Life goes on @neoaevis - Tumblr Blog

Feb 24

Till Death Do We Part II

Pairings : husband jaehyun x wife reader

Genre: arranged marriage, smut , angst , fluff (yuna’s part)

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning: Arguments, infidelity (mentioned) , bathtub sex (let me know if I missed something)

AN: I hope you guys like this as much as you liked the first part, Im super unsure if some scenes look rushed? but feedback is heavily appreciated and once again I dedicate this to Jaehyun who I miss dearly💕

Taglist: @yowmaman @r24priv05

Part: I

Part VI : A Daughter’s resentment

The first three days of Jaehyun's absence were defined by a hostile, vibrating silence. Yuna was a whirlwind of directed fury. She refused to touch the toy towers Jaehyun had helped her build, kicking them across the room whenever she passed. When you tried to mention his name, she would cover her ears, her small face turning a bright, angry red.

"I don't have an Appa," she had declared on the second night, her voice trembling. "The giants got him."

But by the fourth day, the anger leaked out, leaving behind a hollow sadness. You were sitting in the nursery when she stopped midway playing with her plush toy. Her eyes, so much like Jaehyun’s, were wide and searching.

"Eomma?" she whispered. "Is Appa still fighting the giants? It's been a lot of nights."

You felt a sharp ache in your chest. You didn't even know where he was. "He's... handling business, Yuna."

"Did I make him stay away?" she asked, her lip quivering. "Because I said I hated him? If I say sorry, will the giants let him come back for pancakes?"

The heartbreak in her voice was a testament to the "little permanent happiness" Taeyong had warned Jaehyun about. Even in her anger, her world was incomplete without the man who had promised to hold her hand.

He had fallen into a repetitive, punishing routine over the past few days. By 8:00 AM every morning, Jaehyun was a phantom in his own company. He showed up at the office with the precision of a machine—his suits crisp, his hair perfectly gelled, his presence commanding. But the man inside was disintegrating. His eyes were perpetually bloodshot, hidden behind a pair of heavy designer frames that served as his only shield against the world. He moved through the halls like a well-programmed ghost, and though his presence was intimidating, the scent of expensive cologne couldn't quite mask the faint, sharp tang of the scotch he’d been using as a sedative until four in the morning.

He functioned on autopilot—signing contracts, leading board meetings, and navigating the mental torture of his responsibilities with a terrifying, hollow efficiency.

Eunha noticed the shift immediately. On the third morning, she stepped into his office, closing the door with a soft, suggestive click. She approached his desk, her hand reaching out to graze his shoulder as she leaned over with a stack of files.

"You look exhausted, Jaehyun," she whispered, her voice dropping into that familiar, intimate lilt. "Maybe you need a break. You should loosen up a bit, and I know exactly how to—"

"Get out."

The words weren't a shout; they were a low, dangerous growl. Jaehyun didn't even look up from his screen. His jaw was set so tight it looked like stone.

"Jaehyun, I’m just trying to—"

"You are a secretary, Eunha. Act like one," he snapped, his gaze finally snapping to hers. There was no heat in his eyes anymore, no desire for the distraction she offered. There was only a cold, visceral disgust—mostly for himself. "If you cross that line again, your resignation will be on my desk by noon. Do not touch me. Do not speak to me unless it is about work. Am I clear?"

She recoiled as if he’d slapped her, the power dynamic she’d carefully cultivated vanishing in a single breath. Jaehyun watched her leave, then slumped back in his chair, his hand trembling as he rubbed his face. He wasn't being "moral"; he was just tired. He was tired of the shallow warmth of people who didn't actually know him.

Back at the estate, the atmosphere was different. For the first time, the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen wasn't being run by a staff in white coats. You had sent them away. You needed to do something with your hands, something that wasn't signing a check or managing a social calendar.

You were covered in flour, a smudge of it white against your cheek, as you pulled a tray of slightly lopsided chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. They weren't "patisserie" perfect, but they were warm, and they smelled like a home instead of a museum.

Yuna sat on the marble island, her legs swinging, her eyes wide as she watched you. "Eomma? Are we allowed to make a mess?"

"Today? We're allowed to make the biggest mess in Seoul," you said, forcing a smile as you handed her a warm cookie.

The initial fury Yuna had felt toward her father had faded into a quiet, haunting confusion. She took a bite, but her eyes drifted to the window overlooking the manicured gardens.

"Eomma?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Appa still mad at me?" She looked up, her lower lip trembling. "I told the giants I was sorry. I said I didn't mean the 'H' word. Why won't he come back to the house?"

It was the same mental torture you and Jaehyun had endured since you were six—the constant fear of being "discarded" if you weren't perfect. You saw your own childhood trauma reflecting in her tear-filled eyes, and you refused to let it take root.

"He's not mad, baby," you said, dropping the oven mitt and pulling her into your lap, ignoring the flour getting on your clothes. "He’s just... he’s a little lost. Like when you lose your favorite toy under the bed. He needs us to show him the way back."

