The clink of ceramic bowls echoed softly through the quiet kitchen as Y/N moved with careful precision.

Her hands, once warm and lively, now worked like they belonged to someone else...just fulfilling routine, not purpose.

She placed the last dish on the table, wiped her hands on the apron and stepped back.

Namjoon stood quietly at the edge of the stairs, watching her.

There was something haunting in the way she didn’t look at him. Not with hate. Not with fear. Not even disgust...Just nothing.

It had been like this for days now....her silence more brutal than screams ever could be.

He cleared his throat gently, trying not to startle her.
"Y/N…"

She didn’t respond. She removed her apron, folded it neatly with practiced hands and placed it on the edge of the counter. Her footsteps were light, careful, as if she was trying to disappear entirely.

Namjoon took a step forward. "Can we… eat together? Just tonight?"

Still no answer.

She paused beside the doorway, for a heartbeat. His chest lifted in something like hope.

But she turned away without a glance and disappeared down in the room.

Namjoon stood there a moment longer, his jaw clenched, heart sinking.

He sat down alone at the table, looking at the dishes she’d made. Everything was cooked just the way he liked it...seasoned perfectly, cut evenly.

But it tasted like ash in his mouth.Across from him, her chair remained empty. Untouched.

And the space between them felt like a canyon he had no idea how to cross.

Night fell heavy across the apartment. The only light came from the pale moon filtering through the balcony windows. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of wind slipping through the cracks.

Y/N sat on the floor with her back to the world, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

She wore the same loose sweater he had given her some days ago...it hung off her shoulders now, her frame too frail beneath it.

Namjoon watched her from the doorway, his hands full with a thick blanket he’d warmed in the dryer. He hated how small she looked. How still.

He approached slowly, each step a prayer that he wouldn’t scare her.

"I brought you this" he said gently. His voice didn’t carry the strength it used to. "You must be cold."

No answer...Not even a shift in posture.

Just her gaze locked on the sky as if searching for answers in the stars.

He kneeled beside her and draped the blanket over her shoulders. It fell around her like snow...soft, quiet, unacknowledged.

He let his hand rest for a moment on her shoulder.
Just to feel her. To remind himself she was still here.

But she tensed. A tremor ran through her shoulders not big, but unmistakable.

He pulled back instantly, the ache in his chest sharp.

"I’m sorry" he whispered. "I don’t want to scare you. I just… I want to help."

But she didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.She kept watching the night, like it was safer out there than anywhere near him.

Namjoon lowered himself onto the floor beside her, keeping a respectful distance, and sat in silence. He didn’t try again. He knew better now. All he could do was stay close, even if she never looked at him again.

And outside, the stars kept shining.Unaware of what's happening in their hearts.

The next morning, Namjoon woke before dawn. He walked to the flower shop near the edge of town, one she used to visit with a soft smile on her lips and dirt on her fingertips, as she loves natural beauty too much. She loved this small job of hers.

He remembered the way she used to hum while trimming the stems. How she’d stop to smell every bloom. How she said flowers made a house feel like a home.

Now the house was cold. Quiet. Haunted.

He returned with her favorites...white peonies and sprigs of lavender, their scent delicate and sweet. He arranged them himself, placed them in a glass vase, and set them in the center of the kitchen island.

Beside it, he left a note in his handwriting...small, careful letters that wobbled from nerves

*For your hands that once touched the world with kindness.
I’m sorry they now tremble because of me.*

He left the house that day, gave her space, hoping maybe...just maybe. she would read it.

When he returned that night, the flowers were still there.Not thrown out.Not touched...Not moved to water.

They sat in silence, like her.
Like him.

He looked toward the hallway and saw the softest flicker of light under the door of the room.

She was there.
Alone.
Always alone.

He didn’t knock.
Didn’t call.
He just stood by the door, resting his forehead against the wood.

And on the other side, she sat once again in front of the balcony, the glass cool against her fingertips, her soul too tired to cry.

It had been weeks since Namjoon had seen Y/N smile.He was dying to hear her voice.

She hadn’t spoken to him...not once.Not a whisper.Not a glance.
Just silence.

But today, he decided to try something different. Something small. A memory of who they used to be. Before the fear. Before the cold. Before the pain.

He had asked her gently one morning. No pressure, no insistence..just a simple question:

"Would you go out with me today? Just a drive. Somewhere peaceful."

She hadn’t replied.
But when he brought her coat to the bedroom, she silently put it on.

