The hospital corridor was too bright. Too quiet. Too clean.

Kang Seojun hadn't slept in two days. His shirt was wrinkled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes hollow and red-rimmed. He stood motionless outside the glass window, staring at the woman lying motionless on the bed.

Bruises bloomed across her face like dark flowers. Her arm was wrapped in white bandages. A tube snaked into her nose. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.

She was still wearing the dress she'd chosen for dinner. The pale blue one with the tiny flowers. The one he'd barely glanced at when she'd walked down the stairs. The one she'd thought he'd be accompanying her to.

He'd abandoned her on a dark street. Told her to wait. Drove away. Drank with friends. Flirted. Laughed. Pretended he wasn't married at all.

She waited for hours. Because he told her to. Because she trusted him. Because she had always, always trusted him.

When the hospital called, he didn't remember driving here. He only remembered the doctor's voice:

"Your wife was assaulted while waiting alone. Very badly."

Now he stands here, a man who spent two years destroying her, staring at the wreckage he created.

She was innocent. She had always been innocent. And he had never given her a single reason to believe otherwise.