To drown out the heavy silence of the estate, you turned the afternoon into a whirlwind of distractions. You chased her through the long, sun-drenched corridors, her small socks sliding on the polished wood as she squealed with delight. You played hide-and-seek behind the heavy velvet curtains and built a makeshift castle out of the expensive silk throw pillows in the lounge. You did everything to make sure only laughter would grace her face.

Eventually, the sugar and the excitement wore her out. You carried a sleepy, heavy-lidded Yuna up the grand staircase to her room. As you tucked her in for an afternoon nap, she gripped your thumb with her small hand.

"Tell Appa... I miss him," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.

You waited until her breathing was deep and even before you walked out, the playful smile vanished from your face. You went straight to your room, sat on the bed, and dialed the one person who knew exactly which hole Jaehyun had crawled into.

"Taeyong," you said, your voice hard and determined. "I don't care what he is doing, and I don’t care if he’s ashamed.Tell me where he is. I’m bringing him home."

The tires of the Lamborghini screamed against the asphalt as Jaehyun took a sharp turn onto the rain-slicked highway. Inside the cabin, the air was toxic—a suffocating mix of expensive cologne and the sharp, acidic burn of neat scotch. The speedometer climbed, the engine’s roar sounding less like a feat of engineering and more like a cornered animal’s howl.

Jaehyun’s vision was a smear of neon lights and wet pavement. His hands were white-knuckled and trembling on the steering wheel. He was insanely drunk, the kind of drunk where the world feels both too fast and agonizingly heavy.

His phone buzzed incessantly in the center console. He swiped it with a clumsy, aggressive motion.

"What?" he barked into the speaker, his voice a jagged wreck.

"Jaehyun, pull the car over. Now," Taeyong’s voice was sharp with authority, but his underlying panic was palpable. "I can hear the engine. You’re going to kill yourself."

"Maybe that's the point, Hyung," Jaehyun slurred, a hysterical, hollow laugh bubbling up in his throat. "Maybe a ghost should finally stay dead. I haven't been back in days. I’m just sitting in a hotel room waiting for the walls to swallow me because I can't look at my daughter anymore."

"Jae, listen to me," Taeyong pleaded. "Y/N just called me. She’s looking for you. She sounded... different. She wants you to go home."

"Home? To what?" Jaehyun swerved, the car fishtailing slightly before he corrected it with a jerk. "To the look on Yuna's face? I missed it Hyung, her first day of school. The most important day of her life, and where was I? in a hotel room with Eunha, trying to feel anything other than the suffocation of that house. I was hooking up with my secretary while my daughter was looking for me. And then she saw me later. She looked me in the eye and said she hated me. My three-year-old knows I’m a coward and doesn’t want to see me.

"You idiot!" Taeyong’s voice crackled with a sudden, sharp fury. "I told you to stop playing around with her. I told you Eunha was a parasite feeding on your misery. You spent months

"I ended it!" Jaehyun screamed back, slamming his hand against the leather dash. "I told her to get out! I told her if she touched me again, I’d destroy her career. It’s over, hyung. I’m done with the distractions."

"Telling her 'it's over' isn't enough, Jaehyun," Taeyong snapped, his tone cold and pragmatic. "She’s still in your office. She’s still in your space. If you actually want to go home, if you actually want to look Yuna in the eye, you fire her. You scrub that mistake out of your life entirely. You can't heal in the same room where you poisoned yourself."

Jaehyun let out a sob that sounded like a physical tear in his chest. "We’ve been bound together since we were six. Twenty years of being 'the perfect couple' for the cameras, and I’m so broken I can't even show up for a child. You want to know what it feels like to be me?"

"Jaehyun, slow down—"

"She sleeps with him, Taeyong!" Jaehyun screamed, the confession finally bursting out of him. "Your brother. Mark. The one who got to be the human while you and I became the machines. She goes to him because he’s 'free.' He’s holding her in the dark while I’m out here chasing shadows like Eunha just to feel like I’m not a corpse.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. The wind whistled through the slight crack in the window as Taeyong absorbed the hit. Mark. His own blood, the younger brother he had protected, was the one dismantling Jaehyun’s life.

"Jae..." Taeyong’s voice broke, the anger replaced by a crushing, profound pity. "I didn't... I didn't know it was Mark. God, Jae, I’m so incredibly sorry. I’m going to handle him. I promise you, I will end it. I'll make sure he never touches her again. Just stay alive long enough to get home."

Jaehyun’s foot finally eased off the pedal. The roar of the V12 dipped into a low, mournful hum. He swerved onto the shoulder of the road, the tires crunching on gravel before the car came to a jarring halt. He slumped over the wheel, his forehead resting on the cold leather, his entire body racking with violent, silent sobs.

Jaehyun wiped his face with the back of his hand, his breathing finally leveling out. The drunk, hysterical edge had been replaced by a heavy, grounding realization: he couldn't stay on this shoulder forever. He had to face the wreckage.

He drove back to the estate with agonizing care, every turn of the wheel a conscious effort. When he finally pushed open the heavy front doors, the silence of the mansion didn't feel like a threat—it felt like a witness.