That was the most response he had gotten in months.So, he took it as a yes.

They drove quietly along a road that weaved through the bare winter trees, frost glazing the branches like a thousand tiny mirrors. The car was warm inside, soft music playing in the background...an old playlist she used to hum along to. But now… she didn’t even seem to hear it.

Namjoon glanced at her.

Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, her face turned toward the window. Her reflection in the glass looked more like a ghost than a girl.

His heart broke a little more.

Eventually, he parked at a quiet hilltop garden overlooking the lake. It used to be her favorite place...a hidden spot that always seemed to cradle peace.

"I thought… you might like to see this again" he said softly, stepping out and coming around to open her door.

She stepped out mechanically, her eyes blank, shoulders hunched in his oversized coat.

He brought a little thermos of tea and a blanket. Spread it over the bench. She sat down slowly, folding her arms over herself to stay warm.

Namjoon poured her a cup. "Still like tea?" he asked with a faint, broken smile.

She didn’t answer.He didn’t expect her to.

They sat side by side, the silence between them louder than any argument they could have had. The sun dipped lower in the sky, bleeding orange into the lake. He told her stories...soft, old ones from when they first met.

About how clumsy he’d been. About the time she scolded him for forgetting his own birthday.

He laughed lightly, more for her than for himself.But Y/N didn’t move.Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. Silent. Hollow.

Namjoon finally let the smile fade from his face. He turned toward her, his voice cracking.

"Y/N… I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if it can be fixed. But I remember who you used to be. And I remember who we used to be."

She blinked slowly, but still said nothing.

He leaned forward, hands trembling between his knees. "I miss you. I miss you so damn much it physically hurts. And I hate myself for every reason you disappeared inside yourself. I’d take it all back if I could. All the pain. All the fear. I’d trade anything just to hear your voice again."

A breeze swept across the hill, gentle and cold. Y/N shivered.

He noticed...slowly reached into the bag and took out her scarf, gently wrapping it around her neck.

She flinched.

But she didn’t pull away.

Namjoon’s hand hovered near her cheek for a moment. Wanting so badly to touch her. To brush that strand of hair out of her eyes. To feel warmth.

But he didn’t.Because warmth wasn’t something she had for him anymore.

That evening, as he drove her home, her silence followed them like fog. Even when he opened the door for her. Even when he helped her out of her coat. Even when he tried to smile through the ache in his chest.

"Still don't want to talk" he whispered as she started to head toward the bedroom. "Okay...But just know… I’m not giving up on you. Ever."

She paused.Not long. Just a second then walked away.

Namjoon stood there, staring at the empty stairs, the silence echoing louder than any goodbye.

Many days passed like this, today Y/N moved around the kitchen in a haze, her legs unsteady, her arms weaker than they used to be.

The knife in her hand slipped once while slicing radish, nicking her finger...but she didn’t react. The pain barely registered compared to the constant ache that lived in her chest.

Her head throbbed, a dull pulsing at her temples. She hadn’t eaten more than a few bites in days, but she kept moving. She had to. Moving meant not thinking. Not remembering.

Namjoon sat at the table, watching her through lowered lashes. Her skin looked paler, almost gray under the kitchen light. Her hands trembled ever so slightly when she reached for a bowl, but she quickly hid them in her sleeves.

She didn’t notice the way he stared, the worry in his eyes growing deeper each day.

He spoke carefully. "Y/N, you look tired… Why don’t you sit down? I can finish..."

She didn't say anything didn't react, she just did her work, Namjoon didn't push her further beacuse he know she won't let him.

She placed the food in front of him and walked away before he could say more.

He stood up suddenly. "You haven’t eaten anything today."

Namjoon followed her slowly as she retreated down the hallway, her shoulders hunched like the weight of her silence was dragging her down.

That night, when he lay beside her on the bed, he wrapped his arm around her gently, like he was afraid of breaking something already shattered.

Her back was turned to him, her body stiff, unmoving.

His hand rubbed soft circles on her arm. "I’m sorry for everything" he whispered into her hair. "I’m sorry I made you afraid."

But she didn’t move.She didn’t even flinch.She just lay there, her eyes open in the dark, blinking back tears that never fell.

And he held her tighter, even when she didn’t hold him back.

The cold had settled early this morning. The wind howled through the trees outside, rattling against the windows like forgotten ghosts.

