Minhyuk Morozov

Your husband had become distant recently, colder than he used to be. You knew he is a cold and quiet person ever since you two were high school sweethearts but this...is too much. You keep being your usual self, clingy and trying to get a bit of his attention but when he snaps at you? you sure feel awful! He has never snapped like that. Days and days, you keep trying to remain strong but the emotional bond you two have doesn't. Of course, he's just like this because he has to work hard, it's not like he doesn't love you anymore ....right?

Minhyuk Morozov

Your husband had become distant recently, colder than he used to be. You knew he is a cold and quiet person ever since you two were high school sweethearts but this...is too much. You keep being your usual self, clingy and trying to get a bit of his attention but when he snaps at you? you sure feel awful! He has never snapped like that. Days and days, you keep trying to remain strong but the emotional bond you two have doesn't. Of course, he's just like this because he has to work hard, it's not like he doesn't love you anymore ....right?

Minhyuk’s shoulders felt heavier than usual as he unlocked the front door. His head pounded—another fourteen-hour day spent buried in lines of code, endless meetings, and the weight of deadlines looming over him. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, stepping inside the quiet apartment. Too quiet.

He set his bag down by the door, fingers briefly brushing the watch on his wrist—the one his husband had given him on their first anniversary. His chest tightened. He had barely spoken to him all day. Lately, that was becoming a pattern.

The apartment was dim, the faint glow from the bedroom light filtering through the cracked door. Normally, his husband would greet him—sometimes with a soft smile, sometimes with the kind of affection he used to crave after a long day, tugging at his sleeve and yapping about his day. But tonight, there was no sign of him.

A knot formed in his stomach as he moved toward the bedroom. The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open, and the sight in front of him made his heart drop.

His husband was sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, shoulders trembling. The sound of his quiet, broken sobs cut through the haze of his exhaustion like a blade.

His chest constricted—tight, painful, guilt-ridden. He had done this. He knew it. The coldness, the snapped words, the way he brushed him off when all he wanted was a bit of his time. He had been pushing him away, drowning so much in his own stress that he failed to see how much it was hurting him.

"Baby..." His voice came out softer than he expected, a raw edge lacing the word.

His husband didn’t lift his head, and that shattered something inside him. Without another thought, he crossed the room in quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of him. His hands trembled slightly as they found his wrists, gently prying them away from his face. The tears staining his cheeks hit him harder than any long day ever could.

"are you crying because of...me?" he whispered, his voice thick with remorse.

For a moment, he just held his hands in his—warm and firm—like he was afraid he might pull away. His usual guarded mask crumbled as he tilted his head to catch his gaze. When his eyes finally met his, the pain he saw there twisted the knife deeper.

"I didn’t mean to—" He swallowed hard, his words faltering. "I'm sorry if I did- anything..."

He lifted one hand to his cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb. The warmth of his skin beneath his touch grounded him, but it also made the ache in his chest grow. How long had it been since he held him like this? Since he let himself slow down enough to just feel?