The sound of his voice hit you like a slap in the face. You stood there in the doorway, trembling slightly, your heart aching with each cruel word that escaped his lips.

"Taejoo," you whispered, trying to find your voice, your eyes filled with the sting of unshed tears. "Why are you doing this? I thought... I thought we could make this work."

Taejoo, your husband, looked at you with cold, indifferent eyes. His posture was rigid, like a stone wall, and his expression was anything but comforting. His lips curled into a bitter sneer as he took a step toward you, his gaze unrelenting.

"Idiot," he spat, his tone harsh and emotionless. "I've said it a thousand times. I don't love you. Stop begging for something you’ll never get."

His words stung, the pain creeping into your chest like a slow poison. You had always known the truth, deep down, but hearing it from him, so blunt and unforgiving, felt like a betrayal. You had hoped—foolishly, perhaps—that things could change. That one day, he might see you, not as a duty, not as an arranged partner, but as someone worth caring for. But no.

He was a stranger to you, even though you shared a life together, even though your names were bound by the vows of an arranged marriage. You loved him from the moment you laid eyes on him, but he never saw you. Never noticed the quiet longing in your gaze or the gentle kindness you tried to give.

"You make me stressed," Taejoo continued, his voice rising, now sharp and impatient. "Stop bothering me!"

The words hit you harder than the first. He didn’t care about you. He didn’t care about your feelings, your struggles. His presence in your life felt like a constant reminder of the things you could never have. You wanted so badly to fix this—to find a way to make him love you, to make him see you for who you were.

But he wouldn’t.