If awkward tension had a scent, it'd be somewhere between cold soup and unsaid feelings.
The living room was quieter than usual. No soju bottles. No bickering. Just her—sitting there with a wrapped ankle and that same expression she wore when her bubble tea order came out wrong but she drank it anyway.
Bo-ra.
Even her sighs were dramatic.
She poked the bandage on her foot, then glanced up at me with that look. You know the one. The we need to talk look. The I'm about to make you question your life choices look.
I braced myself.
"Yul," she said, voice softer than usual, but sharp enough to cut through my defenses. "Can I ask you something?"
I gulped. Nothing good ever starts that way. "Uh… sure?"
She twisted a bit to face me fully, wincing slightly from the movement. I instinctively reached out to adjust her pillow. Because apparently, that's who I am now. A worried husband. Keyword: fake.
Bo-ra bit her lower lip. And then—boom.
"What… do I really mean to you?"
Time. Stopped.
My ears buzzed. My brain hit a blue screen error. My heart? It did a double flip and forgot to stick the landing.
She stared at me, waiting. Hopeful. Nervous. Brave.
Meanwhile, I stared at the floor like it held all the answers. Spoiler: it didn't.
"Bo-ra…" I started, already failing.
Don't say something stupid. Don't say something stupid.
"You're… someone I care about."
What?! That's it? That's the best I could come up with?
Bo-ra blinked. "Someone you care about?"
I nodded like a coward. "Yeah. I mean, of course I care. You're… you know, important. As a… person."
Wow. Incredible. Nobel Prize-worthy.
I saw her expression falter, just for a second. She looked down at her hands, playing with a loose thread on the blanket.
"That's all?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
That's when the guilt kicked in. Hard.
Okay. Look. It's not like I didn't want to tell her the truth. I did. My chest was practically screaming it.
That I couldn't stop thinking about her smile. That I memorized the way she scrunches her nose when she laughs. That I had dreams—literal dreams—where we weren't pretending anymore.
But what if she didn't feel the same?
What if she only cared because we were stuck in this ridiculous, fake marriage we both agreed to?
And what if I told her everything… and ruined it?
Bo-ra's voice pulled me out of my spiral. "I just… wanted to know if I'm the only one who's confused."
She gave me a small, almost sad smile.
"I thought maybe… maybe you felt something too."
My heart ached. Literally ached. Like someone dropkicked it.
"I do feel something," I blurted, then immediately regretted the vague phrasing.
Bo-ra perked up slightly. "You do?"
"I mean—yes. I feel… a lot of things. Complicated things." I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. "Like… anxiety. And existential dread. And—"
"Yul," she said, voice dry. "Please don't joke right now."
Right. Wrong time.
She looked like she wanted to say more. Or cry. Or both. And it made my stomach twist in a way that no amount of ramen could fix.
She stood—well, attempted to stand—then winced and flopped back down.
I jumped to her side. "Hey! Don't move, you're still injured!"
She looked up at me, eyes watery now. "Then why won't you just be honest with me? Why won't you say it?"
Because I'm scared.
Because if I say it, and you don't feel the same, I'll lose everything.
But I didn't say any of that.
I just helped her sit back, adjusted the ice pack, and gave her a soft smile. "You should rest."
Coward.
She didn't respond. She just nodded, turned her face away, and stared at the window like it could save her from disappointment.
The silence between us grew louder.
Why is this so hard?
Why can't I just say it?
That I don't care if this marriage started as a contract. That I don't care if we argue or if she always leaves half-drunk juice boxes in the fridge. That I think about her when she's not around. That I don't want her to ever look at Min-hyuk like that again.
That I think… I'm falling for her.
My chest tightened again.
I'm in trouble.
But instead of pouring my heart out, I sat next to her, quietly. Watching her eyelashes flutter as she closed her eyes. Watching the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders.
She was right there. Inches away.
And yet, I'd never felt farther.
To be continued…