Chapter 3: The Unspoken War
The tension in the kitchen was so thick it felt suffocating. So-yeon stood frozen, her perfectly manicured nails digging deeper into her palms. Ryan's words—"I make my breakfasts by myself"—still hung in the air like sharp knives.
Her large doe eyes narrowed, the storm in them barely contained. The silk of her nightgown felt suddenly too thin, too intimate for this battlefield of pride.
Ryan: (His voice cold and measured) "I know talking to you is like climbing Mount Everest. But mind your attitude. I don't know how your relatives control you, but you've become a burden forced upon me."
So-yeon's pale face flushed crimson. The words "burden" and "Mount Everest" struck her like physical blows.
So-yeon: (Her voice dangerously quiet) "A burden? You think I wanted this arrangement? To be forced into marriage with a stranger who throws tantrums and thinks conversation is mountain climbing?"
Her nails gripped the counter edge until her knuckles turned white. The coffee maker whirred in the tense silence, its normal sound suddenly offensive in the strained atmosphere.
So-yeon: "If talking to me is like climbing Everest, then living with you is like walking through jahanam! I'll leave the kitchen when I'm done making MY coffee in MY apartment."
Ryan's eyes darkened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
Ryan: "At least Everest can be conquered. You're just an endless maze of pride and insults. And for the record—this is MY apartment. You're just living here."
So-yeon's breath caught in her throat. The vulnerability in her large doe eyes was quickly replaced by blazing fury.
So-yeon: "Fine! Keep your precious apartment and your mountain-climbing comparisons! I'm going to my office early today. Wouldn't want to burden you with my Everest-like presence!"
As she stormed out, her silk nightgown swirling dramatically behind her, Ryan muttered to the empty kitchen.
********
The sleek glass doors of her office building slid open, but the corporate calm did nothing to soothe the storm inside So-yeon. Settling into her leather chair, the memory of Ryan's words—"At least Everest can be conquered"—echoed in her mind, each repetition a fresh wound. Her fingers trembled as she opened her laptop, the morning's confrontation replaying like a broken record she couldn't stop.
Why did every conversation with him feel like a battle?
Her large doe eyes, usually sharp with focus, glazed over as she stared at the Seoul skyline. The city stretched before her—a kingdom she had conquered—yet in this moment, she felt like she was losing everything that mattered.
FLASHBACK - TWO WEEKS AGO
She remembered coming home late from work, finding Ryan in the kitchen. The scent of her favorite seaweed soup—the same one her mother used to make—filled the apartment. He'd been standing by the stove, his back to her.
"You're still awake?" she had asked, her voice colder than she intended.
He didn't turn around. "You missed dinner. Again."
"I had a merger to handle. Not that you'd understand corporate pressures."
The words had tasted bitter even as she said them. He had simply nodded, ladled the soup into a bowl, and placed it on the table before walking away without another word. She had left it untouched, letting it grow cold—another meal rejected, another kindness spurned.
END FLASHBACK
A painful tightness gripped her chest. How many times had she done that? How many small acts of care had she thrown back in his face, mistaking them for pity rather than what they might have been—attempts to connect?
*********
But his sarcasm couldn't hide the genuine exhaustion in his eyes. This marriage wasn't just a battle—it was emotional mountaineering without oxygen, and they were both losing breath with every passing moment.