Chapter 22 - Fractured Lines

Hyunjin didn't ask what happened between Jisung and Minho that day. He didn't need to. The moment Jisung returned from his little "walk" with Minho, his face was unreadable, his energy different—sharper, heavier.

It wasn't the usual Jisung, the one who cracked jokes every few minutes just to lighten the mood. It wasn't the one who playfully whined about class or dramatically draped himself over Felix.

This Jisung was silent. Tense. Eyes flickering to Hyunjin like he was trying to figure out what to say but not knowing how.

Chan and Changbin noticed too.

The moment Jisung sat down at their usual table, Chan leaned forward, resting his arms on the surface. "You good?"

Jisung exhaled through his nose, resting his chin in his palm. "Just peachy."

Felix wasn't buying it. "Did you fight with someone?"

Hyunjin didn't say anything. But he saw how Jisung's fingers curled into his sleeve, gripping the fabric as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Jisung," Chan tried again.

Jisung let out a dry laugh. "Let's just say I had a conversation with our dear Minho."

Silence.

Hyunjin stiffened.

Felix and Changbin shared a look.

Chan narrowed his eyes. "What kind of conversation?"

Jisung finally looked up. Right at Hyunjin.

And Hyunjin understood.

He understood because he saw it—the barely contained anger in Jisung's face, the quiet frustration pressing against his temples.

He had confronted Minho.

For him.

"Jisung..." Hyunjin's voice was soft. "You didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did." Jisung cut him off. His jaw clenched. "Because no one else has."

Hyunjin swallowed.

Chan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but Hyunjin knew him well enough to see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

Changbin rubbed his temples. "What did he say?"

Jisung scoffed. "Nothing worth repeating."

Chan's voice darkened. "Did he admit to hurting Hyunjin?"

Jisung hesitated. Just for a second.

That was enough.

Felix's face fell. "No way..."

Hyunjin's fingers curled into his lap.

Changbin let out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back against the chair. "Jesus Christ."

Hyunjin took a slow breath. "Guys, please, don't—"

"I will do something about it," Chan said, voice sharp.

Hyunjin's heart jumped. "Hyungie—"

"I'm serious," Chan pressed, eyes flashing. "I swear, if I see him even look at you the wrong way, I'm going to—"

"You're not going to do anything," Hyunjin interrupted, voice firmer than before. "Please."

Chan's fists clenched.

Felix grabbed his arm, a silent plea.

Hyunjin softened. "It's... It's not worth it."

Chan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You deserve better than this."

Hyunjin forced a small smile. "I know."

And that was the problem.

Because knowing it didn't change the situation.

--

That evening, Hyunjin returned home to an empty house.

It was almost funny. Their house. A house given to them as a wedding gift, meant to be filled with love, with warmth, with them.

But there was none of that.

It was just him.

The house felt cold.

Hyunjin sighed, placing his bag down near the couch before walking into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water, staring blankly at the darkened space.

Minho hadn't come home yet.

Or maybe he was with him.

Hyunjin's grip tightened on the glass.

He didn't know why he even cared anymore.

He should be used to this. The absence, the loneliness, the lack of a husband who wanted him.

But no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt the same.

He took a sip of water, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Then, he turned off the kitchen light and walked upstairs.

--

Minho didn't come home until past midnight.

Hyunjin was already in bed—or at least, he was trying to sleep.

But the moment he heard the front door open, he tensed.

Footsteps echoed through the silent house.

The door to Minho's room opened. Then closed.

That was it. No words. No acknowledgment.

Hyunjin stared at the ceiling.

His heart felt heavy.

His fingers curled into the blanket, gripping the fabric tightly.

Something inside him snapped.

He sat up, throwing the blanket off.

Then, he got up.

And before he could think too much about it, he walked straight to Minho's door and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Hyunjin took a deep breath before gripping the doorknob and pushing it open.

Minho was sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

When he saw Hyunjin, his expression darkened. "What do you want?"

Hyunjin exhaled slowly. "We need to talk."

Minho scoffed, setting his phone down. "There's nothing to talk about."

Hyunjin stepped inside. "Jisung confronted you today."

Minho's jaw tensed.

"Did he tell you everything?" Hyunjin continued. "Did he tell you what he saw?"

Minho looked away.

Hyunjin swallowed. "Minho... do you even care?"

Silence.

A beat passed.

Then—

"I don't know," Minho admitted.

Hyunjin froze.

He hadn't expected that.

Minho ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

Hyunjin stared at him, a thousand emotions flooding his chest at once.

Anger. Frustration. Hurt.

And worst of all—hope.

Hope that this was the start of something.

But then Minho's expression hardened again, and that hope shattered before it could bloom.

"I think you should go to bed," Minho muttered, lying down. "This conversation is pointless."

Hyunjin inhaled sharply.

Then, without another word, he turned around and walked away.

And as he closed the door behind him, he felt the weight of something he couldn't name settling in his chest.

Something that felt an awful lot like goodbye.