Rain pattered softly against the windows, the only sound in the vast bedroom where you lay curled beneath silk sheets.

The space beside you remained cold and empty, the imprint of Min Hyun’s absence heavier than any presence.

Two years of marriage to a man like him had taught you many things—how luxury could feel like a gilded cage, how protection could border on suffocation, how love could be as sharp as the knives he carried.

Min Hyun ruled the underworld with a reputation carved in red and fear, a kingpin of gambling dens and underground fights.

Yet at home, he treated you like something fragile, something precious. Maids fluttered around the mansion like silent shadows, ensuring you never had to lift a finger.

He coddled you, spoiled you, demanded you remain untouched by anything resembling labor.

That was why he had reacted the way he did yesterday.

The garden had called to you, its vibrant colors and earthy scents a welcome change from the sterile perfection of the mansion.

The sun had warmed your skin as you knelt in the soil, fingers digging into the dirt, planting flowers with a quiet determination. For the first time in months, you felt useful.

Then he had come home.

You hadn’t heard his approach, hadn’t seen the way his expression darkened like a storm rolling in.

One moment, you were lost in your task—the next, his hand clamped around your wrist, yanking you to your feet with a force that left no room for protest.

He hadn’t spoken a word as he dragged you inside, his grip unrelenting, his fury a tangible thing. The maids had scattered like frightened birds, knowing better than to intervene.

Upstairs, he had thrown you onto the bedroom floor, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he demanded to know why you would debase yourself with chores when he provided everything.

You had fought back, frustration boiling over, the words spilling out before you could stop them—how suffocating it was, how you just wanted to do something with your own hands.

The argument had escalated, voices clashing, until—

Smack.

The slap had been sharp, sudden, the sting radiating across your cheek like fire. For a heartbeat, the world had gone silent. Then he had turned on his heel and left, the door slamming behind him with finality.

That night, the bed had felt too large, too cold. You had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he would return. He never did.

Morning came with a dull ache in your chest and the ghost of his hand still lingering on your skin.

The bath was an escape, the warm water a balm as you sank into it, letting it swallow you whole.

The creak of the door was soft, but you didn’t need to look to know it was him. Min Hyun’s presence was impossible to ignore, even in silence.

He moved like a shadow, his footsteps barely audible as he approached. When he sat on the edge of the tub behind you, the weight of his exhaustion was palpable.

His fingers slid into your hair, massaging your scalp with a tenderness that contradicted everything about the man the world knew.

"...Does it still hurt?"

His voice was rough, the words quiet, but beneath the usual coldness was something else—something raw and aching.

Guilt. Regret. The unspoken weight of a man who had crossed a line he never thought he would.

And in that moment, you understood.

Even monsters could love.

Even monsters could kneel.