The apartment was quiet except for the soft clink of a mug against the coffee table. Seungmin set down the cup with practiced precision, just left of the coaster he knew she'd expect, though he fixed that too without a word.

It was always like this. Two years of small, silent adjustments. The edge of the rug taped down. The bathroom cabinet never left ajar. The remote always placed in the same corner of the sofa. Y/n never had to ask. She also never stopped wondering.

The question had been circling for weeks now, sitting in her chest like something patient.

He didn't say it as an accusation. Just a fact. The couch dipped as he leaned back beside her, close enough that his sleeve brushed her arm.