The little beer shop was dimly lit and smelled faintly of old wood and hops. It was quiet inside, with just a handful of booths lining the wall. Minji followed me in, hugging my jacket closer around herself, and I guided her toward an empty booth near the window.

I headed to the counter to grab us two bottles.

When I came back, I placed the beer in front of her with a satisfied smirk. “Told you I’d get you the best.”

Minji snorted faintly, her fingers curling around the cold bottle. “It’s literally cheap beer, Tae.”

“Hey, cheap doesn’t mean bad,” I shot back, popping the cap off my bottle. “It’s all about the experience.”

She shook her head but didn’t argue, finally taking a small sip. The silence stretched for a moment, and I watched her closely—watched the way her fingers fidgeted around the bottle, the way her gaze stayed downcast despite the warmth inside.

“So…” I started slowly, breaking the silence. “You gonna tell me what happened back there?”

She exhaled deeply, her shoulders rising and falling before she finally met my gaze. Her eyes looked tired—so damn tired—and I hated it.

“It’s just…” she began quietly, her voice small. “I feel like I’m losing everything. I keep trying to hold things together, but it doesn’t matter what I do. It’s never enough for him.”

Jungkook. The unspoken name hung in the air between us like a dark cloud.

“I try to be the perfect wife. I try not to complain. But it feels like he doesn’t see me anymore, like I’m just… there.”

—-

[Minji's POV]

I don’t know how much time had passed. The cheap beer sat half-empty on the table, Taehyung across from me, staring quietly as though he was waiting for me to breathe again. It was funny how one person’s silence could feel so comforting, like it was nudging me gently to speak.

And so I did.

“It’s been five years,” I started suddenly, my voice trembling against the weight of the confession. “Five years since Jungkook and I last had sex…” I trailed off, my fingers nervously tracing the condensation on the beer bottle.

Taehyung blinked, confused at first, and then his eyes widened slightly in realization.

“Wait—five years?” he repeated, like he needed me to confirm it.

I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “We haven’t been intimate in five years, Tae. Five years.”

He looked stunned—like I had slapped him across the face. But he didn’t say anything, and maybe that’s what gave me the courage to keep talking.

“It’s not just me, you know,” I murmured, my voice quieter now. “It’s not like I don’t try. God knows how hard I’ve tried to keep us together, to keep myself from feeling like there’s something… wrong with me.”

“God, no. Minji, there's nothing wrong with you. If anything, it's with your husband who's making you feel like this!”

I looked away from him, my cheeks heating up in shame.

“Do you want to know why?” I asked bitterly, my lips quivering. “Why we don’t—why he can’t—”

“Minji, you don’t have to—”

“It’s because of his size,” I blurted out, ignoring the way his eyes nearly popped out of his head. My heart raced painfully, shame and guilt swirling in my chest like a storm. “His small… size. He’s insecure about it. And it’s not his fault, I know it’s not, but Tae… we’re married. What am I supposed to do?”

For a long moment, Taehyung didn’t speak. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, my hands curling tightly around the beer bottle to keep from trembling.

Finally, I heard him clear his throat, his voice careful when he asked, 

“And you… you still want to try? Despite knowing that he can't…. Satisfy you …”

I laughed bitterly, a broken sound that hurt my throat. “Of course I do, Tae. I want to feel like a wife. Like a woman. I want to become a mother—I’ve always wanted to be a mother—but how can I? How can I when he won’t even look at me that way?”

I felt tears building again, and I blinked them away furiously. “Do you know what I did?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I tried to force it once. I thought if I pushed hard enough, maybe I'll get pregnant. But I took advantage of him being drugged. Does that make a h-horrible person? To try doing it with my own husband just because he won't do it? For 5 years?”

“Maybe it was a crime,” I choked out. “Maybe I’m a terrible person for even wanting something he can’t give me.”

“Minji.”

Taehyung’s voice was firm this time, and when I finally looked up at him, I saw anger in his eyes—not at me, but at the situation.

“You’re not wrong for wanting that,” he said sharply. “You’re not terrible. You’re not selfish. You’re married, Minji. Sex isn’t some dirty thing you’re asking for—it’s normal. It’s the foundation of any marriage, and if he’s not giving you that, then it’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“No.” He cut me off, shaking his head. “You’re one of the most diligent wives I’ve ever seen. You take care of him, you’ve given him everything. If the one thing you want—something so basic, so simple—if he can’t give you that, then he’s the one who needs to look in the mirror, not you.”

I blinked, taken aback by the passion in his voice. He was angry—angrier than I’d ever seen him—but it wasn’t at me.

“At least you’re not like those other women,” he muttered, his tone dripping with bitterness. “The ones who keep demanding more and more, like nothing is ever enough. Some women’s demands never end, but you—you’re not like that. You’re asking for something that any husband should give his wife without question.”

