pov: “you didn’t cook for me?” sunghoon asked, looking at the food you prepared for only yourself. “you can cook by yourself so why would i?” you shrugged and continued eating. sunghoon only sighed. surprisingly, he didn’t argue. he didn’t even make a sarcastic comment. he simply stood there for a few seconds before quietly opening the fridge and preparing something for himself. somehow, that felt stranger than if he had started a fight. because five years ago, sunghoon would’ve complained for at least ten minutes. he would’ve stolen food from your plate, wrapped his arms around your waist, and somehow convinced you to cook together instead. but things were different now. you were still married. still living under the same roof. still sharing the same bed. yet somewhere along the way, life became busy, and conversations became shorter. affection became less frequent until one day neither of you realized how much of it had disappeared. there was no dramatic reason. no huge fight. just time. and somehow that felt worse. the next morning, you woke up determined not to dwell on it. unfortunately, sunghoon apparently had other plans. everything started when you tried opening a container and failed. after frowning at it for several seconds, you tried again. nothing. then you grabbed another container. also impossible. then another. and another. and somehow every single lid in the kitchen had become ridiculously tight overnight. you immediately narrowed your eyes. because there was absolutely no way this was a coincidence. a few moments later, sunghoon walked into the kitchen looking suspiciously cheerful. you pointed at the container. “did you do this?” sunghoon looked innocent. “what?” “sunghoon.” “what?” you held up the container. “why can’t i open this?” “oh.” he immediately looked away. which told you everything. “you did this.” “no.” “you absolutely did.” he laughed. which was basically a confession. you immediately wanted to throw the container at him. instead, you shoved it toward him. “open it.” “no.” you stared. he stared back, then smiled. eventually, after several more failed attempts, you gave up and handed it over. sunghoon opened it effortlessly before looking entirely too proud of himself. you hated him. a little. maybe a lot. “you are unbelievable.” “thank you.” “that wasn’t a compliment.” “it sounded like one.” you groaned. sunghoon looked far too happy about the situation. despite your annoyance, however, it reminded you of old times. back when the two of you constantly teased each other. back when your house felt louder and warmer. back when it felt natural to spend hours annoying one another over absolutely nothing. the thought stayed with you longer than you’d like to admit. then came the evening. sunghoon usually arrived home before you, which was why it felt strange when the house remained quiet. eight o’clock passed. then nine. then ten. your irritation slowly turned into concern, especially when none of your messages were getting replies. you told yourself you were only annoyed. nothing more. absolutely nothing more. then finally—the front door opened. you stood up immediately only to freeze when you saw him. sunghoon looked drunk. very drunk. which was unusual because sunghoon rarely drank anymore. he stumbled slightly while removing his shoes before blinking in your direction. the moment he noticed you, his entire face brightened. “wife.” you immediately sighed. “oh no.” “wife.” “you’re drunk.” he nodded. very seriously. “little bit.” “you can barely stand.” “little bit.” you walked over before he accidentally injured himself. unfortunately, that only seemed to make him happier because now he followed you around the house like an oversized puppy. “wife.” “what?” “you’re pretty.” you stopped. then continued walking. “no.” “very pretty.” “go sit down.” “wife.” “sit.” “okay, ma'am.” amazingly, he listened. for approximately three seconds. (comsec++) #enhypen #enhypenpov #sunghoon #sunghoonenhypen #fyp - @jayaein_