Sehun my husband

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

(Y/N)'s POV

The sharp sound of my alarm echoed through the quiet room, breaking the stillness that had settled overnight. "Naerul winhae xo..." it played repeatedly until I finally stirred, letting out a soft groan as I reached toward the bedside table to turn it off. The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise itself, settling into the room like something unspoken. For a moment, I didn't move. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting my thoughts slowly catch up with the new day. It felt like any other morning—yet something about it felt different.

Slowly, I turned my head to the side, my gaze falling instinctively onto the empty space beside me. The sheets were cold, untouched, just as they had been for the past few days. My fingers brushed lightly against them, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. A small, bittersweet smile appeared on my lips.

Today, Sehun was coming home.

The thought alone made my chest tighten, a mixture of excitement and longing building up all at once. I pulled the blanket closer, burying my face briefly into the pillow that still faintly carried his scent. It had already begun to fade, but it was enough to make my heart ache just a little more. I missed him—more than I had expected to. It wasn't just his presence, but the small things. The way he would pull me closer in the mornings, half-asleep, mumbling words I could barely understand. The warmth of his arms. The quiet comfort of simply knowing he was there.

With a soft sigh, I forced myself to sit up. "Stop it..." I murmured, brushing my hair back. If I kept thinking like this, the wait would only feel longer.

After getting ready, I stepped into the living room, where sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting warm lines across the floor. The house looked the same as always—everything in its place—but it felt different. Too quiet. Too empty. I stood there for a moment, wrapping my arms loosely around myself, before reaching for the remote and turning on the television.

The familiar sound of "Eueurong eueurong dae..." filled the room, breaking the silence. I flipped through a few channels before settling on my favourite drama, High School Love On. But even as I sat there, my attention drifted. My eyes remained on the screen, yet my thoughts wandered elsewhere—back to him.

What should I do when he comes home?

Should I run to him? Hug him immediately?

Or act normal... like I wasn't counting every second?

A small laugh escaped me as I covered my face briefly. It felt ridiculous to be nervous around my own husband, and yet the feeling wouldn't go away.

Time slipped by quietly. The sunlight shifted, stretching further across the room as hours passed unnoticed. Shows changed, scenes played out, but I remained lost in my thoughts until something finally pulled me back.

6:00 PM.

My eyes widened.

"Oh no—!"

I jumped up quickly and rushed into the kitchen, tying my hair back in a hurry. I had promised myself everything would be ready before he arrived. I wanted it to be perfect—every little detail, every small effort.

Soon, the quiet house filled with the sounds of cooking. The soft rhythm of chopping, the gentle sizzle of food on the pan, the warmth of the stove wrapping around me. Gradually, the rich aroma spread through the house, making it feel less empty, less lonely—almost as if he was already there.

When everything was done, I stepped back, wiping my hands slowly as I looked at the table. There was more food than necessary, more effort than needed, but I didn't care. I wanted him to come home to something warm. Something comforting.