Y/N sat near the balcony again, her knees drawn up to her chest beneath a heavy sweater. Her breathing was shallow, her fingers purple at the tips. Her lips were chapped, her skin growing more translucent every day.

But she said nothing. Not about the pounding in her head. Not about the nausea that came in waves. Not about the fever slowly simmering under her skin.

She didn’t want to tell him.
Didn’t want him to touch her more than necessary.

Namjoon had tried to pull her away from the window earlier, but she had jerked away with a flinch so raw that it stopped him cold. He left without a word, returning only to leave a hot water bottle and a bowl of soup beside her.

Hours passed. The soup sat untouched.

Her fingers trembled violently now, but she kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, rocking gently as though it would keep her from falling apart completely.

From the outside of the room, Namjoon watched her shadow...still, small, breaking without sound.

He buried his face in his hands.
He didn’t know how to reach her.And the silence between them was no longer quiet...it was suffocating.

By the next morning, Namjoon noticed something more terrifying than her silence.

Her steps were slower, her balance off. She leaned against walls when she thought he wasn’t looking, her skin clammy, her breath shallow.

She was sick.
And she wasn’t telling him do anything.She still cleaned. Still cooked. Still moved around the house like a ghost tethered to duty even namjoon tried to stop her.

But her hands dropped things more often now. Plates. Spoons. Once, a glass shattered and cut across her palm. She didn’t even wince.

Namjoon had rushed to her side, grabbed her hand with trembling fingers. "Why didn’t you say something? You’re burning up...Y/N, you have a fever...come I'll take you to the doctor."

She didn't listen to him. She tried to walk but he grabbed her wrist. His patience unwavering.

"You’re not fine! Look at you...you're pale, you can’t even..."

She just pulled her hand away.

And the sight of her pulling away from him...again...was worse than the blood.

That night, Namjoon lay behind her in bed again. His arms around her, his face pressed against the back of her neck. He could feel the heat of her fever. He could feel her body shaking. But she didn’t say a word. Not one sound escaped her lips.

And when he whispered, "Please… please don’t shut me out...atleast let me take care of you."

She stared at the wall.Her eyes were open.And she was a thousand miles away. Like this some more weeks passed.

And it was now three months. That’s how long the house had been silent.

Three months since Namjoon had heard her voice.
Three months of cooking for her, caring for her, trying to give her space...while silently dying inside from the weight of her silence.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.
She simply… existed.

Each day, she moved through the house like a shadow...cleaning, cooking, folding laundry with the precision of a machine. Never meeting his eyes. Never reacting to his apologies. She didn’t fight him anymore… but she didn’t live, either.

Namjoon had begun to forget what her laughter sounded like.
And that haunted him more than anything else ever could.

That evening, the sun was already disappearing behind the hills when he arrived home from his work. The driveway was quiet, no light spilling from the windows as it usually did.

A small knot formed in his chest.

He unlocked the front door, stepping into darkness. "Y/N?" he called softly, dropping his keys.

No answer.

The air smelled strange...sharp, bitter. Something acrid stung the back of his throat.

His eyes snapped toward the hall there, faintly a flicker of light from the kitchen.
And the smell of burning.

Namjoon’s heart leapt into his throat. He ran.

"Y/N?!"

The kitchen was thick with smoke. A pan on the stove crackled violently with oil that had caught fire and then fizzled, its contents black and charred. The flame was still on. Smoke coiled toward the ceiling, and the fire alarm should’ve gone off, but it hadn’t.

She must’ve forgotten it existed.

But none of that mattered...because when Namjoon looked down…

There she was.On the floor.

Lying on her side in front of the sink, motionless. Her skin was ghostly pale, lips slightly parted, hair clinging to her sweat-damp face. Her hands were curled near her chest like she had fallen mid-step and never gotten up.

"Y/N!" His voice cracked as he turned off the stove and rushed to her, dropping to his knees beside her fragile body.

He shook her gently. "Y/N,what happened? wake up...come on,please."

No response.

His heart thundered. "No...no, no...don’t do this."

He gathered her in his arms, lifting her like porcelain. She was burning up. Burning from the inside out. Her breath was faint...barely there.

He didn’t think. He just ran...out the door, to the car, cradling her in the passenger seat, his hand gripping hers the entire way as he sped to the hospital, red lights blurring through tears.

"Please stay with me. Just breathe. Please, just breathe."

The hospital lights were too white. Too bright.Too sterile for someone who used to smell like cinnamon and roses.

