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Thursday 08 October 2026 15:17:00 GMT
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التلاوة الليبية من القارئ عبدالحميد القريو😊✌️
التلاوة الليبية من القارئ عبدالحميد القريو😊✌️
فضلت اديله من حبي #هاني_شاكر #اغاني_حزينه #حزين #ستوريات
فضلت اديله من حبي #هاني_شاكر #اغاني_حزينه #حزين #ستوريات
Sunghoon had learned to read Sunoo the way one reads fine china — by the faintest hairline crack, by the way light caught a surface that seemed flawless until it wasn't. Tonight, the crack showed in the way Sunoo's shoulders curved inward on the chaise, knees tucked, a cashmere throw pooling around him like a protective shell. His eyes were fixed on the window, but they weren't seeing the rain.
Sunghoon had learned to read Sunoo the way one reads fine china — by the faintest hairline crack, by the way light caught a surface that seemed flawless until it wasn't. Tonight, the crack showed in the way Sunoo's shoulders curved inward on the chaise, knees tucked, a cashmere throw pooling around him like a protective shell. His eyes were fixed on the window, but they weren't seeing the rain. "Sunoo-yah." Sunghoon knelt beside him, voice soft as linen. "You haven't touched your tea." A blink. A slow turn of that perfect face. "I'm not thirsty." "You're lying." Sunghoon's fingers brushed the back of Sunoo's hand, featherlight. "Your hands are cold." Sunoo pulled away, tucking both hands under the blanket. "I'm fine." He wasn't. Sunghoon knew that stubborn set of his jaw, the way his lashes lowered to hide the glassiness gathering there. His porcelain wife, so beautiful, so delicate, and so painfully good at pretending he wasn't breaking. "Okay." Sunghoon stood, and Sunoo's shoulders tensed, expecting a lecture, a push, a demand to talk about it. Instead, Sunghoon returned a moment later with a heating pad, a second blanket, and a bowl of warm honeyed milk. He set them on the side table, then sat on the floor beside the chaise — not crowding, not insisting. Just present. "Your feet are cold too," Sunghoon murmured, gently lifting Sunoo's ankle and tucking it under his own thigh for warmth. Sunoo stared at him. "You're not going to ask." "I already did. You said you're fine." Sunghoon's thumb traced a slow circle on Sunoo's ankle. "So I'll just be here until you're not." Something in Sunoo's face cracked — just a hairline. His lower lip trembled once before he bit it. "Work was…" Sunoo started, then stopped, swallowing. "Take your time." "They kept looking at me. Like I was going to shatter if they spoke too loud." Sunoo's voice dropped to a whisper. "Like I'm some fragile thing they have to handle with gloves." Sunghoon's jaw tightened — not at Sunoo, but at the world that kept treating his wife like a museum piece instead of a person. But he didn't say that. "You're not fragile. You're just precious. There's a difference." Sunoo blinked. "Is there?" "Fragile breaks under pressure. Precious —" Sunghoon lifted Sunoo's hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, "— gets protected. And I will protect you from anyone who makes you feel like glass, even if that someone is you." Sunoo's breath hitched. Then, slowly, like a flower turning toward light, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Sunghoon's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Sunoo whispered. "I didn't mean to be difficult." "You're never difficult." Sunghoon wrapped both arms around him, careful, steady. "You're just my Sunoo. And I'll take you however you come." They stayed like that — Sunghoon on the floor, Sunoo curled into him, the rain softening outside — until Sunoo's breathing evened out and his grip on Sunghoon's shirt loosened in sleep. Sunghoon didn't move. He'd hold his porcelain wife all night if that's what it took. Because porcelain wasn't meant to be handled roughly. It was meant to be cherished — and Sunghoon intended to cherish him until the very last crack healed. #fyp #xyzabc #oneshot #sunsun #rememberthemagicinsideyou💕
#comfort #recliner #furniture #pageforyou #southafricatiktok🇿🇦
#comfort #recliner #furniture #pageforyou #southafricatiktok🇿🇦


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