ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴꜱ| ateez

✭𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍✭

✭WOOYOUNG ✭

The next few days had been rather tough. Jihoon made an effort initially, but it didn't take long for him to slip back into his old ways. After our heart-to-heart talk, he assured me he would do his best to change, but the relentless rumors swirling around us continued to cast a shadow over our relationship. While deep down, I trusted him and believed he was better than infidelity, the constant speculation gnawed at my confidence.

The responsibilities of parenthood weighed heavily on him, and it was clear that he struggled to adapt. His promises, once reassuring, now felt like empty words. I found myself in a state of perpetual uncertainty, staring at the newspaper in my hands. Did he actually cheat? Or was it merely sensationalized paparazzi talk, a cruel fabrication of our private lives for public consumption?

The door creaked open, and Jihoon stepped inside, looking surprisingly less intoxicated than the last time. However, his posture was stiff, and he avoided my gaze when I threw the newspaper at his feet. It lay there, a harsh reminder of the doubts that had been festering between us. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the moment where our relationship would reach a breaking point or if we could somehow find a way to rebuild the trust that had been eroded by the relentless scrutiny of our lives in the public eye.

The room was tense, heavy with unspoken words. Jihoon's eyes flickered from the crumpled newspaper at his feet to my expectant gaze. I could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was mixed with something else, something I couldn't quite decipher. Was it remorse, frustration, or simply exhaustion from the constant scrutiny we faced as public figures and fathers?

I finally broke the silence, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "Jihoon, we need to talk about this. I can't keep living like this, not knowing what's real and what's just tabloid nonsense."

He sighed, finally meeting my gaze, his shoulders slumping. "I know, and I'm sorry, but you have to understand, it's not easy. The pressure, the expectations... it's suffocating sometimes."

Tension hung in the air as I stood up from the sofa, my heart heavy with doubt and frustration. I nodded towards the newspaper on the floor and took a step closer to Jihoon. His nervousness was palpable, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

"It's like this every single time," I said, my voice tinged with exasperation, "I'm asking you, did you do it?"

Jihoon's gaze faltered, and he clenched his fists nervously, refusing to meet my eyes. The silence between us was deafening, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. I knew that the truth, whatever it may be, was the only way we could move forward. But in that moment, all I wanted was an honest answer from the person I loved, no matter how painful it might be.

The seconds ticked by like hours, each passing moment filled with the weight of our unspoken emotions. I could see the turmoil in Jihoon's eyes, a battle between the fear of confessing and the desire to salvage what was left of our relationship.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my own racing heart. "Jihoon," I implored softly, "we can't keep avoiding this. I need to know the truth, even if it's painful. Did you cheat, or is this all just fabricated?"

He finally looked up, his gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, it seemed like he might reveal the answers I sought. But then, he hesitated, his lips trembling as if struggling to form the words. I could feel the anticipation building, the hope that this might be the moment of clarity we needed.