He walked up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the carpet, and stopped at Yuna’s door. It was cracked open with just a sliver. Standing in the hallway, he watched the soft rise and fall of her shoulders under the duvet. As he looked at her a fresh wave of grief hit him—not the loud, drunken kind, but a quiet, sharp ache. He had missed so much in just a few days of running. He didn't go in; he didn't feel worthy of waking her. He just admired her from the shadows, a man looking at a miracle he almost threw away.

Finally, he turned toward the primary suite.

The room was dim, the bedside lamp unlit. He thought you were already asleep until he saw the silhouette on the balcony. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the expansive gardens, the moonlight catching your natural beauty.

He stepped out into the night air, the chill biting through him. He stood beside you, not touching, just existing in the same space.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. It was the simplest thing he had said to you in years. "I’m sorry for missing Yuna’s first day. I’m sorry for being a ghost."

You didn't look at him, but you didn't pull away either. "Yuna thinks the giants took you. She’s been apologizing to the hallway for saying she hated you."

Jaehyun closed his eyes, a pained sound escaping his throat. "I talked to Taeyong. On the way here. I told him I’m done with the distractions. I told him I ended things with Eunha... but he’s right. I can't just end the 'hookup.' I have to fire her. I have to scrub every part of that mistake out of my life if I’m ever going to be able to look Yuna in the eye again."

As the silence took over without your response, Jaehyun proceeded, his gaze shifting from the horizon to the floor.

"Do you remember the charity gala my family hosted?" Jaehyun asked, his voice a low, jagged rasp. It was a memory pulled from a time before the bitterness had set in. "We were eight. You were wearing that stiff lace dress that you kept scratching at."

You didn't move, but the tension in your shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. "And you were hiding under the dessert table because your father told you that you had to deliver the welcome toast in three languages."

"I succeeded for a solid twenty minutes. Until you crawled under there with a plate of petit fours and told me my tie was crooked."

"Someone had to," you whispered, leaning back just enough to look at him. The moonlight softened the edges of his tired face. "You looked like you were being marched to the gallows."

"I was," he murmured, his voice thick with the memory. "And you were the only one who didn't look at me like a prodigy. You looked at me like I was a kid who was about to cry."

You let out a long, trembling breath, finally turning your body slightly toward him. You didn't reach for him, but the wall between you felt thinner. "I’m sorry, too, Jaehyun," you said softly. "I’m sorry for letting us get so cold. I think I spent so much time resenting the fact that we were forced together that I forgot you were the only other person trapped in this with me. I stopped looking at you because it was easier to be 'practical' than to see how much we were both hurting."

It was a quiet, sober recognition of your shared history. You weren't fixed, but the isolation was gone. You were just two people who had known each other since they were six, finally acknowledging the gravity of their proximity.

Jaehyun finally reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it over yours on the railing. It wasn't a possessive grip; it was a plea for a ceasefire, a simple acknowledgement of your presence in his life.

Jaehyun finally reached out, his hand trembling as he rested it over yours on the railing. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a ceasefire. "I want to be that person again," he whispered. "I don't know how to do it yet... but I'm here."

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains in pale, thin strips. As you stirred, your hand instinctively reached across the expansive mattress, searching for a warmth that wasn't there. The silk sheets were cool and perfectly smooth on Jaehyun’s side. For a heart-stopping second, the old anxiety flared up—the fear that you have opened up way too much last night.

You threw on a silk robe and hurried out of the room, your footsteps quiet on the hallway runner. But as you approached the top of the grand staircase, a sound drifted up that made you pause: the frantic, rhythmic clink-clink-clink of a whisk hitting a metal bowl, punctuated by the high-pitched, bubbly giggle of a three-year-old.

You walked toward the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to take in a sight that felt like a glitch in the mansion's matrix.

Jaehyun wasn't in a suit. He wasn't even in his usual "casual" button-down. He was wearing a soft, oversized cream-colored cashmere sweater—the kind of "warm" clothing he usually avoided because it made him look too approachable, too soft. His hair was messy, ungelled and falling over his forehead, and he had a pair of comfortable white shorts on.

He was focused intently on a pan of sizzling batter, but he wasn't alone. Yuna was practically glued to his left leg. Every time Jaehyun moved to reach for the spatula or the milk, Yuna shuffled along with him, her small hands gripping the soft wool of his sweater as if he were a life raft.

"Appa, it’s bubbles! Look!" Yuna squealed, pointing at the pancake.

"I see them, baby. That means it’s almost time for the flip," Jaehyun murmured. His voice was husky with sleep, but it held a gentleness that felt brand new. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of awe and a desperate kind of tenderness. "Are you sure you don't want to sit in your chair? I promise I'm just going to the fridge."

"No," Yuna said firmly, tightening her grip on the cream wool. "The fridge is too far. You might get lost again."

Jaehyun went still for a moment, the weight of her words hitting him visibly. He caught sight of you in the doorway and offered a small, uncertain look—the expression of a man who knew he was trespassing in a domestic world he hadn't earned yet.

