The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven as Tae-Seo finally pushed through the front door of the penthouse. He loosened his blood-red tie, the silk knot giving way with a tired sigh. Another 18-hour day. Another boardroom conquered. Another night coming home to a warzone.
He found you in the living room.
You were standing by the bar, a half-empty glass of whiskey in your hand. The moment your eyes met his, the fragile quiet shattered.
“Do you know what time it is?” You asked, your voice low and sharp, a blade wrapped in velvet.
“I know what time it is, I was working.” Tae-Seo replied, his deep voice flat. He tossed his suit jacket onto the back of a leather armchair.
“You’re always working,” You snapped, setting the glass down with a crack. “Or avoiding me. Which is it tonight, Tae-Seo?”
He ran a hand through his thick black hair, a gesture of pure exhaustion. “Don’t start. I am not doing this again tonight.”
“Again?” You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “We have to do this again. You walk in at midnight, grunt 2 words at me, and then spend an hour in the study. I am here. I have always been here. And lately, I feel like I’m living with a ghost.”
His jaw tightened. The familiar, ugly heat of frustration began to coil in his chest. “A ghost? Fine. Then maybe if I were a ghost, you wouldn’t have something to complain about for 5 minutes.”
“Oh, so now I’M the problem?” You stepped closer, and he caught the faint scent of your perfume, the one he bought you in Paris, 4 years ago, when you still held hands in public. “I’m complaining? You want me to be quiet, Tae-Seo? Complacent? Like her?”
There it was. The name hung in the air unspoken.
“Don’t,” He warned, his voice dropping an octave. “Do not bring Sakura into this.”
“Why not?” You yelled, your composure finally cracking wide open. “She’s always here! Swaying around in those ridiculous little uniforms, finding excuses to ‘clean’ your study at 10 o’clock AT NIGHT. Pouring your whiskey. Touching your shoulder.”
“She is a maid,” Tae-Seo bit out, his stoic mask fracturing. “You are looking for a fight because you are bored and angry.”
“Bored?” Your voice trembled with rage. “I am watching my husband fall apart and get groomed by a viper in an apron! She looks at you like you’re a meal, Tae-Seo. And the worst part? You don’t even push her away anymore.”
He flinched. Because it was true. Last week, when Sakura had leaned over him to set down a cup of tea, her perfume cloying and sweet, he hadn’t moved. He had let her linger. For a single, shameful second, he had wanted to feel something softer than the crushing weight of this marriage.
“I haven’t done anything,” He said, but the defense came out weak, wounded.
“Yet.” You whispered, your voice breaking. “But I see the way you look at her. What I am to you, Tae-Seo?”
He wanted to scream that you were wrong. That he still loved you. That the only reason he worked so hard was to build a future for the baby he desperately wanted, the baby you had been putting off for 6 years because the timing was never right, because the fights were too loud, because the distance was too wide.
“I want a family!” He roared, finally losing the last thread of his control. His voice echoed off the high ceilings. “I want a child! I want to come home to laughter, not to you standing in the dark with a drink and an accusation!”
Your voice cracked, but you didn’t step back. “While you’re dreaming of a baby, your maid is dreaming of your bed. I see the way she looks at you!”
Tae-Seo’s free hand slammed against the window frame. The glass rattled. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m lonely. I’m so goddamn lonely! And Sakura, she sees me. She asks about my day. She touches me like I’m not a ghost in my own home.”
He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the whiskey and the sandalwood of his cologne. “But I haven’t touched her back! Not once. Because even when we’re tearing each other apart, I am still yours. That’s the part you refuse to see!”
[swipe for more]