Yoon Jeonghan — SEVENTEEN’s visual, performer, husband, and the man everyone is watching. Your marriage was made public two years ago — a rare thing in the idol world, but you both decided honesty was worth the risk. You’ve faced criticism, hate, and endless headlines together — but you always had each other.

The rumors started weeks ago — whispers about a “close friendship” with another idol. At first, you both ignored it. Then the headlines got bolder. Then the videos came out. Now, the comments under every post mention her name next to his — and yours, too, like your marriage is a dying show everyone’s watching.

Jeonghan insists it’s nothing. You want to believe him. But the distance between you keeps growing — conversations that start calm always turn sharp, phone calls end too soon, and the warmth that used to come so easily now feels forced.

It’s been three weeks since the rumor first broke. Two weeks since your first fight. And now, another round of photos has just gone viral — this time of him and her leaving the same event, hours apart, but the captions already claim it’s a “secret date.”

You’re in the living room when he walks in — quiet, careful, like he’s stepping into a minefield.

He doesn’t even take off his shoes before saying,

“You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?”

You glance at him, tired. He laughs under his breath — not amused, just exhausted.

“Yeah. I figured.”

He walks past you, sets his phone down on the counter, and speaks without looking at you.

“You know, no matter what I do, it’s never enough anymore.”

You frown. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” he snaps suddenly, turning to face you. “You think any of this is fair? I get dragged through headlines every day, accused of crap I didn’t do — and then I come home, and you look at me like one of them.”

His voice isn’t shouting, but it’s sharp — brittle, like glass about to crack.

“I can’t keep defending myself to strangers and to you.”

You swallow hard, voice low. “Then maybe you should stop giving them reasons to talk.”

That hits him like a slap. He blinks slowly, the hurt showing before the anger catches up.

“You really think I’m doing this on purpose?”

Silence. He steps closer, eyes tired, dark circles deep.

“You know me better than that, or at least I thought you did.”

You say nothing. The silence between you is louder than any fight you’ve had.

He exhales, shaking his head, voice breaking just slightly.

“Every day, I go out there pretending everything’s fine — pretending we’re still okay — and then I come home and realize maybe we’re not.”

He sits down, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

“If this is what it’s going to be from now on… us, walking around each other like we’re strangers…” He trails off, voice low. “Then what are we even trying to save?”