The argument

The sound of sweeping echoed through the hallway—slow, methodical strokes against the old wooden floor. Dust lifted in soft clouds, golden in the morning light.

Tae moved carefully, almost reverently, his eyes scanning every corner of the mansion like he was relearning an old memory. The stillness was familiar to him. Comforting.

The kitchen smelled like coffee, but the air was colder than it should’ve been.

But it didn’t stay quiet for long.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He looked up just as she descended, hair in a loose bun, robe flowing behind her like a whisper. Her expression was blank, but her eyes briefly landed on him—just for a second—before flicking away like he wasn’t worth noticing.

She entered the kitchen without a word.

She reached for the sugar jar instead.

Silence hung between them like wet laundry.

Tae hesitated in the hallway, broom still in hand. Thinking if he should greet her or not,

Jungkook followed moments later, his gaze softening when he saw her.

“You’re up early,” he offered.

She didn’t reply. The sound of a kettle being filled was her answer.

He stepped further in. “I was thinking we could go into town later. Get some things for the house. Maybe have lunch—”

She cut him off. “You don’t have to pretend, Jungkook.”

He stopped.

“I’m not pretending,” he said.

She turned to face him, voice calm but cold. “You always remember I’m your wife when it’s convenient. When your chapters are done, when the silence gets too loud, or when there’s someone else watching.”

His eyes darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You let a stranger into the house without asking me. He just shows up, and you act like it’s normal.”

Jungkook’s tone sharpened. “I didn’t plan this. He offered to help. God knows this place needs it.”

She scoffed. “No—what you need is a distraction. From me. From us.”

Their voices rose.

“I brought you here to fix things!” Jungkook snapped. “You said we were falling apart. I thought—”

She laughed bitterly. “You didn’t bring me here. You brought your guilt. Your obsession. I was just... packed in the luggage.”

Tae stood at the end of the hall, watching silently.

His fingers tightened around the broom handle.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But something in his eyes—uncertainty, sorrow, something deeper—lingered as the couple’s voices echoed down the empty walls.

Finally, she walked past Jungkook and out the back door without another word.

Jungkook stood still, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling.

And then he noticed Tae.

Their eyes met.

Neither spoke.

But for a moment, it felt like TAE could hear everything he wasn’t saying.

The silence after the argument felt heavier than any shouting.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.

Jungkook felt something stirring inside him—a pull, a tug at his chest, like could see inside his thoughts. Could hear the things Jungkook kept buried deep.

It was strange. Almost too intimate for someone he barely knew.

But there it was. An unspoken connection, one that went beyond words.

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