"Eomma! Appa is making circles!" Yuna announced, her face beaming.

"I see that," you said, walking further into the kitchen. The scent of vanilla and burnt butter was a welcome change from the usual sterile smell of the house. "Since when did you learn how to handle a stovetop?"

Jaehyun let out a short, self-deprecating huff. "I didn't. I had to watch three YouTube videos just to figure out how not to set the smoke alarm off. I think the first batch could probably be used as roof shingles."

He gestured to a plate of charcoal-black discs sitting in the sink. You couldn't help it; a genuine laugh bubbled up. "Well, at least you’re consistent. You always did aim for 'durable' results."

Jaehyun’s eyes softened, he reached out to flip the current pancake, and even though his technique was clumsy, Yuna cheered as if he was the best cook in the world.

"Yuna, why don't you let Appa move so he can get the plates?" you suggested, moving toward them.

"I'm a koala," Yuna declared, burying her face in the soft fabric of his sweater. "Koalas don't let go."

Jaehyun looked at you over her head, a helpless, tired smile on his lips. "It’s okay. I can work with a koala. I think I’ve spent enough time being 'unreachable' anyway. I don't mind the extra weight."

He sets the plates over on the dining table, the porcelain clinking softly against the wood. After doing so, he carefully tries to peel Yuna from him to place her in a chair beside him, but the girl remains insistent that he just feeds her while carrying her. She wraps her legs tighter around his waist, her small face buried in the soft, cream-colored wool of his sweater.

Jaehyun sighs, a sound that is more fond than frustrated. "Alright, alright. I guess I’m a high-chair today," he murmurs, settling into his own seat with her perched firmly on his lap.

The three of you eat comfortably, the clinking of silverware the only sound besides Yuna’s occasional happy hums. Jaehyun is attentive, blowing on each small piece of pancake before offering it to her. He looks at her with an intensity that suggests he’s trying to memorize the exact shade of her eyes.

"Appa?" Yuna asks, leaning back to look at him. "Are you going to put on your suit now? Are the giants calling you on the phone?"

Jaehyun sets the fork down and looks her directly in the eye. "No more giants today, Yuna. And no stiff suits. In fact," he glances up at you, his gaze lingering for a second before returning to her, "I’ve decided I won’t be going to work for some time. I’m staying right here. We have a lot of towers to build and a lot of movies to catch up on."

You raise your brows at that, a piece of pancake pausing halfway to your mouth. It’s a shock to the system. For a man who usually measures his worth in billable hours and corporate takeovers, the idea of him voluntarily stepping away is entirely new.

"You’re taking a leave?" you ask quietly. "For how long?"

"Until I’m sure the 'H' word is gone for good," he says, his voice low and sincere.

Yuna’s eyes light up. "Then we can watch the movie! The one with the ice queen and the snowman!"

Once the plates are cleared, the three of you move to the massive, plush living room couch. Jaehyun settles into the cushions, still playing the role of the "koala tree" as Yuna sprawls across him, her head resting right over his heart. You sit at the other end, close enough that your knees occasionally brush his, the domesticity of it all feeling both beautiful and fragile.

As the opening credits begin to roll, the living room—usually a place of ice and silence—feels transformed by the bright colors on the screen. But you know the reality of the calendar.

"Yuna, baby," you say gently, leaning toward her. "Since Appa is staying home to play, that means you have to do your job, too. You’ve missed a lot of days already. On Monday, you need to go back to school."

Yuna’s face falls instantly, her eyes darting from the screen to the soft fabric of Jaehyun's sweater. "But if I go, you’ll leave again. You’ll go back to the office."

Jaehyun tucks a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering there with a touch so gentle it almost looks foreign on him. "I won't. I'll tell you what—this time, I’m the one who’s going to drive you. I’ll walk you all the way to the door, and I’ll be standing right there at the gate when the bell rings to bring you home. I promise."

Yuna looks at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie. "Pinky promise? The real kind?"

Jaehyun gravely hooks his pinky finger with her tiny one. "The realest kind."

Yuna lets out a happy sigh and settles back against his chest, her eyes glued to the screen as the music starts. You watch them from your side of the couch, the sight of the two of them—one small and hopeful, one grown and trying to mend a thousand breaks—stirring something complicated in your chest. You want to believe him. You want to trust that the man who missed the first day would never miss another.

The movie credits began to roll in a quiet crawl, the bright Disney melodies fading into a soft, instrumental hum. Yuna’s breathing had long since become deep and rhythmic, her small hand finally losing its iron grip on Jaehyun’s cream sweater.

Jaehyun moved with a practiced, agonizing slowness. He scooped her up, cradling her head against his shoulder as he stood. He walked upstairs to her room, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn't just drop her off. He tucked her in, adjusted her favorite plush toy, and lingered in the doorway, watching her sleep for several minutes before finally heading back down.

When he returned to the living room, you were still sitting on the couch, staring at the blank television screen. The warmth of the morning felt like it was evaporating, replaced by the cool, sharp reality of your shared history.

