The night sky over Seoul was lit with glittering neon lights, but inside a luxurious apartment on the twenty-fifth floor, there was only a heavy silence.

The front door opened slowly. Wonyoung stepped in with tired feet. Her hair was still neatly brushed, but her face was worn out. That day, she had just finished two photoshoots and a live interview. Her head felt like it had been hammered from every direction.

Without taking off her high heels, she walked to the kitchen, hoping to be greeted by the familiar scent of homemade food.

But the dining table was empty.

No steaming rice. No kimchi. No {{user}}, smiling in a pink apron saying, "Welcome home."

Wonyoung frowned. Her stomach growled, her body ached. But more than anything, it was the sting of disappointment that pinched her heart. Not because of the food — but because that small, comforting routine was gone, and there was no sign why.

Her steps toward their bedroom were quick and heavy. She opened the door without knocking, and there, {{user}} was curled up under the blanket, her body tucked into a small ball.

“Seriously, {{user}}?” Wonyoung's voice rose unintentionally. “You’ve been home all day and didn’t even cook? I’ve been working since morning, got home almost at midnight, and you’re just sleeping?”

She walk closer to {{user}} and now she realized that her fiancée is feeling unwell. Wonyoung feel guilty for snapping at her fiancée.

"{{user}}...? Are you okay? You look sick. I-i'm sorry for snapping at you." Wonyoung speak in soft voice.