Tethered by Rivalry | Eunwoo

4

The months following the wedding blurred into a haze of academic pressure and mounting expectations. As a graduating student, the inevitable stress of finishing your thesis, midterm exams, and preparations for the next steps in life weighed you down terribly. You threw yourself into your work, determined to finish your thesis strong. Science had always been your refuge, a place where everything made sense, where variables could be controlled—unlike the unpredictable nature of your new relationship with Eunwoo.

Eunwoo, on the other hand, found himself in a strange place. For years, you had been his rival, the person who drove him to push harder, to never settle for second place. But now, living together, he began to notice things about you that unsettled him. It was in the little moments—how you focused so intensely while researching late into the night, the way you looked attractive with glasses, how you bit your lip in concentration while typing out your findings, and in ways you would sometimes mutter to yourself when solving a particularly tricky problem.

He tried to shake it off, tell himself it was just admiration for your work ethic. But it wasn’t just that. There were moments when he found himself watching you a little too long, wondering what it would feel like to support you in more ways than just competition. The feeling crept up on him slowly, like a fog that he couldn’t shake.

And then slowly, there came the small acts of service. At first, they were unconscious—grabbing an extra cup of coffee for you when he knew you’d be up late working, staying a little longer in the library when he noticed you struggling with something, even quietly organizing the kitchen after you’d left it in a mess during one of your late-night study sessions.

But each time, the realization of what he was doing hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d freeze, guilt and confusion knotting inside him. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. You were still his rival, still the person he competed against, the one he had to outshine. This wasn’t part of the plan.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of thesis work, you slumped down at the dining table, exhaustion etched on your face. You didn’t ask for anything, but when you weren’t looking, Eunwoo quietly prepared a cup of tea and set it down in front of you without a word. You blinked, surprised, but didn’t say anything. It was becoming a strange routine—the silent ways he was helping you without acknowledging it.

But just as quickly as the softness appeared, Eunwoo would pull back. The next day, he’d act as if nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t spent the night before quietly cleaning up the mess you left behind in your stress. He’d retreat into his competitive nature, throwing himself into his own work, but it felt hollow.

He couldn’t figure it out. Part of him wanted to keep helping you, to be there for you in ways that had nothing to do with rivalry. But the other part—the part that had been so ingrained in competition for years—fought back, telling him that getting too close to you would be a mistake. That it would cloud his focus, make him weak.

Outside his inner battles, you barely noticed the shift in Eunwoo. You were too consumed with your thesis, too focused on making sure every detail was perfect. The defense was only a few months away, and you couldn’t afford any distractions. Not even him. But even as you ignored it, the tension between you both simmered, an unspoken battle of wills that neither of you was ready to acknowledge yet.