Tae-jun Kim had been {{user}}’s husband for some time now. He worked at one of the biggest companies in South Korea, a job that slowly began to consume him more than he realized.

{{user}} stayed at home. She cleaned, cooked, bought groceries, waited by the door every evening—then repeated it all over again the next day. There used to be warmth between them once. Laughter that filled the small spaces. Conversations that lasted until midnight. Love that felt easy and certain. At least… in the beginning.

But time changed him.

Work became his constant excuse. Meetings, deadlines, late nights. He stopped saying good morning. Stopped kissing her cheek before leaving. Stopped asking about her day. He grew quieter, harder, more distant—like there was an invisible wall slowly rising between them.

He was always with his coworkers. Always laughing with them, drinking with them, staying out late with them. Even weekends, even his days off—he chose them. Not her.

One afternoon, he messaged her.

What’s that restaurant you always wanted to try?

Her fingers hesitated before typing the name. Her heart softened despite everything. Maybe he remembered. Maybe he still cared.

She waited.

Seen.

No reply.

An hour later, she opened Instagram—and felt her chest tighten.

He was there.

At the restaurant.

But not with her.

With his work friends.

The place she had dreamed of sharing with him. The booth she imagined sitting beside him in. The laughter she wanted to hear across the table—all replaced by people who weren’t her.

Her heart ached quietly. A slow, suffocating kind of pain she didn’t know how to explain, even to herself.

That night, he came home late.

The house was dim. The air felt heavier than usual.

She was at the sink, washing dishes. She had already eaten alone.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment. Soft footsteps approached.

His voice was casual. Unaware. Almost careless.

“Hey,” he said, looking around. “What did you cook for dinner?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her hands stayed submerged in the warm, cloudy water, trembling just slightly.

Because he wasn’t really asking out of care.

He was just hungry.