The night stretched deeper into silence, heavy and restless. Downstairs, the untouched dinner sat cold on the table, neither Ethan nor Yuna willing to come out after the painful argument that had torn through the house earlier. The entire penthouse felt distant, almost hollow, every room carrying traces of words that could not be taken back.
Ethan remained alone in the living room for a long time, leaning back against the couch with a glass in his hand he never finished. His thoughts refused to settle. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Yuna crying, saw the shock on her face after he said those cruel words.
Words he forced himself to say.
Even now, his chest felt tight remembering them.
He rubbed a hand over his face roughly before finally standing up. His eyes drifted toward the kitchen. He knew she had not eaten anything since afternoon. And no matter what had happened between them, he could not ignore that.
Quietly, Ethan prepared food himself.
Simple.
Warm.
Enough for her to eat without upsetting her stomach.
He placed the medicine beside it carefully, staring at the tray for a second before finally picking it up and walking upstairs.
The hallway was silent.
Only the soft dim lights near the walls illuminated the darkness around him. When he reached Yuna's door, he stopped for a brief moment.
Then knocked.
No answer.
Ethan frowned slightly.
"Yuna," he called calmly.
Still nothing.
The silence felt strange.
Too strange.
His grip on the tray tightened slightly before he slowly pushed the door open.
And then—
He stopped.
The room looked completely different.
The main lights were off.
Instead, soft candlelight flickered gently across the room, golden and warm, casting shadows against the walls in a way that made everything feel dreamlike and painfully intimate.
And in the middle of that quiet glow—
Was Yuna.
Ethan's breath slowed slightly.
She stood near the window silently, her back partly facing him at first. The pale nightdress she wore flowed softly around her figure, delicate and elegant beneath the candlelight. Her long hair fell loosely over her shoulders, slightly curled at the ends, catching the warm glow around her. The soft fabric moved faintly with the breeze from the half-open curtains, making her look almost unreal for a moment.
Beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
Not because of makeup.
Not because she was trying.
But because there was something fragile about her now.
Something quiet.
Something heartbreaking.
Slowly, Yuna turned toward him.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
Her eyes were still slightly red from crying earlier, but there were no tears now. That somehow hurt Ethan more than if she had been screaming at him again.
Neither of them spoke.
The candles flickered softly between them, the silence thick with emotions neither knew how to touch anymore.
Ethan stepped inside slowly, his eyes never leaving her. The tray in his hands suddenly felt unimportant compared to the sight in front of him.
Yuna said nothing.
Not a single word.
She simply looked at him quietly, her expression unreadable beneath the warm light.
Ethan placed the tray down carefully near the table without breaking eye contact. His heartbeat felt strangely uneven now, something he hated noticing.
Because despite everything he said earlier—
Despite every cruel word—
One look at her still destroyed his control.
The room smelled faintly of candles and rain drifting through the open window. Outside, the city lights shimmered far below, but inside the room, time felt frozen.
Ethan's gaze slowly moved across her face again.
The softness of her expression.
The silence in her eyes.
The distance between them.
And suddenly the words he forced himself to say earlier felt unbearable inside his own chest.
Yuna finally lowered her gaze first.
Not angrily.
Not sadly.
Just quietly.
That silence made Ethan step closer without realizing it.
One step.
Then another.
Until only a small distance remained between them.
Still, she said nothing.
Her fingers lightly held the edge of the nightdress near her side, almost unconsciously, while the candlelight danced softly across her skin and hair.
Ethan swallowed slowly, his voice quieter than before when he finally spoke.
"You should eat."
Yuna didn't respond.
But she didn't look away either.
And somehow—
That silence felt more emotional than any argument they had before.
The silence between them stretched softly through the candlelit room, delicate and tense at the same time. Ethan stood only a short distance away now, his dark gaze fixed on Yuna as the warm light flickered across her face. Outside the window, the city continued moving as if nothing had changed, but inside this room, everything felt suspended.
Yuna watched him quietly for a few more seconds.
Waiting.
Expecting something.
But Ethan said nothing.
Not about the candles.
Not about the way she looked.
Not even a small reaction.
And somehow, that silence bothered her more than she expected.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the soft fabric near her waist before she finally spoke, her voice low and calm.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
Ethan's brows shifted faintly. "About what?"
Yuna looked at him directly this time. "About me."
The words were simple.
But the meaning behind them wasn't.
Ethan stayed quiet.
Yuna let out a small breath and glanced away briefly before looking back at him again. "You opened the door and just stared," she murmured softly. "But you didn't say anything."
There was no anger in her voice now.
Just vulnerability.
The kind she usually tried to hide.
Ethan's eyes moved over her again unconsciously—the soft candlelight around her, the loose strands of hair framing her face, the elegance in the way she stood despite how emotionally exhausted she was.
Beautiful.
The word came to his mind instantly.
But saying it aloud felt dangerous somehow.
Because every time he let himself soften toward her, he forgot the line he was trying to hold.
Yuna noticed his silence again and gave a faint, almost sad smile. "See?" she whispered. "You still can't say it."
Ethan's jaw tightened slightly.
"That's not it."
"Then what is it?" she asked quietly.
The room felt warmer suddenly, heavier.
Yuna took a slow step closer toward him, her eyes searching his face carefully. "Before…" she said softly, "you used to look at me differently."
Ethan didn't move.
"You looked at me like…" she hesitated slightly, "like I was important."
The words hit him harder than they should have.
Yuna lowered her gaze briefly before continuing. "But now you just stay quiet."
Another silence followed.
Long.
Unsteady.
Then Ethan finally spoke, his voice lower than before.
"If I say something," he murmured, "you'll overthink it."
Yuna blinked slightly, caught off guard by the answer.
A faint breath escaped her lips. "Maybe I want to hear it anyway."
Ethan looked at her for a long moment after that.
And for the first time since entering the room, some of the coldness in his expression faded again.
His gaze softened slightly as it rested fully on her.
The candlelight reflected in her eyes, making them shine softly despite how tired she looked. Her nightdress moved lightly with the breeze from the window, and standing there in silence, she looked almost unreal to him.
Beautiful wasn't enough.
But Ethan had never been good at saying the right things.
His voice came quieter this time.
"You look…" He paused briefly, as if the words felt unfamiliar in his mouth. "Beautiful."
Yuna's breath caught softly.
Ethan looked away for a second after saying it, almost irritated at himself for how honest the word sounded.
But when he looked back at her again—
She was smiling faintly.
Not a bright smile.
Not fully happy.
But real.
And somehow that small expression affected Ethan more than anything else tonight.
Yuna stepped a little closer again. "See?" she said softly. "That wasn't so hard."
Ethan exhaled quietly through his nose, almost like he was fighting against his own thoughts. "Don't get used to it."
The faint smile on Yuna's lips grew just slightly.
Too soft.
Too warm.
And Ethan immediately knew he had already lost control of this moment the second he opened that door.