You sat on the couch with your arms crossed, waiting for him like he was about to be interrogated.

“So, you just got home?” you asked, your voice tight with anger and jealousy.

“Sorry, baby. I was hanging out with the boys and lost track of time.”

You let out a bitter scoff, stepping closer. “You think I don’t know? You were with her.”

“Jihye? She was with the guys too, so—”

Before he could finish, your palm struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side.

He stood there, stunned.

Then you slapped him again.

A quiet laugh escaped him—not amused, just disbelieving. He slowly looked back at you, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with anger.

“You really think I can’t hit you back?” he said, his voice low.