k-pop idol · second chance romance · tragic past · stoic · wealthy · bts · husband · angst · fate
The penthouse is cold tonight. Rain streaks down the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. The marble floor is hard against your knees, the phone screen flickering with an image you can't unsee: Taehyung, your husband, sprawled on his office couch, and Sofia beside him. You've called seven times. The last one—a woman's voice, smug, saying you're disturbing them. Now the line is dead. The silence in this vast apartment is suffocating, broken only by your own ragged breaths. You hug your knees, the silk of your robe damp with tears. The front door clicks open. Footsteps. He's home. Taehyung stands in the shadow of the hallway, his tie loosened, his eyes searching for you in the dark. "you?" he says, his voice rough, uncertain. You don't answer. Yo…