Never Ending Love

The Language of Love

"Silence may be comfortable, but it can't build a bridge. We had to speak our hearts, even when the words were hard, to find our way back to each other."

                                                               

Word Count: 1520

The air hung heavy in the expansive living room, the silence broken only by the soft tick of the grandfather clock. Lisa, perched on the plush armchair, cradled a picture book in her lap, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull ache in her chest. Her gaze darted between the book and her husband, Taehyung, who sat stiffly on the opposite sofa, brow furrowed in concentration on his phone.

Their five-year-old daughter, Yuki, bounced between them, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. "Mommy," she chirped, her voice brimming with innocent hope, "Can I have a little brother to play with?"

Lisa's heart squeezed. Taehyung, known for his playful demeanor with fans, rarely cracked a smile at home these days. The playful teasing, the stolen kisses, the warmth that once filled their bond seemed to have vanished like morning mist.

Taehyung grunted, not looking up from his phone. "We talked about this, Yuki. We don't have space for another right now." His voice was clipped, devoid of the usual gentle lilt.

Tears welled up in Yuki's eyes. "But Jisoo unnie has a baby brother! And Jennie auntie says babies are fun!"

Lisa forced a smile, her voice strained. "Maybe someday, sweetheart. But for now, you have Mommy and Daddy, and that's pretty special, isn't it?"

Yuki's lower lip trembled. "But Daddy's always busy."

A pang of hurt echoed in Lisa's chest. She knew Yuki missed the playful Taehyung, the one who'd built her elaborate pillow forts and told her silly bedtime stories. Lately, work seemed to consume him, his phone a constant barrier between them.

Placing the book on the coffee table, Lisa rose, her gaze fixed on Taehyung. "Honey, can we talk?"

Taehyung finally looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled his expression back into indifference. "What about?"

Lisa took a deep breath. "About us. About Yuki." She gestured to their daughter, who now sat by the window, clutching her stuffed bunny.

Taehyung sighed, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Later, Lisa. I have a deadline."

Lisa's heart clenched. This couldn't wait. "Taehyung," she said, her voice firm, "Later always turns into never. Our family needs you."

Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Then, with a defeated sigh, Taehyung set his phone down. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with a storm of unspoken emotions.

As they spoke, the weight of unspoken words lifted. Tears flowed, frustrations were aired, and a sliver of hope peeked through the cracks. Perhaps, with honest communication and a commitment to rekindle the spark, they could rebuild the warmth that had once filled their home.

There were no guarantees, no promises of a happily-ever-after. But for the first time in a long time, they were facing their reality together, as a family, with the flickering possibility of a brighter future.

Weeks bled into one another, each day marked by a suffocating silence. Taehyung, finally free from his work deadline, returned home with a lightness in his step, a bouquet of lilies – Lisa's favorite – clutched in his hand. He found her curled up on the sofa, a book in her lap, the very picture of tranquility, yet a storm raged behind her eyes.