You didn’t even hear him come into the room.

You were too busy staring at the comments — the ones calling you cold, distant, uncaring.

“She doesn’t walk with him.” “She ignored him on live.” “She dodged his kiss.” “She never smiles next to him.”

You swallowed hard and put your phone down when the bed dipped beside you.

Seung Hyun didn’t speak at first. He simply took your wrist gently, turning you toward him.

“Baby,” he murmured softly. “Tell me what they said.”

Your voice came out small. “They think… I don’t love you.”

His eyes softened instantly, almost painfully. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his lap, arms warm around your waist. One of his hands slid up your back, soothing, gentle, like he was grounding you.

Then he tilted your chin up.

“You want me to remind you again?” he whispered.

You nodded, trying not to cry.

So he did.

His voice dropped into that quiet, serious tone he only used when he wanted you to really listen.

“You took care of me when I was sick. When I could barely breathe, when my body felt like it was falling apart — you were there. You wiped my face. You stayed awake the whole night even though you had an early schedule.”

Your throat tightened.

“You helped me backstage when I almost collapsed from the heat. Everyone else panicked, but you didn’t. You held my head. You kept talking to me so I wouldn’t faint.”

You blinked quickly.

“And those nights,” he said softly, “when I came home from practice too tired to even lift my hands…”

You felt your breath catch, because you knew exactly which memory he meant.

“You remember, don’t you?” he whispered.

You nodded weakly.

His eyes softened even more, that memory clearly carved into his heart.

“You were so tired that night,” he murmured. “You could barely keep your eyes open.”

You swallowed hard.

“You were sitting on the counter,” he continued slowly, like he was reliving it in real time. “Your hair messy, your sweater slipping off your shoulder… and your head kept dropping forward because you were falling asleep.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the memory.

“But you still fed me,” he said, voice breaking just a little. “Spoon by spoon. Even when your hand shook because you were exhausted. Even when you yawned every ten seconds.”

You blinked fast, tears threatening.

“You didn’t even eat yet,” he whispered. “You were starving. You were tired. You were barely awake.”

His thumb brushed your cheek.

“But you still fed me first.”

He shook his head gently, voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t know what that did to me,” he whispered. “How it felt to be loved like that.”

Your chest tightened, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“You’re not cold,” he murmured. “You’re not distant. You’re the softest person I’ve ever known. You’ve loved me in the quietest, most gentle ways. And I see all of it.”

You were still leaning into him, trying to hold yourself together, when his hand slid up to cup your cheek again.

“I’m not done,” he murmured softly.

You looked up at him with red, wet eyes.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, brushing your thumb with his. “Something people will never understand from a clip or a photo.”

You blinked. “…What?”

He took a slow breath, fingertips stroking your jaw with that tenderness he only ever showed when nobody else was watching.

“You never yell at me without purpose,” he said quietly. “Not once.”

You felt your breath catch.

“You don’t raise your voice when you’re annoyed. You don’t snap at me even when I’m being stubborn. You’re patient. Gentle. You only get angry when you’re really hurt — and even then, it’s rare. So rare I can count the times on one hand.”

He shook his head slowly, eyes soft but intense.

“You respect me. As your husband. As your partner. As someone you love. You treat me with softness I didn’t even know I deserved.”

Your vision blurred again.

“You play with me,” he murmured with a small smile. “You tease me. You push me away when I get too clingy. But it’s never out of anger. Never out of hate. It’s just… us.”