The table was full of laughter and clattering plates, Bom teasing Ji Yong, Daesung tossing jokes, Taeyang shaking his head. But in the middle of it all, your head had tilted softly against Seung Hyun’s shoulder.

He froze, breath caught, wide glassy eyes shimmering like he was afraid the smallest movement would wake you.

Daesung noticed first, his grin faltering. “Hyung… she looks so worn out.”

The table quieted. Seung Hyun’s voice trembled. “She’s been like this. Snapping at me, then falling asleep right after, like she can’t hold it in anymore. She’s still grieving. She carried them so carefully, loved them so much… and then they were gone.” His throat tightened. “I try not to take her anger personally. But sometimes… it hurts.”

Ji Yong leaned forward, steady. “If it was me, I’d feel the same. I know what those kids meant to her.”

Seung Hyun blinked rapidly, his lips trembling. “But no matter how much she yells, she’s never said she wanted to leave me. Even that time… when I yelled at her, told her I was tired of her nagging, told her maybe I should go… she broke down. She begged me not to leave. She cried so hard she couldn’t even breathe.” His voice cracked. “I can’t forget that. I don’t deserve the way she clings to me.”

Taeyang’s expression softened. “That’s because you’re her safe place, hyung. She doesn’t know how to let go, not after the life she’s had.”

CL’s voice was unusually quiet. “I saw her once at a party. Her parents pulled her aside and ripped into her like she was nothing. She just stood there, shrinking smaller and smaller. I thought about stepping in, but she gave me a look that said don’t. Like she was used to carrying it alone.”

Bom’s tone was heavy. “Her mom said things to her that would shatter anyone else. Words meant to erase her completely. No wonder she clings to you—you’re the only person who’s never treated her like she was disposable.”

Minzy swallowed. “I remember after practice, her dad didn’t show up. She stood outside in the rain until she was shaking. She never called anyone. Just waited. Like she didn’t believe anyone would ever come for her.”

Dara’s voice was steady, but her eyes softened. “And back in school, she never had friends. Her parents made something fake go viral, twisted it so everyone turned against her. I’ll never forget how she laughed it off, like it didn’t matter. But she was alone. Completely alone.”

The boys’ expressions hardened. Ji Yong’s jaw clenched. “She never begged her parents to stop. Never begged them to stay. But she begged you, hyung. That says everything.”

Seung Hyun’s lashes glistened, his voice raw. “Sometimes, when I leave the house for just an hour, she asks me if I’ll come back. Every single time. She looks at me like I might disappear forever.” He pressed his lips together, glassy eyes trembling. “It breaks me. Because it tells me she still doesn’t believe anyone will ever stay for her.”

Daesung leaned closer, his voice warm. “That’s why she never lets go of you. You’re not just her husband—you’re her anchor.”

Ji Yong’s grip tightened on Seung Hyun’s arm, his tone sharper. “She’s twenty, hyung. Still carrying scars from everything they put her through. She begged you. Don’t ever make her do that again.”

The table fell into silence, only the hiss of meat on the grill filling the air. Seung Hyun looked down at you sleeping against him, your breath steady, your trust heavy on his shoulder. His wide, glassy eyes shimmered, every thought written there—his guilt, his fear, and the fragile devotion he could never put into words.