secret story | jeno x reader

Chapter1: Cold

y/n's POV

He ignored me again, which irked me so much. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, but today it got to me more than usual. The cold demeanor, the lack of eye contact, the way his jaw clenched in silent frustration—Jeno had been like this for days. And I couldn't figure out why.

I'd been patient. At first, I chalked it up to his usual stress from work. His days were long and exhausting; being an Oral & Maxillofacial Surgeon required intense focus, and Jeno took his work seriously. But something had shifted recently. The silent treatment, the short answers, the way he avoided any real conversation—it felt personal now.

I turned him around, grabbing his arm a little too harshly, making him face me. His eyes finally met mine, dark and unreadable. A wave of frustration surged inside me. "I am asking you something. Why are you doing this? Can't you talk to me with a little more patience? Always in a grumpy mood. At least, you can answer me normally..."

He sighed, pulling his arm away gently but firmly. "Y/n, I'm tired. I don't have the energy for this right now."

I scoffed. That was always his excuse these days. "That's not a reason, Jeno. You've been distant for days—weeks, even. You shut me out like I'm not even here. What's going on?"

His eyes flickered, his expression softening for a brief second before he hardened again. He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know, okay? I just... I need space."

Space? That word hit me like a slap. What did he mean, he needed space? We were engaged, living together, our lives intertwined in every way. How was he just going to ask for space when we shared everything?

"Space?" I repeated, my voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Is that what this is about? You need space from me?"

He didn't answer. His silence was louder than any words could be. I felt a lump forming in my throat, the heat of unshed tears stinging my eyes. I fought them back, refusing to let him see how much his coldness affected me.

"Fine," I whispered, stepping back. "If you need space, then take it. But don't expect me to just sit here waiting while you figure out whatever the hell is going on with you."

I walked away, my heart pounding in my chest. The hurt gnawed at me, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words cut. I had given him everything—my trust, my love, my loyalty—and this was what I got in return? A cold shoulder and a request for space?

The apartment felt too big, too empty as I walked down the hall toward our bedroom. The silence echoed around me, filling the space with an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the framed photo on the nightstand—one of our engagement party, both of us smiling, happy, so full of promise for the future.

What had changed? We used to be so connected, so in sync with each other. I thought our engagement was the start of something beautiful, a solidifying of our bond, but now... it felt like he was slipping away. And I didn't know how to stop it.

The next few days were tense. Jeno and I barely spoke. He was always either at the hospital or holed up in his office, working late hours, avoiding any real interaction. I tried to keep myself busy—appointments, meetings, anything to distract myself from the growing distance between us.

But the silence was unbearable.

One evening, after another long day of avoidance, I couldn't take it anymore. I found him sitting on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, his posture rigid. The air between us felt thick, heavy with words unsaid.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to him, determined to break the wall that had grown between us. "Jeno, we need to talk."

He didn't look up from his phone. "Not now, y/n."

"Yes, now." My voice was firmer than I expected, surprising even myself. "We can't keep doing this. You can't keep shutting me out like this. If something's wrong, tell me. We're supposed to be partners."

Finally, he put the phone down, his gaze meeting mine. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe? But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he muttered. "Work's been stressful. I'm just trying to handle it."

"That's not it, and you know it." I leaned in closer, my heart racing. "This isn't just about work. It's about us. You've been pulling away for weeks now. I don't even feel like I know you anymore. What happened to us, Jeno?"

His expression softened for a moment, and I thought maybe—just maybe—he would finally open up. But instead, he shook his head, leaning back against the couch, as if trying to create more space between us.

"Things have just... changed," he said, his voice low. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Changed how?" My chest tightened. "What are you saying, Jeno?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between me and the floor. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the internal battle he was fighting. But instead of opening up, he just sighed again, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"I'm just tired, y/n," he said softly. "Tired of everything. I need time to figure things out."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. He needed time to figure things out? What did that even mean? Was he second-guessing our engagement? Our entire relationship?

"You're tired?" I repeated, my voice shaking. "I don't understand. We're supposed to be a team, Jeno. You don't just shut me out because you're tired. We can work through this—whatever it is. But you have to talk to me."

He looked away again, his jaw clenched tightly. "I don't have the answers right now, y/n. I wish I did, but I don't."

A wave of frustration washed over me. How could he not have answers? We were supposed to be building a life together, planning a future. How could he just say he didn't know?

I stood up, pacing the room, my mind racing. I couldn't let this go on like this. The silence, the distance—it was killing me. I needed him to open up, to tell me what was really going on.

"I can't keep doing this, Jeno," I finally said, my voice breaking. "I can't keep feeling like I'm losing you."

His head snapped up, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of emotion—regret, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by that same unreadable mask he'd been wearing for weeks.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," he said quietly. "I just... need time."

I stared at him, my heart aching. Time. It felt like such a cop-out answer, like he was avoiding the real issue. But what could I do? I couldn't force him to open up. And I couldn't keep pushing if he wasn't ready.

So I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay. Take your time. But don't expect me to wait forever."

With that, I turned and left the room, the weight of his silence pressing down on me like a heavy cloud.