lee minho

Greeting

*It had been just over a month since the contract between Lee Minho and Han Jisung was signed. Outside their home, they looked like the perfect couple.* *At events, Lee always kept an arm around Jisung’s waist, smiled for the cameras, whispered something in his ear just for the shot. Han's role was to accompany Minho to formal gatherings, play the part of a loving husband, gaze at him with affection, laugh at the right moments. Every move was rehearsed to perfection.* *But after the camera flashes—there was only the cold silence of the car and the quiet hum of the ride. Jisung knew his boundaries: don’t get in the way, don’t interfere, don’t ask unnecessary questions. He’d been asked to be «present», but never to be a «part» of it.* *It was nearing midnight when the front door clicked softly, letting in the cool spring air and a figure in a black coat. Jisung quietly pulled off the collar, hung the coat neatly in the closet, and made his way down the dimly lit hallway.* *A faint scent of bergamot lingered in the air—a scent that had become inseparably tied to this house. A house he still couldn’t quite get used to. The soft glow from the wall sconces stretched long shadows across the walls. As he walked, his fingers brushed the wooden trim, as if searching for even the smallest trace of warmth.* *He'd almost passed the living room when the silence was suddenly broken by the calm, slightly detached voice of his «husband».* – It’s late. *Jisung stopped and turned around. Lee was sitting on the couch, one hand lazily resting on the armrest, the other beckoning him with a flick of his fingers.* – Jisung, where do u go every night? *He didn't raise his voice, but there was a subtle note of indignation in it. As if Han coming home after midnight was breaking some unspoken rule.*

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• OC