Namjoon stood just outside the emergency room door, fists clenched in helpless agony. Doctors and nurses surrounded her. They inserted an IV. Checked vitals. One of them muttered something about malnutrition. Severe dehydration. Low blood sugar. Fever.

"She hasn’t been eating for how long?" one nurse asked.

Namjoon couldn’t answer. His throat felt like it had been crushed. He leaned against the wall and stared at the floor.

How had it come to this?

He’d watched her fade every day. And still, somehow, he didn’t realize just how far she’d fallen.
He thought the silence was her way of punishing him.

But maybe she wasn’t punishing him at all.Maybe she was drowning.And he hadn't even heard her scream.How bad he is he thought.

Hours later, he sat beside her hospital bed, her hand in his. An oxygen tube was wrapped around her nose, her face pale and frail beneath the blanket. Machines beeped beside her like lullabies, reminding him she was still there.

She hadn’t woken up yet.

Namjoon’s thumb brushed against her knuckles. "You scared me" he whispered. "More than I’ve ever been scared in my entire life."

He let out a shaking breath. "I should’ve seen this coming. You were right there… but I was too afraid to push. I thought you needed time, and space. But you needed help.you didn't let me help you I tried I tried to take you to the hospital...told you not to do anything at the house but you didn't listen."

His voice cracked. "You needed me to see how much you were hurting. And I didn’t."

Tears welled in his eyes, falling freely now."I know you hate me. You have every right to. I ruined everything. I ruined you."

He lowered his head, resting it against their intertwined fingers. "But please… don’t go. Don’t leave me. I’ll spend my whole life making this right."

The only answer was the soft beep of the monitor. But for the first time, there was hope in that sound.She was still alive.And he was going to fight for whatever was left of her.

Even if she never loved him again.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Minutes felt like hours. Time bent under the weight of helplessness.

The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the sterile room.

Namjoon sat in the corner chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly, eyes fixed on her. He hadn’t moved in hours...not since they’d told him she was stable, not since they wheeled her into this private room.

He watched her the way a drowning man watches the surface... desperate for her to break through.

Her face was turned toward the window, bandages wrapped around her wrist where the IV dripped steadily. Her cheeks were pale, sunken. Her lips dry.

And her eyes...closed, unmoving.
Until they fluttered open.
He shot to his feet immediately.

"Y/N…"

His voice cracked around her name.She didn’t look at him.
Didn’t even blink in his direction.

Instead, she slowly turned her face away from the window and stared at the ceiling. Empty. Hollow.

Namjoon came closer, hesitant, unsure if he was even allowed to breathe near her anymore.

"You’re awake" he whispered, crouching beside her bed. "You...God, Y/N, I was so scared…"

No reaction.

He placed a hand gently on the edge of the mattress, not touching her, but near enough to feel the chill radiating from her.
Before he could say further the doctor came in the room.

"Mr. Kim?" The doctor said.

Namjoon stood, chest tight. "Yes"

"The reports are here" the doctor said gently. "She collapsed from exhaustion, severe malnutrition, and untreated anemia. Her body’s been under extreme stress for a long time."

Namjoon’s stomach dropped. "God…"

"There’s something else" the doctor added. "You might want to sit down.. She is awake now, she should also know about this"

Namjoon blinked and sat on his chair beside her bed.

The doctor continued, "She’s pregnant. A little over three months."

The air left his lungs.Pregnant?

He staggered back a step, gripping the wall behind him. A rush of emotions surged through him...shock, guilt, disbelief… and something else. A quiet, fragile sliver of hope buried beneath the rubble.

She was carrying his child.And he hadn’t even known.

Y/N didn't gave much reaction. Her eyes widened for a moment then, again she was like her own self. Her body didn’t react. She just lay there...like the words hadn’t reached her, or like she refused to let them in.

Namjoon tried to hold her hand but stopped himaelf. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t feel safe with him. He had taken everything from her....even her right to feel joy at the life growing inside her.

A single tear slipped down her temple, soaking into the pillow.

Namjoon reached for her hand—carefully, slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t hold him back either.

Her fingers were limp in his palm. Her body stiff. Her silence louder than any scream.

He bowed his head over their joined hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words trembling. “For everything. For hurting you, for not seeing how much pain you were in… for making you carry this alone.”

Still, nothing.

She blinked once, slowly. A tear clung to her lashes.

Namjoon stayed beside her long after the sun dipped below the window, his heart breaking with each passing second of her quiet, aching stillness.