Later that night, the house was wrapped in quiet.
Hae-in stood by the dresser, gently brushing through her hair. The soft strokes were slower than usual, almost thoughtful. There was a faint brightness in her expression tonight, subtle, but real.
She had opened up.
And he had listened.
That alone had shifted something inside her.
On the bed, Ji-hoon lay on his side, phone in hand. But he wasn't mindlessly scrolling.
Search after search filled his screen.
Psychology programs. University of Oxford requirements. Scholarships. Living expenses in London. Universities in Seoul offering clinical psychology degrees. Admission timelines. Part-time study options.
His eyes were fully focused on the screen.
If London was the dream… could he really send her?
If not London… was there something equally good here?
He wasn't just browsing. He was calculating possibilities.
Hae-in placed the brush back quietly and slipped into bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder. She turned to her side, her back facing him, as usual.
He dimmed the lights to a soft blue glow. He glanced at her silhouette. Her back is facing again.
Ten more minutes passed with the faint glow of his screen lighting his face. Then he finally turned the phone off and placed it on the nightstand.
Silence.
He turned slightly toward her.
Do I need to ask every time before I cuddle her? he wondered.
His mind said: Ask. Respect her space.
His heart said: Just pull her closer. She likes it.
On the other side of the bed, Hae-in's eyes were wide open in the dark.
Is he going to cuddle tonight, too? Why isn't he moving? Is he going to ask for permission again? If he asks… what should I say this time?
Her heart started racing for no reason.
She didn't dislike it. That was the problem.
She froze when she felt the mattress dip slightly.
He moved closer. Slowly. His hand hovered for a second before gently settling over her waist, light enough that she could move away if she wanted to.
But she didn't resist.
Then he pulled her a little closer, his chest warm against her back, his breath brushing softly near her ear as he settled in properly.
She just stayed.
After a moment, he murmured quietly, almost as if he had been thinking about it for a while—
"Seoul National University is also offering a psychology course…"
She blinked in the dim blue light but didn't respond.
"It's one of the most famous universities in the world," he continued softly. "You'll get the best education there. Why go so far… to an unknown country?"
There it was again. About the long distance.
She understood what he wasn't saying.
"I know," she replied gently. "But I don't have that much money for admission there. In London, I can get a full scholarship."
He paused at that.
Then, after a few seconds—
"I'll pay your fees."
Her breathing hitched slightly.
"Why would you do that for me?" she asked quietly.
He shifted a little so he could see the side of her face.
"Because you're my wife," he said simply. "And as your husband… It's my duty to fulfill my wife's dreams."
Her heart began thudding again.
Duty.
The word felt heavy… but his tone wasn't. It wasn't commanding. It wasn't transactional. It sounded like a responsibility he was choosing willingly.
"I have some savings," he continued softly. "I'll use that for your admission here. You don't need to worry about money."
She stayed silent.
Not because she was ungrateful. But because something inside her felt complicated.
"Don't you think you're doing too much for me?" she asked softly. There was no accusation in her tone, only disbelief.
Ji-hoon didn't hesitate.
"No," he said quietly. "What's too much here?" His thumb brushed lightly over her arm. "I love you. And I'm happy that I'm at least capable of helping your dreams come true."
Her heart skipped hard against her ribs.
Love. He said it so easily. So steadily.
She swallowed.
"What if… I'm not able to return what you're expecting from me?" she asked after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper.
For the first time, he went silent. Then he spoke, softer than before.
"You'll love me one day," he said. His voice is certain. "I know that."
"And even if you won't…" He paused briefly, then continued. "I'll still love you the same. Maybe more."
Her breath caught.
"Just stay with me," he murmured. "That's enough for me. I would do anything for you. For your happiness."
Her heart felt completely out of rhythm now.
Before she could process it, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer, eliminating even the smallest space between them.
And then—
A soft kiss landed on her cheek. Warm. Unannounced.
"I love you," he mumbled against her skin. Then he relaxed back into her, eyes closing.
Her mind exploded into noise.
Did he just kiss me? How can he—? He didn't even ask…
But then another voice inside her whispered—
Why are you reacting as if you hated it? If you didn't like it… Why are your cheeks burning? Why are you still in his arms?
She didn't move away. She didn't protest. She didn't push him. Instead, she stayed frozen, not out of discomfort, but because something inside her was shifting too fast.
On the other side, his breathing evened out. A few minutes later, soft snores brushed against her ear.
She blinked. He fell asleep? Already?
The absurdity of it almost made her laugh. Here she was, heart racing wildly… and he was peacefully asleep like a man who had just confessed everything and found comfort in it.
She stared into the dim blue darkness. He said he would support her dream. He said he would wait for her love. He said just staying was enough. No pressure. No demand. No condition.
Her chest felt warm. He wasn't trying to own her dream. He was trying to stand beside it. The realization made her heart flutter in a way she couldn't control.
A small smile curved on her lips in the dark. She slowly turned her head, trying to steal a glance at him.
But his face was buried against the back of her neck, warm breath fanning softly over her skin. Only the crown of his head was visible, hair slightly messy.
A gentle smile touched her lips. Carefully, almost shyly, she pulled his arms a little closer around her waist and placed her own hands over his forearms, holding him there.
Butterflies burst wildly inside her chest.
As if sensing the shift even in his sleep, he stirred. With a quiet, drowsy movement, he slid one arm under her head, lifting her slightly and settling her onto his arm as it belonged there.
His other arm tightened around her instinctively, properly, securely. Then he exhaled and drifted back into sleep.
She blinked in the dim blue light. He didn't wake up. He didn't say anything. He just… adjusted her closer.
Her smile deepened. His body was warm. Solid. Strong. His arms felt protective, not suffocating, not controlling, just steady.
And for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to feel fragile.
Only here. Only in his arms.
Her breathing slowed. No expectations. No responsibilities. No pressure to be strong. No need to carry anyone else.
Just comfort.
She closed her eyes slowly, relaxing fully into him. For once, she wasn't thinking about London.Or loans. Or dreams. Or timing.
She was simply a woman resting in the arms of a man who chose her, not out of obligation, but devotion.
And for the first time in a long, long while… She slept without fighting the world.