Something about his words made me pause. I tilted my head slightly, frowning as I studied his face. “What do you mean?” I asked quietly. “What’s that supposed to mean about ‘other women’?”

Taehyung’s expression shifted. He looked away, sighing deeply as he leaned back in his seat. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” I replied softly, watching him carefully.

His lips quirked into a humorless smile, his eyes distant. “It’s just Sitara and me. That’s all.”

“Sitara?” I asked, the name falling off my tongue like a whisper. “She… she demands too much from you?”

He exhaled a humorless laugh. “She wants more than I can give. And somehow, it’s always my fault.”

[Flashback - Taehyung's POV]

I remember when we first started dating. Everything was easy. Simple. I was just a guy who wanted to spend time with her, and she made it feel effortless. 

We’d meet up on weekends, grab a coffee or have dinner in a little restaurant tucked away from the bustling city streets. There was no rush, no need to worry about schedules. Just the two of us, living in the moment.

“Are you free this Friday?” I’d ask, hopeful.

“Oh Tae baby. I have a company dinner on Friday, but you know what? I think I can manage. Won't wanna miss a chance to spend time with you. Can we just keep the date in daytime? I'd need to be at the company at 7pm.” she’d reply, glancing at her phone. 

Back then, I didn’t think much of it. She worked hard, and I admired her for it.

Jungkook had always been a part of her world, but it didn’t feel like a problem. We were dating, we were happy, and I had no reason to question her commitment.

Then came marriage, and the world started changing.

We got married after dating for three years. At first, it was wonderful. We were finally living together, creating a life. But that honeymoon phase? It didn’t last long.

Sitara’s job as Jungkook’s assistant was demanding. She’d work late into the night, sometimes not coming home until 9 pm or even later.

I remember those nights, the long, lonely evenings where I’d wait for her. Her phone calls, always rushed, never enough time to ask how she was doing.

“I’ll be home soon, Tae,” she’d tell me, voice faint. “Just have to wrap up a few things here at the office.”

I’d hear the sounds of voices in the background, usually Jungkook’s, laughing, discussing some project or another. Then, always a polite apology to me.

“Sorry, Taehyungie hyung. She’s needed here for a bit longer for the Government tender file management. We really need to get the papers in ECR’s office the first thing tomorrow in the morning. Your wife here seemed to have forgotten to make some corrections and I'm also sitting here helping her finish off so that she can go back home sooner. Hope you don’t mind.”

I’d smile and nod, even though I couldn’t hide the frustration that built in my chest. She was working late. Fine. But the weird, sinking feeling wouldn’t leave me. I’d hear him in the background, and every time, it was like something inside of me twisted. 

Why did it feel like she was more his than mine? 

Why did it feel like their connection was deeper than ours?

One evening, she asked me a question that shattered me even more. I’d been sitting at the dining table, picking at my food. She had just gotten back from a late meeting, her heels clicking as she entered the house.

“You know,” she said, taking a seat across from me, “when everything gets back to normal, we could talk about starting a family. We can have a baby.”

I stared at her, the words hanging between us like a cruel joke. It felt like a slap to the face.

“Really? You’re bringing that up now?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “We’re barely keeping this marriage together, and you’re talking about having a baby?”

She frowned, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m serious, Tae. We’ve both been busy, but when things settle down, we’ll talk about it. I want that too.”

“I don’t think I can trust that anymore,” I muttered under my breath, the words bitter as they left my mouth. “You talk about having a baby like we’re some perfect couple. We’re not. And you know it.”

I didn’t even let her respond. I stood up and walked out of the room, the harsh words already hanging in the air like poison.

I heard her calling after me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about her plans for the future. I didn’t care about starting a family with someone who had already proven that she couldn’t be trusted. We had nothing left.

One night, I’d planned something special. It was our engagement anniversary, and yeah, I know, it was a bit extra. People usually celebrated their wedding anniversary, but I wanted to do something for her. I cooked, set the table with candles, laid out everything she loved. The food was amazing—everything I knew she’d like. But she didn’t come home.

I checked my phone, nothing. I called, and her voice mail picked up.

So, I waited.

And waited.

Then, when she finally called back, I could hear Jungkook’s voice again, faint but still there.

“Sorry, Tae,” he said, sounding apologetic. “I know it’s late, but we’ve got an important project coming up, and Sitara’s still helping. She’s staying a bit longer. I hope you understand.”

I cut the call short. The food I’d spent hours preparing, still warm but untouched. The night, once full of promise, turned into something hollow.

I sat there in silence, staring at the table, my stomach empty despite the food. I wanted to be angry, to scream. But I didn’t. I just... sat there. It hurt, more than I cared to admit.

