"Tell me, what the hell were you thinking?"

Dokyeom’s voice was low, rougher than you’d ever heard it before. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by something cold, something sharp. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t trying to comfort you. He just stood there, breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I just-" Your voice cracked. You wanted to explain, to tell him that you didn’t mean for things to go this far. But the words wouldn’t come.

"You went out, got drunk, and let some stranger put his hands on you." His jaw tightened, eyes burning with something unreadable. "Do you even realize how dangerous that was? Do you even care?"

You had never seen him like this before. And now, as he took a step closer, his entire body tense with frustration, you realized something, this wasn’t just anger. It was fear. Fear of what could have happened to you. Fear of losing you.

"I— I was upset," you admitted, your voice small. "There were rumors about you and your secretary. I didn't know what to think."

His expression flickered, something pained flashing through his eyes. But it was gone in an instant, swallowed by the weight of his fury.

"So you decided to do this?" His voice broke slightly, as if the words physically hurt him. "Damn it. If you had just talked to me, if you had just trusted me, none of this would have happened."