❝ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐲 ❞- ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxQᴜɪꜱɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ.
In the heart of Seoul, two strangers, Lee Minho and Han Jisung, are inexplicably united through their dreams. Every night, Minho, a software deve...
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♥༻∞ Lee Minho ∞༺♥
- ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ-
Over the past two months, our lives had spiraled into an unanticipated whirlwind of chaos, starkly contrasting our typical routine dominated by Jisung's fervent novel writing and the relentless demands of my own career. By the time evening descended, we were invariably ensnared by a profound exhaustion—so much so that we often found ourselves inadvertently succumbing to sleep, whether sprawled across the sofa or submerged in the depths of our bed. Yet, beneath this veneer of fatigue, a subtle yet unmistakable transformation in Jisung began to surface, disturbing the tranquil equilibrium of our existence.
Something elusive was amiss, discernible in the way he meticulously avoided my gaze during our morning exchanges across the breakfast table, or how he seemed to retreat into a shell of introspection during our cozy movie nights. His presence, typically vibrant and engaging, had begun to fade into a shadow of detachment, his focus drifting into the ether, leaving a palpable void between us. The air, once buoyant with our shared laughter and seamless conversations, now crackled with the tension of thoughts left unvoiced and emotions carefully masked.
Our once sporadic disagreements had begun to weave themselves into the fabric of our daily interactions with alarming frequency and intensity. Jisung's behavior, increasingly enigmatic, ignited a flicker of suspicion within me. However, deeply entwined with his spirit as I was, I swiftly quelled any fleeting thoughts of infidelity. It was not the specter of another that haunted his recent demeanor; it was something far more profound, a burden he bore silently.
Compounding the mystery, even Felix and Changbin, whose demeanor around me was typically characterized by openness and joviality, had taken to a conspicuous reticence. Their interactions with me were now punctuated by hushed tones and evasive glances, further thickening the air with an almost tangible sense of secrecy. Whatever was gnawing at Jisung had seemingly been confided in whispered solidarity to these close confidants, leaving me to navigate the murky waters of uncertainty, piecing together the fragments of a puzzle to which I had not been granted the full picture.
I rubbed my face, gazing out of the bedroom window as I pulled the covers closer around me, a brief moment of respite before facing the day. Peeking at the clock confirmed it was time to rise and prepare dinner, but the apartment demanded my attention first. Slipping from the comforting embrace of the bed, I donned a pair of comfortable tracksuits and an oversized jumper, padding softly into the living room. The silence there hung heavy, unbroken, as if waiting for someone to shatter it.
The room was a landscape of chaos, strewn with papers and Jisung's laptop, a testament to his nocturnal labors on the better nights. Methodically, I began to organize, lifting each piece of paper with a sigh, stacking them into a semblance of order. As I tidied, my hand paused, drawn to a piece of correspondence that seemed out of place among the mundane bills and notes.
