Husbands (Hyunlix)

Season 2 (17)

The chairs were set in rows, too neat for a day like this. White flowers stood in quiet attention, but nothing bloomed in anyone's chest. Not today.

The air was thick. Not from the heat — it was a soft, overcast morning — but from everything unspoken.

He lay there, silent, in the casket that still didn't make sense. Just two nights ago, he'd laughed at dinner. Just yesterday, he'd told his son, "Take care of them after me." He hadn't known it was a goodbye. And now, here they were. Saying one.

Mrs. Hwang sat in the front row, her hands clasped too tightly in her lap. She hadn't cried since the night. Not a single tear. Just silence. People said grief looked like weeping. But sometimes, it looked like someone whose voice was stolen.

Yeji leaned into Ryujin's side, mascara streaked down both cheeks, her fingers trembling. She kept whispering, "He didn't even say goodbye...he didn't say anything."

And Hyunjin. He hadn't moved in hours. He stood by the casket long after everyone had taken their seats. His eyes were hollow, staring like he was still waiting for his father to breathe again, to sit up, to say it was a bad dream.

But the silence never cracked.

He clenched his fists, jaw tight. No tears — not yet. Just weight. So much weight. He wanted to scream. Instead, he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

Everyone turned to him.

"I wasn't ready," he began. His voice shook. "None of us were. He... he told me to take care of the family. I didn't know he meant now. I thought we had more time. We always think we do."

He took a pause to calm himself down.

"I don't know how to do this. But I know I'll try. I owe him that. We all do."

His voice cracked, and that was the only moment his mother finally looked up. Her lips parted — no words. Just a single nod, like a thread stitching them back together. 

And then the casket was lowered.

Hyunjin wanted to cry, to scream, to ask him why he left like this? Why not a better goodbye? 

But couldn't show up as weak in front of his mother and sister. He's the one who has to take care of them, he can't let her family see his weak side except one. 

But after everything, there was something odd. 

After The Funeral

The door creaked open and let them in like strangers.
Same home. Different world.

Shoes were taken off out of habit. Coats hung. No one spoke. Even the floorboards held their breath.

The parents' room still smelled faintly of his cologne — the one he used too much of. His cup still sat by the side table. Half full. As if he might walk in and finish it.

But he wouldn't.

Mrs. Hwang went straight to the kitchen. Not to cook — just to stand there. Her hand hovered over the kettle like it could anchor her. Then slowly, she lowered it and turned away. The chair he used to sit on was still pulled out. She stared at it for a long time. Didn't move it. Just walked past.

Yeji went upstairs. Her room, in Hyunjin's mansion, was filled with framed pictures of them — birthdays, holidays, blurry laughter. She turned one down. Just one. She didn't say why.

Hyunjin stood by the front door longer than anyone else. As if stepping in made it real. As if going inside meant accepting it.

He finally walked in, eyes scanning the house like it betrayed him. Nothing looked different. But everything was.