The sun filtered through the windows, casting warm golden rays across the living room floor as Hana moved about the house, carefully arranging their new home. The soft clinks of dishes being placed in cabinets and the rustle of curtains being drawn filled the space, but the air between her and Namjoon was thick with unspoken thoughts.
Hana hummed quietly as she worked, the sound of her voice soft and soothing in the otherwise quiet house. Her movements were graceful, as if she was putting her heart into every little detail. She made their shared space feel like a home, and Namjoon couldn't help but watch her as she fluttered from one room to the next, her presence filling every corner of their life together.
He stood in the kitchen, having decided to make dinner for them tonight. Cooking was one of the few things that grounded him when his thoughts got too heavy. He wasn’t a gourmet chef by any means, but he knew his way around a few simple dishes. And tonight, it felt right to do something for her, even if he wouldn’t openly say why.
As he stirred a pot of simmering pasta sauce, his gaze kept drifting over to where Hana was adjusting the cushions on the couch. The way her hair fell over her shoulders, the way she bit her lip in concentration as she worked—it was impossible not to notice. And the more he looked at her, the harder it was to pull his thoughts away.
She was beautiful. God, she was so beautiful.
Namjoon’s grip tightened on the wooden spoon as a flood of emotions washed over him. He had known she was attractive from the first moment he laid eyes on her, but now, living under the same roof, it was different. There was something about seeing her in these quiet, everyday moments—no fancy dresses or makeup, just Hana as she was—that stirred something deep within him. A yearning, almost.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but the thought of her lingered, gnawing at him.
What had he done to deserve someone like her?
As he turned back to the stove, his thoughts began to wander, slipping into a daydream. He imagined walking up to her as she bent over to straighten a stack of books on the coffee table. In his mind, he gently placed his hands on her hips, pulling her back into his chest. He could feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her skin as his arms wrapped around her waist. The scent of her hair filled his senses, and in his dream, it felt so real.
He could see it clearly—him trailing soft kisses along the curve of her neck, hearing the quiet gasp she’d make as he pressed his lips to her skin. He imagined her leaning into him, her body melting against his as his hands slid down to rest on her hips, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress.
For a moment, the idea of being close to her, really close, felt like an escape from everything. From the hurt of the past, from the cold walls he had built around his heart. In his mind, it was perfect. He could hold her, feel her warmth, forget the pain he’d carried for so long.
But just as quickly as the fantasy came, reality snapped him back.
"Namjoon?" Hana’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He blinked, his head jerking up as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Hana stood a few feet away, her brow furrowed in concern as she looked at him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle. "You were just... staring off into space."
Namjoon quickly straightened, his face hardening as he shook his head. He couldn’t tell her what he’d been thinking. Couldn’t admit that his mind had wandered to a place he wasn’t ready to go, that he’d been imagining her in his arms, kissing her as if she were his in every way.
"I’m fine," he said curtly, turning his attention back to the stove, the coldness returning to his voice. "Just thinking about the recipe."
Hana hesitated for a moment, clearly sensing the shift in his mood. She looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just nodded, her soft smile returning as she walked back to her task.
Namjoon let out a slow breath, his chest tightening. He hadn’t meant to be cold with her, but it was the only way he knew how to protect himself. He couldn’t let her in, not fully—not when the scars of his past still bled with every thought of love.
His ex had ruined that part of him, leaving a wound that hadn’t fully healed.
It had been months since it ended, but the pain still felt fresh. The betrayal was etched into his memory like a cruel reminder of why love was dangerous. She had been his world, the one person he thought he could trust, and she had shattered that trust in the worst possible way. When he had found out that she had cheated on him—with one of his closest friends, no less—it had been like a knife to the heart.
For weeks, he had walked around in a daze, numb to everything around him. He had trusted her. He had loved her. And she had destroyed him.
That was why he had been so closed off when his parents pushed him into this marriage with Hana. He hadn’t wanted to get married, hadn’t wanted to trust anyone ever again. But he had gone through with it because it seemed like the easiest way to stop the constant pressure from his family, and part of him thought he could keep his walls up, even with her.
But now, living with Hana, seeing her kindness, her warmth—it was making things complicated. She wasn’t like his ex. She was different. And that terrified him more than anything.
Because what if he let his guard down? What if he allowed himself to care for her, only for her to hurt him the same way?
Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He had to stay distant. It was safer that way.
But as he opened his eyes and glanced over at Hana again, he couldn’t help the way his heart tugged toward her. She was so gentle, so full of life, and there was a part of him—a part he tried to bury—that wanted to give her the affection she deserved. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to kiss her, to tell her that he would try to be the husband she deserved.
But he couldn’t.
Not yet.
Namjoon sighed, turning his attention back to the food. The sauce was ready, and the pasta was nearly done. He focused on the motions, hoping the routine would ground him. But even as he cooked, his mind kept drifting back to her, to the way she moved around the house, to the sound of her voice as she hummed quietly.
He could feel the walls around his heart cracking, little by little. But the fear—the fear of being hurt again—was still there, holding him back.
When the meal was finally ready, Namjoon set the table in the dining room, calling Hana over to join him. She came in with a bright smile, her eyes lighting up as she saw the dinner he had prepared.
"You made this?" she asked, clearly impressed.
Namjoon nodded, his face impassive. "It’s nothing special."
"It looks great," Hana said, sitting down and unfolding her napkin. She glanced up at him, her eyes soft and full of appreciation. "Thank you, Namjoon. I really appreciate this."
He nodded again, sitting down across from her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in return. The words were stuck in his throat, tangled up with the memories of the past and the fears of the present.
As they ate in silence, Namjoon’s eyes kept drifting to her, his thoughts a jumble of emotions he wasn’t ready to face. She was so close, but she felt so far away. And it was all because of him—because of the walls he’d built around his heart.
But as he watched her, as he listened to her soft voice filling the quiet spaces between them, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to break those walls down.
For now, though, he would keep his distance. Keep his heart safe.
Because trusting someone again—trusting her—was the scariest thing he’d ever faced.
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