pov: jay has been your husband for many years now. to outsiders, you were the golden couple. the kind of love people envied—passionate, loyal, inseparable. he used to make you feel safe, like the world couldn’t touch you as long as he was around. but that was before. before his love began to feel like chains. you still love each other—of that, you’re sure. but love has slowly become something heavier, something harder. you feel it every time he tells you where you can and can’t go, every time he questions your choices like you’re a child needing guidance. you can’t go out without his permission. he needs to know every detail, every decision. he says it’s to protect you. but what kind of protection feels like a prison? tonight, you tried to reason with him—again. you told him you were suffocating. that you needed space. that you needed freedom. but he only grew frustrated, eyes darkening as he told you, once more, that you didn’t understand. that everything he did—every rule, every restriction—was because he loved you. now, you’re in the bedroom with the door locked. heart pounding. tears wiped away. you’ve made up your mind. you need to leave. even if just for a while. just to breathe. you change your clothes quickly, grab your bag and keys. you hesitate at the door, your hand on the knob, already imagining the fight that might come. but you open it anyway. and there he is. jay stands just outside the door, as if he’s been waiting. his arms are crossed, jaw clenched. his eyes sweep over you—your clothes, your bag, your expression. “where are you going?” he asks, voice low. you take a breath. “none of your business.” you step forward, but he moves to block your path. “are you going to drink?” his voice carries a warning. you hesitate, then lie. “no.” he glares. “i never taught you to lie.” you snap. “and maybe if you didn’t treat me like a child, i wouldn’t have to!” his expression hardens. “everything i do is to protect you.” “no, jay. everything you do is to control me.” the words crack in the air, and for a moment, everything is still. then, he sighs. a deep, tired sound. “go to sleep,” he says. “we’ll talk when you’re not this angry.” “i'm not sleeping next to someone who doesn’t even see me anymore.” you try to pass, but he grabs your arm—not violently, but firmly enough to make your heart spike. “stop being so stubborn and go change,” he says through clenched teeth. you look up at him, eyes burning with tears you swore you wouldn’t shed. “you’re scared of losing me, jay. i get it. but this—this is not love. this is fear wearing love’s face.” he looks at you then—really looks at you—and something in his expression falters. cracks. “you won’t, huh?” he whispers, more to himself than to you. then, before you can step away, he pulls you in and kisses you. it’s sudden—desperate. not rough, but raw. as if he’s trying to remind you, through that kiss, of everything good that once existed between you. and for a second, you falter. because you remember it too. the way he used to hold you. the warmth. the tenderness. you kiss him back—just for a moment. then you pull away. and in that silence, your voice trembles as you ask the question you’ve been holding in your chest for too long. “jay… do you even love me?” he’s still. his hand slowly lets go of your arm. his eyes search yours. and for a few painful seconds, he says nothing. then, softly—so softly—it breaks you: “…of course, sayang…” you want to believe him. maybe you even do. “i'm sorry, okay?” he said, cupping your cheeks. you closed your eyes, feeling his hands on yours. “can we not fight anymore?” you whisper. you look at him in the eye, and then he gives you a smile—a gentle smile that he used to give you. how you wish everything would be okay. “let's not fight anymore,” he says before pulling you into a warm hug. the kind of hug that feels comforting and everything you've been needing. (comsec++) #enhypen #enhypenpov #jay #enhypenjay #fyp - @jayaein_