Jaehyun sat down, though he kept a respectful distance. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I meant what I told her," he began, his voice low and earnest. "I’ve already cleared my schedule for the next two weeks. I want to be here every morning. I want to be the one who—"

"Jaehyun," you interrupted, your voice flat and devoid of the lightheartedness from breakfast. You turned to look at him, your eyes searching his with a profound, weary doubt. "Just make sure you aren’t actually keeping her hopes up this time. I can handle your absences. I’ve had years of practice. But she’s three. If you promise her the world and then disappear back into God knows where again... I don't think she'll forgive you a second time."

Jaehyun’s mouth opened, a protest or a deeper apology sitting on the tip of his tongue. He looked like he wanted to reach out, to promise you that he was different now. But the weight of his recent choices—the missed school day, the drinking, Eunha—sat between you like a physical barrier.

"I—" he started, but you were already standing up.

"I’m going to shower," you said, cutting him off before he could offer words that you weren't ready to believe.

You walked away without looking back, leaving him alone in the center of the silent living room. Upstairs, the steam of the shower filled the bathroom, the hot water hitting your shoulders in an attempt to wash away the tension of the last few days. You leaned your head against the cool tiles, closing your eyes.

After you finished, you wrapped yourself in a fresh robe and sat on the edge of the bed. The house was quiet, but your mind was a riot of noise. You picked up your phone, your thumb hovering over Mark's name.

Mark was the one who had seen you through the loneliest nights. He was the quiet comfort you sought when Jaehyun’s coldness became too much to bear. While Jaehyun was out being a "machine," Mark was the person who actually listened, providing the warmth that had been missing from your marriage. But looking at the closed door, and thinking of the moments you have shared the night before, you knew the cycle had to stop. You couldn't ask Jaehyun to be better while you were still holding onto a backdoor escape.

You pressed the call. It only rang twice before he picked up.

"Mark?" you whispered into the receiver, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay firm. "It's me. We need to talk. Properly."

"Uhh, sure?" Mark’s voice came through, low and laced with an immediate, cautious concern. "Did something happen? You sound... different."

As you walked down the grand staircase, the clinking of porcelain echoed from the kitchen. You found Jaehyun there, his sleeves still rolled up, meticulously washing the last of the breakfast dishes. He looked up as you entered, his eyes taking in your outfit and the keys in your hand.

"Are you headed out?" he asked, his voice quiet, devoid of the usual cold authority. He paused, drying his hands on a towel. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"I’m going to meet a friend," you replied, your hand tightening slightly around the keys.

You waited for the flicker of suspicion or the cold, possessive tilt of his head, but it never came. He simply nodded, his expression softening as if he realized you needed your own space just as much as he had needed his. He wasn't trying to cage you; he was simply acknowledging the reality of your life.

"I understand," he said quietly. "Enjoy yourself."

He turned back to the counter, but you found yourself pausing at the threshold. The lack of tension in him made the truth feel even heavier. "I’ll be home for dinner, Jaehyun," you added, the statement feeling like a small, tentative bridge being built. "I'll be back by six."

He didn't turn around, but you saw the slight rise of his shoulders as he took a breath. "I’ll have something ready," he murmured. "Be safe."

You walked out to the parking lot, the engine of your Porsche 911 roaring to life, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. The drive to Mark’s apartment was a blur of traffic and heavy thoughts. You parked the car and took the elevator up, the silence of the lift echoing the finality of your decision.

When the door opened, Mark was standing there. He looked like the opposite of the life you lived—casual, warm, and entirely uncomplicated.

You take hesitant steps going inside, facing him as soon as you are inside. The apartment, once your only place of refuge, suddenly felt like a stage for a play that had reached its final act.

"Taeyong called me," Mark said softly, his voice dropping into a somber register as he leaned back against the doorframe. He didn't move to touch you, and the familiar warmth that usually greeted you was replaced by a quiet, shared understanding that the air between you had changed.

"He didn't hold back. My brother reminded me that regardless of how cold that house felt to you, there’s a three-year-old girl in the middle of it now. He told me it was pretty bad, what we were doing... that Yuna deserves parents who are at least trying to be whole."

He looked at you then, his eyes softening with a sad, sentimental smile. "And he was right. I think I knew it, too. I was your sanctuary, but a sanctuary is just a place you hide from the storm. It’s not a home. Especially not when there’s a child like Yuna waiting for the people she loves to finally stay."

The realization hit you hard. Even Mark, the man who had been your peace, recognized that the stakes had shifted. Taeyong’s intervention—as both his brother and the man who knew the wreckage of your marriage best—had stripped away the blur of the affair, leaving only the reality of the damage it was doing to a little girl who didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

"I can't live in the shadows anymore," you whispered, the finality of it settling in your chest. "Not if I'm going to ask for the light to be turned back on at home."

Mark nodded slowly, a final, quiet acceptance. He didn't try to argue or plead; he simply looked at you with the gaze of someone who truly cared enough to let go.

"Then go," he said gently, reaching out to give your shoulder one last, grounding squeeze. "Go be the mother she needs. Go see if that house can actually feel like a home tonight."

