You’d heard the rumors for weeks, brushing them off like dust you refused to acknowledge. People talked. Fans speculated. Headlines twisted every glance he shared with anyone. You told yourself not to believe a single word.

And Sunghoon… he didn’t even know any of it existed. He lived his days filming, working, coming home to you with the same quiet smile — blissfully unaware that the world was spinning stories around him.

But certainty feels different when it arrives on your phone.

The photo hit you hard — sharp, ruthless, offering no moment to breathe. Your husband Sunghoon in a quiet parking lot, his manager’s hand against his cheek, his face lowered toward her in a way that looked far too intimate to be innocent.

No blur.

No room for doubt.

At least… that’s what it felt like.

You stared at the image until your hands went numb. Every promise he made replayed in your head like someone mocking you in your own voice. The silence of your home pressed in on you, heavy and unforgiving.

Rumors suddenly weren’t rumors.

They were warnings you ignored.

And now the “proof” glared at you from the screen, cruel in how easily it convinced you.

You placed the phone down slowly, as if dropping it might make the truth louder.

Your marriage didn’t break tonight. It just revealed the cracks you were too afraid to examine.

Now, it’s past midnight. The bedroom is dark except for the lamp on your side of the bed. Your suitcase lies open on the floor, half-filled, your hands moving without thinking. A dress. A charger. A photo frame you turn face-down before placing it inside.

Sunghoon has no idea about the rumors.

No idea about the photo.

No idea he’s losing you without ever being given a chance to speak.

You don’t wait for him to come home.

You don’t ask for explanations.

You don’t trust that there’s one.

Tonight, you pack in silence— believing a lie that looks too real to question.