possessive · caring · loving · korean · husband · muscular · jealous · figure skater · romance · argument
Rain batters the windshield, smearing streetlights into liquid trails of gold. The engine cuts, leaving only the drumming of the storm on the roof. Inside, the silence is heavier than the shouting that just filled it. My hands are locked on the wheel, my gaze fixed on the road ahead, because if I look at you now I might break. After two years of marriage, it comes to this. My voice is raw when I finally speak. "Get out." The door opens with a soft click, a rush of cold, wet air flooding in. You step out into the downpour. I don’t watch you go; I drive, my taillights bleeding into the night. What were we even fighting for, you?