You stepped back out into the hallway, the weight on your shoulders feeling different—not lighter, but more honest.

Part VII: Quiet Surrender

The drive back was quieter than the drive there. As you pulled the Porsche into the driveway, the estate didn’t look like the cold, imposing fortress it usually was. Instead, the golden glow of the interior lights spilled out onto the manicured lawn, making the house look soft—almost inviting.

When you stepped through the front door, the first thing that hit you wasn't the scent of expensive lilies, but the savory, mouth-watering aroma of roasted chicken and herbs. The house felt warm. It wasn't just the heating system; it was the life vibrating within the walls.

You walked toward the dining room and paused. Jaehyun was still in that cream cashmere sweater, though he had added a comedic touch: a ruffled floral apron he must have found in the back of the pantry. He was sitting low in his chair, patiently blowing on a spoonful of mashed potatoes for Yuna.

"Eomma! You're back!" Yuna beamed, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Look! Appa made a volcano out of the potatoes!"

Jaehyun looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was no judgment there, only a soft, relieved smile. "Welcome home," he said quietly. "We just started."

You took your seat, and for a few minutes, you and Jaehyun ate in a comfortable, domestic silence. The clinking of silverware was underscored by the "cracking" of the ice that had lived in your chest for so long. Seeing him like this—disheveled, helpful, and present—was slowly mending the parts of you that had gone numb.

"Eomma, where did you go?" Yuna asked, her mouth slightly messy with gravy. "I woke up from my nap and you weren't in the fort. I thought maybe the giants got you too."

You felt a small pang of guilt, but you smoothed it over with a gentle smile. "No giants, baby. I just had to go meet a friend for a little bit."

"Who?" Yuna tilted her head, her curiosity never-ending.

"I met up with Auntie Yeji," you said, offering a small white lie.

Yuna’s eyes went wide. "Auntie Yeji? I miss her! She makes the bestest funny faces." She poked at a stray pea on her plate, her voice turning a bit wistful. "Does she want to play with me again soon? Can she come over and we can show her the fort?"

"I'm sure she’d love to see them," you replied, your heart squeezing a little at her innocence. "I'll tell her you have a whole new collection to show her."

"And we have to play hide and seek!" Yuna added excitedly, her hands waving in the air. "Auntie Yeji is the best at hiding. One time she hid in the big laundry basket and I couldn't find her for a hundred years! Tell her she has to come play and see my toys soon, okay Eomma?"

Jaehyun let out a genuine, low chuckle that vibrated through the room. "A hundred years? That’s a long time for Auntie Yeji to be in a laundry basket. I’ll have to make sure she brings an overnight bag if she’s going to hide that well again."

The dinner continued with Yuna babbling on about which new toy Auntie Yeji would like the best. When the plates were finally cleared, Jaehyun stood up and scooped a giggling Yuna into his arms.

"Alright, little koala. It’s bath time," he announced. He looked over at you, his expression earnest. "Why don't you go upstairs and relax? Take a long soak or just lie down. I’ve got her tonight. You’ve had a long day."

"Are you sure?" you asked, surprised. Bath time with a three-year-old was usually an Olympic-level sport involving water splashing everywhere.

"I'm sure," Jaehyun said, adjusting Yuna on his hip. He looked down at the little girl. "Ready to make a bubble beard, Yuna?"

"Yes! A giant one!" she cheered.

As they headed toward the stairs, Jaehyun stopped and looked back at you. "The tea is on the counter. It’s still hot."

You watched them disappear up the stairs, the sound of Yuna’s laughter echoing through the halls. For the first time in years, the silence in the kitchen wasn't lonely—it was peaceful.

You looked at the steaming cup of tea Jaehyun had left on the counter. It was a kind gesture—almost too kind. The sudden shift in the house was giving you whiplash, and you didn't know how to process the warmth radiating from the kitchen. You swallowed your emotions, deciding that a cup of herbal tea wasn't going to cut through the layers of confusion in your chest. You needed something a bit more potent.

Bypassing the kettle, you headed for the wine fridge and pulled out a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. You poured a glass and downed it in one go, the rich red wine offering a sharp contrast to the domestic sweetness of the evening. You grabbed the bottle and a fresh glass, heading upstairs.

As you passed the hallway, the sound of splashing water and high-pitched giggles drifted out. You caught a glimpse through the cracked bathroom door—Jaehyun was kneeling on the floor, his sleeves pushed up, with a massive "beard" of white bubbles Yuna had smeared onto his face. He was making a ridiculous face, and Yuna was shrieking with delight.

The sight was too much. It felt like a beautiful lie you weren't ready to buy into yet.

You retreated to your shared master bedroom, the bottle and glass clinking in your hands. You walked straight into the en-suite bathroom, needing to submerge yourself in something other than your own thoughts. You didn't turn on the lights, preferring to light up some scented candles and relying on the dim glow of the bedroom as you sank into the warm water of the tub, finishing the bottle as you leaned your head back.

