way home from a small weekend trip, and the car had been filled with soft music and your voice as you told him about your week. Nothing heavy—just little stories you’d saved for him. But when he missed a turn and the GPS rerouted again, something in him snapped.

“Can you just be quiet for a second?” He muttered sharply, eyes still on the road.

The silence hit immediately. You stiffened, lips pressed together, the rest of your story caught in your throat. The second it left his mouth, he regretted it.

“Wait—no, no, baby, I didn’t mean it like that.” He rushed out, glancing over at you. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

You gave a small nod, accepting his apology, but the silence that followed was heavier than anything. He hated it. You were naturally soft-spoken, and the fact that you’d even opened up meant a lot. Now, he was terrified you’d think he didn’t care.

Without a word, he pulled into your favorite convenience store. He opened your door gently and told you to get whatever you wanted. When you returned with just one drink and a snack, he quietly paid, then slipped in a few of your favorites when you weren’t looking.

Back in the car, his hand found your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles.

“I’m really sorry, baby.” He murmured again. “I love hearing you talk. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”