The call came just past midnight.
Soojin was still awake, lying in bed with the lights off, staring at the ceiling as if it might provide answers. When her phone buzzed against the nightstand, her heart jumped. She snatched it up without checking the screen.
"Hello?" Her voice was raw from silence.
"It's me."
The sound of Jae's voice sent a wave through her body — relief, anger, longing, all colliding. She sat up, clutching the phone tighter. "Finally," she whispered.
There was a pause on his end, followed by a sigh. "I didn't want to call this late, but… I had to. How are you holding up?"
Soojin bit down hard on her lip. How am I holding up? She wanted to laugh, to scream. Instead, her words came out sharp. "How do you think?"
Another pause. "Soojin…"
"No." Her voice cracked. "Don't say my name like that. Don't call me in the middle of the night just to feed me the same line — it's just PR, it's nothing. Do you know what it feels like to sit here, scrolling through photo after photo of you smiling with her? Do you know what it's like to be invisible while the whole world falls in love with your fake relationship?"
She didn't realize she was crying until her throat burned.
On the other end, Jae was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I told you before, it's a strategy. Daniel says it's the only way to—"
"To what? Protect your career?" Her voice rose, trembling with fury. "And what about me, Jae? What about us? Am I supposed to just swallow this? To pretend I don't exist so you can play house with Mina for the cameras?"
Her words lashed through the quiet, each syllable sharp enough to cut.
Jae's own temper flared then, the exhaustion in his tone cracking into frustration. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy any of this? I'm working myself to the bone out here, smiling through every fake moment, because if I don't, everything I've built collapses. And if I collapse, I take you down with me."
Soojin sucked in a shaky breath. "So this is my fault now? I'm the one you're protecting by making me watch you flirt with another woman?"
"That's not what I—"
"It's exactly what you said!" Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop. "You don't get it, Jae. Every day I wake up wondering if this is the day our secret slips. Every day I have to smile and pretend while reporters ask me about you. And then I come home to headlines calling her your girlfriend. And you? You can't even send me a text saying you miss me!"
The silence on the line was deafening.
Soojin pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes, trying to steady her breath. Her body shook, not just from anger but from the crushing weight of loneliness. "Do you even love me anymore?" she whispered.
Jae inhaled sharply. "Don't ever ask me that."
"Then show me," she demanded, voice raw. "Because right now, all I see is a man who chose fame over his wife."
---
The line buzzed with quiet static, her words hanging heavy between them.
When Jae finally spoke, his voice was low, ragged. "You think I chose this? You think I want any of it?"
Soojin waited, heart pounding, but he didn't continue. His silence told her more than his words ever could.
Her throat tightened. "I can't keep doing this, Jae."
"You think I can?" His tone hardened again. "Do you have any idea how suffocating it is? How every second of my life is managed, monitored, staged? I don't even remember the last time I breathed without Daniel's permission. And now you're blaming me for trying to keep us both safe?"
"Safe?" The word tasted bitter on her tongue. "Hiding me isn't safe. It's cruel. You've erased me from your world."
---
Across the ocean, Jae stood in his hotel room, pacing restlessly. His free hand raked through his hair as he tried to anchor himself, but nothing worked. He could hear her tears through the phone, could feel them carving lines across his own chest.
"You think I don't see you?" he said finally, voice trembling despite his effort to control it. "I see you, Soojin. Every second I'm out there pretending with Mina, every fake laugh, every camera flash — I'm thinking about you. I go to bed with your face in my head, not hers. You're the only one who matters."
"Then why does it feel like I'm nothing to you?"
Her question landed like a punch. He staggered against the wall, breath shallow.
Because she was right. He could swear his love to her in whispers, but what good was love if the world never knew? If she had to sit alone in Seoul, invisible, while he played a role on the global stage?
Jae shut his eyes, swallowing hard. "Because I'm weak," he admitted finally. The words scraped out of him. "Because I'm too much of a coward to blow everything up, even though I want to. Even though I should."
---
Soojin froze. She hadn't expected that.
Her tears slowed as she listened to the broken edge in his confession. This wasn't the Jae Kang the world knew — confident, untouchable, larger than life. This was her Jae. The man who once held her hand under the night sky and promised he'd never let go.
But that memory only twisted the knife deeper.
"Then maybe," she said softly, her voice trembling, "you already made your choice."
---
Jae's breath hitched audibly through the phone.
"No." His voice was fierce now, urgent. "Don't say that. Don't you dare. You're my wife, Soojin. Mine. I don't care what the world thinks, or what they see. You're the only truth in my life."
Soojin clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles white. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But belief didn't erase the photos, the headlines, the aching loneliness.
"You can say that to me here, in the dark, on a secret phone call," she whispered. "But can you say it out there? Can you stand in front of the world and call me your wife?"
Jae's silence was answer enough.
The tears came again, hot and merciless. She let them fall this time, unhidden. "That's what I thought."
---
The call ended not with resolution but with silence. Neither of them said goodbye.
Soojin lowered the phone from her ear, staring at the dark screen as if it might light up again. But it didn't. The quiet pressed down around her, suffocating.
She curled onto her side, the sheets cold against her damp cheeks, and let herself sob until her body ached.
Across the world, Jae stood frozen in his hotel room, phone still clutched in his hand, his chest heaving with unspoken words.
Both of them were drowning, tethered by love yet pulled apart by the weight of the world.
And neither knew how much longer the fragile thread between them could hold.