Eventually, the house grew quiet. Jaehyun had finished with Yuna and made his way to the shared bedroom. Noticing the bathroom door was slightly ajar, he stepped toward it to check on you.

He stood there for a moment, watching you in the quiet dimness of the candlelight. His gaze was soft, lingering on you with a look of quiet contemplation, as if he were trying to memorize the scene.

Suddenly, you opened your eyes.

You caught him staring, and the sheer timing of it caught him completely off guard. He actually jumped a little, his hand flying to the doorframe as his composed expression crumbled into a look of pure, sheepish surprise.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some of his dignity. He looked at the empty bottle on the ledge and then back at you, his voice softening. "Yuna is out cold. She’s finally asleep. I... I didn't want to disturb you, I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

He stayed there, hovering at the door, seemingly torn between giving you your space and wanting to step closer into the warm, candlelit room.

"You know, you shouldn't stutter," you said, your voice low and slightly husky from the wine. You shifted in the warm water, a semi-teasing glint in your eyes as you looked at him through the flickering candlelight. "It's not like this is something you haven't seen before, Jaehyun."

The flush on his cheeks deepened, reaching the tips of his ears. He let out a dry, breathless laugh, finally stepping fully into the bathroom but keeping a respectful distance near the vanity. "I suppose not. I just... I didn't want to intrude on your peace."

You reached for the empty glass, swirling the last few drops of red. "Peace is a strong word for a bottle of Romanée-Conti in the dark. But speaking of things I haven't seen... why are you being so domestic all of a sudden? The apron, the 'potato volcanoes,' the bubble beards... it’s a bit of a shock to the system."

Jaehyun’s playful embarrassment ebbed away, replaced by a raw, quiet sincerity. He leaned against the marble counter, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"I have a lot of faults to answer for," he murmured, his voice tightening. "I’ve spent so much time being the man who stayed away... the man who came home at four in the morning smelling like a life that didn't include you or Yuna. Coming home with a different scent on my clothes, pretending I wasn't destroying the only good thing I had.

He looked back at you, his eyes shimmering with a mix of exhaustion and genuine regret. "I hated myself for it, but I didn't know how to stop the cycle until I saw how much it was hurting Yuna. Seeing her face when I walked in today... I realized I was becoming a stranger in my own home. I regret it. Every second of it."

The tension in the room shifted, turning from lighthearted teasing to something much heavier. You sat up slightly, the water rippling around you. "And what assurance do I have that this 'change' is forever, Jaehyun? It’s all so sudden. One day you don’t come home for a week, the next you’re the world’s best father. It’s hard to keep up. I’m utterly confused."

You looked at him, your mind screaming at you to be careful. "Is this just a phase? A reaction to a guilty conscience? Because I can’t let you break her heart by going back to that other life the moment this house feels too quiet for you."

Jaehyun moved closer, kneeling down by the edge of the tub. He reached out as if to touch the water, his fingers hovering just above the surface before he pulled his hand back suddenly, as if he didn't feel worthy of the warmth. He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a devastating level of regret and a longing he had been trying to suppress all evening.

The air between you became electric, thick with years of resentment and an underlying pull that neither of you had been able to fully sever. Before he could apologize again, before he could retreat into his guilt, you reached out.

Your hands, damp and warm, suddenly grabbed onto his face, pulling him toward you. The movement was sharp, desperate, and caught him completely off guard. You leaned forward and kissed him—a kiss that tasted of expensive wine, candle wax, and a complicated, breaking history.

Jaehyun froze for a heartbeat, his breath hitching against your lips, before his eyes fluttered shut and his hands found the edge of the tub, gripping it until his knuckles went white as he kissed you back.

The kiss deepened, turning from a desperate question into a heated demand. Your fingers tangled in the soft, expensive wool of his cream cashmere sweater, tugging at the hem with a sudden, impatient hunger. Jaehyun let out a low, muffled groan against your lips, his hands moving from the cold marble of the tub to your arms, his touch a frantic contrast to the gentle father he had been just an hour ago.

Slowly, you worked the fabric upward, ridding him of the sweater that had symbolized his "domestic" shift, wanting to get back to the man beneath the layers. He helped you with a feverish urgency, the garment discarded somewhere on the tiled floor.

As you tried to pull him into the tub with you, the water rippling and spilling over the sides, Jaehyun suddenly paused. He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. He looked at you with a flicker of hesitation, his eyes searching yours for more than just a fleeting impulse.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice thick with an unsure, trembling hope. "Is it... is it actually okay for us to do this? I don't want to take advantage of... of tonight."

The alcohol was running through your veins now, a warm, numbing tide that silenced the voices of caution and the memories of his long absences. You didn't want to think about the "why" or the "how long." You just wanted to feel something other than the hollow ache that had defined your marriage for so long.

"It's okay," you murmured, your hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. You looked him in the eye, your gaze heavy and clouded. "I don't care, Jaehyun. Just... don't stop."

