After breakfast disbanded like it always did with half-eaten plates and half-said things Daon rose first.
He glanced at Rinwoo, one hand brushing a drop of dried blood off his sleeve. "I need to change before the meeting," he muttered, walking toward the stairs.
Taemin followed after, yawning so dramatically it almost looked painful. "I'm going back to bed," he declared, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wake me when the world ends or whatever."
Rinwoo chuckled softly, almost too quietly for anyone to hear. Then he turned back to the table.
The once elegant dining hall looked like a battlefield. Not violent, but exhausted spilled tea, used tissues, utensils scattered, an untouched plate where Taekyun had sat. Rinwoo's eyes lingered on it.
The rice had gone cold. The soup had barely been stirred.
Just like always.
And just like always, Rinwoo ignored the twist in his chest and quietly stacked the bowls, wiping the table clean with the servants. He didn't notice that his own plate remained untouched. He didn't care.
When the table was spotless and the dishes were back in the kitchen, Rinwoo finally turned to leave. His body ached faintly maybe from sleep, or the lack of it, as he reached the bottom step of the grand staircase.
That's when Daon reappeared, now in a charcoal suit, slicked hair still damp from a rushed rinse.
"Rinwoo Hyung."
He paused mid-step and turned. "Yes?"
Daon held out a thin folder of documents crisp, white, stamped with the blue seal of Lee Holdings. "These need to go to Taekyun's room. I'm running late."
Rinwoo blinked. "You want me to...?"
"No one else can go in. You're the only exception." Daon handed him the file in rush. "Just leave them on his desk."
Rinwoo took it with both hands, nodding with a warm, practiced smile. "Of course. I'll take care of it."
The walk to Taekyun's private room always felt... longer than it actually was.
The hallway was wide and grand, echoing with each careful step Rinwoo took, but his mind moved faster than his feet. He hadn't been in the room for years Taekyun never told him not to come in, but he also never asked him to. And in this house, silence meant permission... but not invitation.
Rinwoo stopped at the familiar door. He hesitated for a moment, then quietly turned the knob.
The door opened with a soft creak.
The first thing that hit him was the mess.
It wasn't dirty just chaotic. Papers covered the desk and floor, a couple of law books lay open beside the chair. A half-drunk cup of black coffee had left a ring on a file folder. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, bathing the room in dull gray light.
Rinwoo's breath caught in his throat.
No one else would see this room like this.
No one else was allowed to.
He stepped inside slowly, careful not to disturb anything just taking in the space Taekyun existed in alone. The air smelled faintly of ink, wood polish, and that subtle cologne Taekyun always wore but never acknowledged.
Rinwoo placed the files neatly on the desk... but didn't walk away.
His fingers hovered over the chaos.
He imagined Taekyun sitting here last night, tired and tense, flipping through legal reports at 2AM, never bothering to clean up probably thinking no one would see.
Rinwoo bent down to pick up one of the books. The page had dog-ears. He smoothed them carefully.
He works too hard, he thought. He doesn't rest. He doesn't eat. He doesn't—
His gaze flicked around the room. Papers on everywhere. Shoes out of place. A jacket hanging half-off the back of the chair.
What if I cleaned it?
The thought bloomed out of nowhere, silly and warm. Childish even.
But for a second just a second Rinwoo imagined Taekyun walking in later to a perfectly clean room. Books sorted. Files neatly stacked by subject. Fresh tea left on the desk.
Maybe he'd notice.
Maybe he'd say thank you.
Maybe he'd smile.
Maybe—
Rinwoo stopped himself.
His cheeks flushed, and he pressed a hand to his chest, steadying his heartbeat. He wasn't supposed to imagine things like that.
Still... he knelt down and picked up every paper slowly, handling each one like it was fragile.
Evening crept into the Lee estate like a whispered secret. The golden hour light cast long shadows through the tall windows, bathing the halls in soft amber. Inside the kitchen, the air was warm with the smell of garlic, grilled fish, and slow-boiled broth.
Rinwoo was where he usually was not expected to help, but always there anyway sleeves rolled up, quietly placing garnishes on side dishes, folding napkins, stirring soup when the cooks got busy. His presence was so natural, no one even questioned it anymore. The servants talked and joked around him, voices rising and falling in casual chatter.
Rinwoo didn't speak much.
But he listened.
And he smiled. Sometimes softly, sometimes with that almost-boyish warmth that still clung to him, even after all the years spent walking on eggshells in the Lee household.
He liked this corner of the house the kitchen where people weren't pretending. Where there was noise, mess, laughter, and a kind of invisible heartbeat that made him feel… real.
As dinner was prepared, the house stirred. One by one, the family started to gather.
Taemin, of course, didn't show. He never did for dinner. He'd slipped out again the moment he woke up, hair still messy from sleep, wallet in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
Mr. Lee was absent too out at some formal business event that required black ties, sycophants, and six different wine glasses.
That left just Daon and Taekyun both of whom had arrived home late, their cars gliding into the driveway like ghosts returning. They greeted no one, just silently went upstairs to freshen up before dinner.
And Rinwoo…
Rinwoo was almost nervous.
Not in a big, obvious way but in that tiny fluttering way that made his fingertips twitch and his heart race just a little faster.
Taekyun would see the office tonight.
He had spent the entire afternoon cleaning organizing every file, stacking books, folding the wool blazer Taekyun had left hanging over his chair. The tea ring on the desk had been wiped away. A fresh pen sat beside a new notepad. The room smelled faintly of lemongrass.