And that was when I started to feel it. The growing gap between us. The way she was slipping further away.

I’d had enough.

It was late again. She walked in like she always did—tired, a little disheveled, and smelling like expensive perfume and whiskey. I didn’t even bother hiding the resentment anymore. She knew it. I knew it. And frankly, neither of us cared enough to pretend it wasn’t there.

“Let me guess,” I started, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Another night of important work with Jungkook, huh? That’s why you’re late?”

She gave me one of her signature dismissive looks. “Tae, stop. It’s just work, nothing more.” She tried to brush past me, but I wasn’t having it.

“Just work?” I scoffed. “Right, that’s what you’ve been saying for months now. Every damn night it’s just work with him. You’d think the guy runs a country, not a gaming company.”

She rolled her eyes, and I could see the irritation bubbling up. “Tae, I’m not in the mood for this.” She threw her purse on the couch and moved toward the kitchen, clearly trying to avoid the conversation.

“Of course, you're not. You never are.” I followed her, unable to stop myself. “You know, I keep hearing this damn excuse, and I'm getting real sick of it. Just work. That’s rich. How come ‘just work’ always has you staying late, coming home smelling like cologne and liquor? Oh, wait, don’t tell me. The clients at those gala dinners have such exquisite taste, huh?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face me. “Tae, this is ridiculous. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“No, of course not,” I shot back bitterly. “You’re just out there living your best life, with your boss, at his business dinners, his business galas. And here I am, alone, waiting like a damn fool.” I let out a humorless laugh. 

“And the cherry on top? I get to hear him call me and apologize like a saint, like it’s some noble sacrifice. ‘Oh, Tae, we’re working so hard, I’m really sorry. I hope you don’t mind.’ Mind? Oh, I’m thrilled.”

Her face tightened, the defensiveness creeping in. “You’re overreacting. Jungkook is my boss, and I’m just doing my job. Why are you making this so complicated?”

“Because you’re not home when you should be, Sitara. Because you’ve got your work husband who needs you more than your actual husband does. But hey, as long as you’ve got a fresh bottle of expensive perfume, I’m sure you’re all set, right?”

“Why don’t you just admit it?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re so busy with your work, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be married. To actually be here. Oh wait, that’s not true, is it? You’ve got time to laugh with him, to eat dinner with him, but when it’s time for your husband—the one who’s been waiting for you—what do I get? Cold food and a wife who’s always ‘working.’”

“Really, Tae?” she spat, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You’re accusing me of being some kind of cheating bitch, but let’s talk about the reality for a second. Let’s talk about who’s been holding us up for the last few months. Let’s talk about what you’ve been doing, shall we?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she didn’t give me the chance.

“You really think I’m out here just enjoying myself with Jungkook?” She laughed bitterly. “Do you think I want to be doing this? You want to talk about what you’ve brought to the table lately? Oh, wait, I’m sorry. Let me remind you—nothing. Absolutely nothing. Your precious little export business that you thought would bring in the money? Guess what? Post-COVID? You’re practically drowning in losses, Tae.”

I winced, the sting of her words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. She was right. My business, which had once been something I was proud of, was failing. But I wasn’t ready to admit that out loud yet.

She continued, her tone growing sharper with every word. “But hey, don’t worry. It’s not like we’re starving or anything, right? Oh wait, we’re surviving—barely—on my income. And not just that. A portion of my salary is going straight into your sinking business, trying to cover the losses while you sit at home, cooking fancy dinners when you know I'm working 2 shifts!”

She was breathing hard, her face flushed with frustration. “You want to talk about how much you’re doing for this family, Tae? You really want to sit there and accuse me of being disloyal when I’m busting my ass for us? Do you have any idea what I’ve had to sacrifice just to keep us afloat? Let’s talk about that.”

I had no answer. I just stood there, staring at her, feeling smaller by the second.

“I offered to work full-time for Jungkook,” she went on, her voice now laced with sarcasm. “Do you know why? Because I needed the extra money, Tae. You think I wanted to give up my evenings and weekends to work for him? But what choice did I have? Your business was failing, and someone had to step up, right? So I became his full-time assistant—for what? To hear my husband accuse my boss who has been nothing but kind to me and raised my paycheck knowing. I'm in a probme. And don’t even start with me about how I’m with him too much. You think this is all about him? You think I’m doing this for fun?”

“Do you have any idea why Jungkook would go out of his way and call you to assure you? He always thought that because I'm working overtime, you must be worried sick about me. If I ate well, if in drinking enough water or not, if I'm able to get rest or if I'm just working like a machine! He called his FRIEND to assure him that his WIFE is okay and he was just fulfilling his duty as a friend to ensure you didn't have any problems.”

