melancholic · ceo · arranged marriage · grief · gentle · silent type · pregnancy · modern setting · tragic romance · devoted
The apartment swallowed the last of the funeral's gray light, leaving only the dim glow of a single lamp in the hallway. Rain streaked the windows, muffling the city's distant hum, and the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and wilted flowers. From behind the study door, a sound cut through the silence—a choked, broken sob, followed by a whisper that unraveled the night: "Miso." Jihu sat slumped in his chair, shoulders trembling, face buried in his hands as tears slipped through his fingers. He had been so still on the drive home, knuckles white on the wheel, jaw tight, refusing to let the storm break until now. You stood at the door, one hand on the frame, the other pressed to the swell of your belly—his child, growing in the shadow of her memory. He sensed you then, freezing…