𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚 ; 𝙝𝙨𝙬 ✔️

083

Seungwoo POV

"Seungwoo!" My wife called from the bedroom. She still sounded slightly groggy.

"Coming!" I called back.

My wife was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin when I came in. I sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her hair.

"Seungwoo, I'm sorry." She whispered, taking my hand and twining our fingers together.

I laid down next to her and pressed my chest against her back. She leaned in to me as I wrapped my arms around her.

"You mad at me?" She asked quietly.

"Mmm..." I trailed off. I was mad at her.

She heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Well, you're pregnant. Not much we can do about that." I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and a tear brushed my finger. "You crying again?"

She sniffled. "Yeah."

"I don't like when you're sad." I murmured, burying my nose in her hair. "I don't like when you cry."

"I'm having a hard time." She sat up and held the photo album in her hands. I guessed she had been looking through it while I thought she was sleeping.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Why are you having a hard time?"

"I don't know." My wife said miserably, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "I just feel like we never have time for each other anymore. I miss spontaneously hanging out with you. All we ever talk about anymore is our baby or work or what we're gonna cook for dinner. I don't want this. I don't want this day in, day out shit. I want to go out to eat whenever we feel like it. I want to giggle with you in our bed at two in the morning and not have to worry about getting up the next morning. I feel like I just woke up and realized that I'm not young anymore."

I took the photo album from her and flipped through more of the pages. Anger slowly simmered in my gut. She sounded impossibly selfish to me.

"You're twenty-four. You're still young."

"You know what I mean." She said softly. "You know."

"Yeah, I understand you perfectly. You wish you weren't a parent."

"I don't wish that." She said in a voice so small I had to strain my ears to hear it. "I love our baby."

"Then why the hell are you having a temper tantrum?" I stood up and tossed a pillow at her. "Grow the fuck up."

She hugged the pillow tightly against her chest as tears streamed down her face and wet the fabric.

"Why did you marry me, Seungwoo?"

I lifted my shirt over my head and tossed it into the laundry basket. It was overflowing with all our dirty clothes; the two of us had always, always been bad at doing laundry.

I didn't answer her, but instead threw open a drawer of my dresser and yanked out a sweatshirt. It was mine and it was ancient, holes in the sleeves and a mysterious strain on the collar. I don't normally wear clothes in such a state of disrepair, but this one had sentimental value. Hana had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday and told me if I ever got rid of it, we would stop being friends.

My wife hated this sweatshirt, so I made sure to wear it whenever I felt like pissing her off.

I shut the drawer with an angry, exasperated sigh.