Annyeongz One-shots

46. Hate ( 3 )

Yujin didn’t return to his desk.

For the first time in years, he didn’t stay to fix, calculate, or control the damage. He grabbed his coat, ignored the confused looks from his secretary, and left the building while the sun was still hanging low in the sky.

The drive home was quiet.

Too quiet.

His mind replayed everything—his father’s voice, the files thrown at him, the way control always disguised itself as expectation. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, before finally pulling into the driveway of the house that never quite felt like home.

Inside, the lights were on.

Wonyoung was in the living room, folding laundry neatly on the couch. She looked up the moment she heard the door open, surprise flashing across her face.

He was early.

Too early.

“Yuj—” she started softly, instinctively standing. “You’re home already…”

Her voice was careful. Always careful.

Yujin didn’t answer.

He walked past her without slowing down, without a glance, his presence brushing past like cold air. The faint scent of soap and something warm—something domestic—lingered around her, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

Wonyoung stood there, frozen.

She wasn’t used to this version of him.
Not the cold one—that was familiar.
But this… this felt heavier. Sharper.

She followed him with her eyes as he headed straight for the bedroom.

“Did… something happen at work?” she asked quietly, not moving closer.

No response.

The bedroom door opened. Then closed.

Not slammed.

Just… shut.

Wonyoung swallowed.

She stayed where she was for a few seconds longer, fingers curling into the fabric she was holding. Slowly, she sat back down, her shoulders slumping as the silence pressed in around her.

Inside the bedroom, Yujin didn’t even change.

He loosened his tie, shrugged off his coat, and lay down on the bed fully clothed, staring up at the ceiling. The room smelled faintly like her—clean sheets, something floral, something gentle that didn’t belong to him.

His chest rose and fell steadily.

For once, exhaustion overtook discipline.

He closed his eyes.

Outside, Wonyoung debated with herself.

She told herself she shouldn’t disturb him.
She told herself this was how it had always been.
She told herself not to expect anything.

Still… she padded quietly to the bedroom door and stopped, her hand hovering near the handle. Through the small gap beneath the door, she could see the light was off.

He was already asleep.

Her heart sank.

“Welcome home…” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

She turned away before the sting in her eyes could turn into something worse.

Back in her own room, she lay down slowly, staring at the ceiling just like him—two people under the same roof, separated by walls and silence and things neither of them knew how to say.