Se-Ri's POV
It had been two days since Holi.
Leo was back to his routine — early morning calls, long meetings, quiet apologies whispered as he dropped his bag by the door past midnight.
And I had gone back to mine — reviewing product decks, solving Ren's latest office drama, replying to Amisha's voice notes in short bursts between meetings.
But something in me wasn't resetting.
Something was… off.
Not broken.
Just... paused. Like a sentence waiting for its second half.
That afternoon, I drove to Rhea's home. I told myself it was to check on her and the baby. But honestly, I just didn't want to go home yet.
Rajveer was there too, helping Rhea unpack tiny clothes with ridiculous seriousness. I offered to help fold, but mostly I just stared at a swaddle blanket for ten minutes and didn't move.
Eventually, Rhea noticed.
"You've folded that giraffe three times," she said gently.
Rajveer looked over. "Everything okay, Se-Ri?"
I blinked. The question — the permission to not pretend — broke something open.
Tears blurred my vision before I could answer.
Rhea immediately pulled me to sit. "What's going on?"
I shook my head. "It's nothing. Just tired."
But then I cracked. "No, it's not. I miss him. Even though he's right there, in the same house. I miss him. He's always… busy. Always somewhere else."
Rajveer looked thoughtful. "He's a Wu, Se-Ri. He's carrying a lot on his shoulders. His company's expanding. You know what that pressure feels like."
"I do," I whispered. "But I still make time. For you. For everyone. For him."
Rhea reached for my hand. "Maybe he doesn't know how. Not like we do. He wasn't raised with it."
Rajveer added, "Talk to him. Help him understand. Start small. You two are still learning each other."
"I'll talk to him tonight," I said, wiping my eyes. "I have to."
That night
Leo came home around 10:30 PM.
He looked exhausted — his tie half loosened, coat slung over one shoulder. He kissed the side of my head in passing and muttered, "Sorry I'm late again."
I waited until he placed his bag down.
"Leo," I said. "We need to talk."
He paused, instantly alert. "What happened?"
"Nothing urgent," I said, sitting on the edge of the couch. "But… everything."
He sat too, a bit unsure. "Okay."
I looked at him carefully. "I'm not angry. I know your work is important — and I support it. But… I need you too. Not just your presence, but your attention. Your time."
He stayed quiet, listening.
"You can't build a life with someone if you're never in it," I continued. "We don't need extravagant dates. Just… weekends, maybe. A shared coffee. Family dinners. A movie night. Something."
"I understand," he said softly. "I didn't realize I was pulling away that much. I'm sorry."
"I'm not asking for perfection," I said. "Just effort."
He took a long breath. "You're right. If I don't make time for what matters… what's the point of building anything at all?"
Then after a beat, he added quietly:
"I promise I will… try."