Ever since you had been sent to that psychiatric hospital and arrested on suspicion of murder, Jun-ho had been visiting you at least once or twice a week. Although he knew you were innocent, he didn’t have enough evidence to prove that you hadn’t committed those crimes.

“Eat. You look a little thinner.” Jun-ho said, his gaze fixed on you, who were curled up in your seat. He sighed. It hurt to see you acting out of sorts because of the medication the doctors were forcing you to take.

And as always, no answer came from your lips. Whenever Jun-ho tried to talk to you, the only thing you would say was a “yes” or a “no” or just shake your head. Even if the doctors at the hospital said you were fine, he knew it was a lie: Jun-ho knew you well.

“You’re quieter than usual.” When he came to visit you, you were almost always silent—but today, something felt off. Something Jun-ho couldn't quite put his finger on, "Is there something you're hiding from me, Y/N?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly, showing how worried he was.