Sehun my husband

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

(Y/N)'s POV

The walk home didn't feel real.

It wasn't that I didn't know where I was going—I did. My feet followed the same path they had taken countless times before, turning corners without hesitation, stopping at crossings out of habit rather than awareness. Everything around me continued the way it always did. Cars passed by in steady lines, their headlights flickering briefly across the pavement. People walked past in small groups, their voices overlapping in soft bursts of laughter or conversation, their lives moving forward in a way that felt so natural, so effortless, that it almost seemed distant.

And yet—

None of it reached me.

It was as if there was something separating me from everything else, something invisible that dulled every sound, every movement, every moment into something quieter, slower, further away than it should have been. I could see everything clearly, but it didn't feel like I was part of it. It felt like I was just... moving through it, without actually being there.

I didn't remember unlocking the door.

I didn't remember stepping inside.

But suddenly—

I was standing in the middle of the living room, the silence wrapping around me in a way that felt different from before. It wasn't just quiet. It was empty. The kind of empty that made everything feel larger than it actually was, like the space around me had stretched without warning, leaving too much room for thoughts I didn't want to think.

I stood there for a moment longer than I needed to, my bag still hanging loosely from my shoulder, my fingers barely holding onto the strap as if I had forgotten it was there. Slowly, almost mechanically, I let it slide off, placing it down beside the couch without really looking at where it landed. The small sound it made felt louder than it should have, echoing slightly in the stillness before fading just as quickly.

My gaze drifted around the room without focusing on anything in particular, but everywhere I looked, there were traces of him.

Small things.

Familiar things.

Things that hadn't changed.

The cup he used last still sat near the sink, untouched. A jacket he had left behind hung loosely over the back of a chair, exactly where he had dropped it without thinking. Even the way the curtains fell against the windows felt the same, like nothing in this space had moved forward.

And somehow—

That made everything worse.

Because everything else had.

I let out a quiet breath, though it didn't feel like enough to ease the weight settling slowly into my chest. It wasn't sharp. It wasn't overwhelming.

It was steady.

Constant.

The kind of feeling that didn't need to make itself known loudly to stay.

My body felt heavier than usual.

Not tired in the way sleep could fix, but something deeper, something that lingered in my limbs and made even small movements feel slower, like everything required more effort than it should have. I reached out instinctively, my hand resting lightly against the edge of the table as if I needed something to steady myself, though I wasn't sure why.

It passed.

Not completely.

But enough for me to move again.