My chest tightened. Every word she spoke cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

But the bitter anger still festered in me. “So you’re his full time assistant now?” I spat, sarcasm dripping from my words. 

“What, you’re just always with him now? You can’t even hide it anymore. Every time I try to get close, you’re out there working for him, helping him with whatever. Maybe it’s not just about the money after all, huh? Maybe it’s about something else. Maybe it’s about something you’re not telling me.”

I saw her face harden, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “You really think I’m out here running to him for pleasure, Tae? Is that what you believe? Because if you think I’m doing this just to get close to him, then maybe you’re the one who needs to open your eyes.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re sitting here complaining about what you don’t have. If I didn’t work like I do, we’d be screwed. So you know what? I’m going to keep doing my job, and you can keep pretending you’re too good to get a grip on your own life.”

The words hit me harder than I was ready for. I wanted to say something—anything—but I couldn’t

My trust in Sitara was breaking. 

I knew she had reasons to be late, but how could I be okay with so many adjustments? 

I understand her perspective, but the fact that Sitara didn't even have the courage to say that it'll be fine soon, or reassure him that she'll be back to him soon, haunted.

I felt like I'm losing Sitara forever.

–

It’s been a few months since everything changed, but I still can’t get over the way things turned out. Things have only gotten worse since that argument. 

We used to have a connection—something real—but now, it feels like we’re strangers, just going through the motions of a life we’re both too tired to fight for.

When my business finally recovered, I thought, maybe this is the turning point. Maybe now we can go back to what we had before—before all the accusations, before the lies. Maybe Sitara would finally have time for me, like she used to. I was wrong.

She started to make an effort, I’ll give her that. She actually started being there for me again, trying to fix things. She was so eager, so full of hope, like we could just erase everything that had happened and start fresh.

She’d leave little notes for me, sometimes cook dinner when I’d return from the port. She was trying to act like the old Sitara, but I couldn’t look at her the same way anymore. The damage had already been done.

I watched her, from the kitchen, from the couch, as she smiled and tried to talk to me like we could pretend nothing was broken. But every word she spoke sounded like a lie to me. Every touch felt like a betrayal.

She’d ask me if I wanted to go out for a date night, try to plan trips for us like we were some newlyweds. But how could I? How could I ever believe in her again? How could I forget what I’d seen, what I’d suspected? 

Her working those late hours with Jungkook, the perfume that wasn’t hers, the too late phone calls with him—how could I just sweep all of that under the rug so quickly?

I needed time to heal.

Unfortunate for me, Sitara was impatient and wanted everything back as normal asap.

I could've given her everything back to normal, if she continued with her efforts.

Sadly, after some time, she was too restless and had given up.

I started avoiding her. At first, it was little things. I started taking more trips to the port, even though I didn’t need to be there. I just couldn’t stand being in the same house as her.

I told myself I was just busy with work, but honestly, I was scared. Scared of what she might do next. Scared of how much further this would go. 

And part of me was scared of how easy it was to pull away from her. It felt natural at that point, like it was the only thing that made sense. 

So I did it more. I’d leave the house early, go to the port, sit there, and wait for shipments that didn’t even need my attention. I needed distance from her, and being alone was the only way I could feel sane again.

But I could see the frustration in her eyes as she tried, really tried, to reach out to me. I couldn’t bring myself to answer her. At night, she’d ask if I wanted to talk, but I’d just pretend I was tired, or that I had some kind of work to do.

There were days when she’d try again—bring up the baby talk, ask me if I’d like to do something special, but I couldn’t get past the feeling that everything was slipping further and further away. I wanted her to fight for me, but every time I saw her, all I saw was someone who’d already given up.

I wanted to be mad at her. I wanted to yell at her, tell her she was wrong, but something stopped me. Maybe it was because deep down, I knew it was over. And I couldn’t face that truth.

Now, when she’d look at me with that frustrated, broken expression, I couldn’t bring myself to care. The effort she put into fixing things, into trying to make me feel like we could fix it all, only made things worse. It reminded me of how broken everything was. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Perhaps she was already tired of my constant accusations.

What I failed to see that while I was dying in insecurities, she was also dying for my love. 

We both were getting hurt at that time but I only saw my hurt. 

I should've known that she isn't enjoying working late and being away from loving her husband, but I guess I only saw my perspective. 

I didn't care to think of her perspective at all.

When financially, things went wrong, I withdrew. I know I was tired, so I withdrew, wanting her to take the first step again.

But what I overlooked was that she was tired too.

She was tired of our separation already because of her work and my rejection to her efforts was her last straw and that broke her. 

We both broke. She tried a little bit even after breaking, but we couldn't pick the pieces back.

[FLASHBACK OVER]