Jaehyun didn't need to be told twice. The last of his restraint snapped, and he climbed over the ledge—but not before he removed both his shorts and boxers. Your mouth watered at the sight; you knew Jaehyun had been going to the gym more these days, and hell, it had paid off too well. The candlelight caught the sharp lines of his physique, tracing the results of hours of discipline that you hadn't been around to witness lately.

He sank into the water beside you, the heat of the tub suddenly magnified by the heat of his skin. The water overflowed, splashing onto the marble floor as he reclaimed your lips, never once breaking the connection. The steam and the scent of the candles enveloped you both, blurring the lines between the life you were trying to fix and the passion that had always been your undoing.

You pushed Jaehyun down and his back hits the bath tub, slowly you straddle him kissing his neck and rubbing your hands all over his chest making him moan underneath you and for a moment you look up looking at him he says “Please I need you inside me now” you obliged no longer able to wait yourself too, you sink into his member in a slowly painful way, and his mouth form an “O” shape from the pleasure.

The water sloshes around you both as you lower yourself fully onto his thick cock, the stretch burning just right, making your breath hitch. Jaehyun's hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your skin with a roughness that sends sparks up your spine. He bucks up instinctively, thrusting deeper, and you gasp, nails scraping down his chest in retaliation, leaving red trails that make him hiss through clenched teeth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growls, voice low and ragged, eyes locked on yours with raw hunger. You start to move, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, feeling every ridge and vein of his shaft drag against your inner walls. But the need builds fast—too fast—and you pick up the pace, slamming down onto him harder, the water splashing over the tub's edge with each bounce.

Jaehyun doesn't stay passive. His grip tightens, one hand sliding up to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly before delivering a sharp smack that echoes in the steamy bathroom. The sting makes you clench around him involuntarily, pulling a deep groan from his throat. "That's it, ride me like you mean it," he demands, his other hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your neck. He latches on, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, marking you as his teeth graze just hard enough to border on pain.

You cry out, the mix of pleasure and edge pushing you closer to the brink. Your nails rake down his chest, leaving red trails over his toned muscles, and he hisses in response, thrusting up to meet your descent with brutal force. The rhythm turns frantic—wet slaps of skin on skin, your pussy gripping his cock like a vice as he pounds into you from below. Sweat and bathwater mix on your bodies, making everything slippery and intense.

"Harder," you whimper, leaning forward to capture his lips in a messy kiss, tongues clashing as you grind down. He obliges, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you in place while he drives up relentlessly, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. The roughness amps everything up—his fingers bruising your hips, the way he nips at your lower lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood, licking it away with a possessive swipe.

Tension coils tight in your core, every thrust pushing you higher. Jaehyun's breaths come in harsh pants against your mouth, his body tensing beneath you. "Come for me," he rasps, voice breaking as he slams up one last time, grinding deep. The command shatters you—your orgasm crashes over you in waves, pussy spasming around his cock, milking him as you scream his name. He follows seconds later, hips jerking erratically as he floods you with hot cum, filling you to the brim until it leaks out around where you're joined.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you heaving, the water settling into gentle ripples around your spent bodies. Jaehyun's arms wrap around you, holding you close with a tenderness that contrasts the roughness from moments before, his lips brushing your temple in a soft kiss.

The water had cooled slightly, the steam now a soft mist clinging to the candlelit air. The frantic energy of the last hour had ebbed away, leaving behind a heavy, vibrating silence. You sat in the curve of his arms, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing in the same humid air.

For the first time in a long time, the walls you’d built weren't just cracked—they were leveled. The wine had loosened the knot in your chest, but it was the heat of him, the physical reality of his presence, that finally pushed the truth to the surface.

"I ended it," you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft trickle of water.

Jaehyun’s body remained remarkably still. He didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, he let out a slow, measured exhale, his expression slipping into a quiet, almost detached nonchalance. He didn't ask who; he didn't need to. He knew the ghost that had been filling the spaces he left empty.

"With Mark," you continued, your voice gaining a fragile kind of strength as you looked him in the eye. "It’s over. For good. I saw him today... and I told him it was the last time."

Jaehyun closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the words. There was no theatrical shock or outburst of wounded pride. Deep down, the weight of his own transgressions—the nights he didn't come home and the scents he brought back—acted as a heavy anchor, keeping him from judging you. He knew he was far from sinless; he knew the glass house they lived in had been shattered by his own hands long ago.

"I’m not in a position to throw stones, Y/N," he murmured, his voice steady but low. "I’ve spent enough time being the villain in this story to know why you needed someone to play the hero."

He reached up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His touch was light, almost clinical in its calmness, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of raw regret. He didn't ask for details or apologies; he simply accepted the reality of their shared mess.

"I’m just glad you’re the one telling me," he added, his voice softening just a fraction. "I think we’ve both done enough apologizing in our heads. I just want to be the man who stays from now on."

You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man who had been hiding under the expensive suits. He looked human, and for the first time, he looked like he was actually present.

"Don't make me regret choosing this, Jaehyun," you said, a final warning wrapped in a plea.

"I won't," he promised, the nonchalance fading into a firm, quiet vow. "Starting with tomorrow. I'll be the one waking up with you."

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