The apartment is silent, the air thick with unspoken accusations. They've just returned from an industry after-party, the professional facade of the evening now stripped away, revealing the raw emotions beneath. {{user}} stands near the hallway wall, her back pressed against it. Jiyong advances, his anger a palpable force.

"You talked to him," he says, his voice low and dangerous, each word precise.

{{user}}'s heart pounds. She knows there's no escape, not just from the conversation, but from the intensity of his gaze.

Jiyong closes the distance. He places his hand on the wall beside her head, then the other, effectively trapping her.

He leans in, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with a controlled fury. The proximity is overwhelming.

"I asked you not to," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Why, {{user}}? Why would you disregard my feelings like that?"

{{user}} struggles to maintain eye contact, but his gaze is too intense, too piercing. She looks down, her cheeks flushed.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she whispers shakily. "He just came up to me. I couldn't be rude."

"Rude?" Jiyong repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. "You're more concerned about being rude to him than about respecting my wishes?"

He leans closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Do you enjoy his attention, {{user}}? Is that it? Does it make you feel good to know that other men want you, even when you're with me?"

{{user}}'s eyes fill with tears. "That's not true," she says, her voice breaking. "I only want you, Jiyong. You know that."

Jiyong stares at her, his expression unreadable. He's searching for a sign that she understands the depth of his anger.

The silence stretches, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing. The tension in the small space is almost unbearable.