He's going to notice. He'll say something.
Maybe just a nod. Maybe a thank you.
Maybe even smile.
Rinwoo clung to the thought like a secret.
Dinner was served.
Rinwoo sat beside Taekyun, as always. Not because they were married that never mattered in this house but because he insisted on it silently, every night. Just like how he made sure Taekyun's plate had no onions, and his soup wasn't too hot, and the napkin was folded the way he liked.
Taekyun didn't comment.
He never did.
He sat stiffly, shoulders square, eyes fixed on the phone in his hand, tapping something probably work emails or legal briefs even as Rinwoo gently began to debone the fish on his plate.
He did it carefully, fingers moving with practiced gentleness, placing the bones to the side, serving the clean pieces of white fish onto Taekyun's rice.
Daon cleared his throat. "Rinwoo Hyung after dinner, could you help me pack? For the trip tomorrow."
Rinwoo glanced up and smiled, brushing his hands on the napkin. "Of course. I'd be happy to."
Daon gave him a short nod, then returned to his meal. There was no thank you but unlike others in the family, Daon wasn't cold about it. He just wasn't the type to say things out loud.
Rinwoo turned back to Taekyun. He looked at the plate again.
Still untouched.
"Your food will get cold…" Rinwoo said quietly.
Taekyun didn't respond. Didn't even look up.
He tapped one more thing on his screen, then stood up without a word, sliding his chair back with a dull scrape.
Rinwoo's breath caught. "You're not eating…?"
Taekyun didn't bothered to to even look back, and left the room in silence.
And Rinwoo sat still beside an empty chair, next to a meal someone would later throw away.
The evening had ended quietly enough.
After dinner, Rinwoo followed Daon to his room to help pack. The bed was already covered in clothes button-downs in crisp whites and grays, a travel coat, matching socks laid out like a checklist. Daon stood by the open suitcase with his sleeves rolled up, efficient as ever.
Rinwoo folded the shirts gently, smoothing out wrinkles with his palms before placing them inside. He liked doing things like this small, silent kindnesses. It made him feel useful. Wanted.
"I've labelled your vitamins," Rinwoo murmured, placing a small zip pouch on top of the folded sweaters.
Daon didn't respond, but Rinwoo didn't take offense. That was just Daon polite, focused, a little distant.
They were halfway through deciding between two colognes when the yell came.
Sharp. Loud. Cracking through the quiet like glass shattering on tile.
Rinwoo flinched his hand froze midair eyes wide, heart thudding.
More shouting followed. Angry footsteps. A slammed drawer. The unmistakable snap of Taekyun's voice, so loud and furious it made the windows feel like they could shake loose.
Rinwoo stood up fast, his knuckles white against the bedpost.
Daon just sighed. "He's probably yelling at the cleaning staff again," he muttered, casually tossing the colognes into the suitcase. "Ignore it."
But Rinwoo couldn't. His feet were already moving.
The hallway outside Taekyun's office was a mess. Two servants stood frozen in the corridor, heads bowed, faces pale.
The door was wide open.
Inside, Taekyun stood near his desk, veins visible at his neck, papers scattered across the floor like fallen feathers. His eyes were wild with frustration, hair slightly out of place something Rinwoo rarely saw. His control was gone.
"WHO touched this room?! Who the HELL told you to come in here?!"
One of the younger servants stammered, "S-sir, we didn't no one's allowed—"
"Then who the fuck touched my notes?! They were RIGHT here!" He slammed his palm down on the desk hard enough to make the lamp rattle.
Rinwoo stood at the edge of the hallway, frozen.
His heart sank.
Oh no.
Oh God.
His body began to tremble, palms sweating, lips dry.
Daon glanced into the hallway, saw the chaos, shrugged, and turned back toward his room. "I'm not getting into that," he muttered.
And Rinwoo?
He stepped forward. Slowly.
Like a deer walking toward a car crash it couldn't stop.
"Taekyun…" Rinwoo's voice was soft, shaking. "It was… it was me. I cleaned the room."
Everything stopped.
Taekyun's eyes whipped toward him. The servants, still terrified, stood even stiffer.
Then Taekyun exhaled hard, jaw clenched. "Get out," he snapped to the staff.
They left fast, not looking back.
Now it was just them.
Silence rang in the room for a heartbeat.
Then:
"Who the hell told you to touch my office?!"
The words hit like a slap.
"I—I just thought… it was messy. You had files everywhere and books were falling off the shelf, and—"
"I LIKE it that way, Rinwoo!" he exploded, voice rising like a wave crashing into him. "I knew where everything was. Now the one fucking page I ACTUALLY needed? Gone. Because you wanted to play fucking housemaid again!"
Rinwoo's knees almost buckled. He stepped back, breath catching. "I can help you find it—"
"I don't want your help! God, don't you get it?!" Taekyun's chest was rising and falling fast. "This is why I can't stand this marriage. You're always there. In my space. Making everything harder."
That one landed deep.
Rinwoo's lips parted slightly. His hands slowly curled at his sides. "I was just trying to make you happy…"
"Well, you didn't."
The silence that followed was deafening.
And then as if the fight meant nothing Taekyun turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.
But before he left, he said it the thing that finally shattered the last piece of Rinwoo holding it together.
"Find that page by morning. Or don't bother showing your face."
The door slammed shut so hard, a few pages lifted off the floor and fluttered down again.
Rinwoo stood alone in the wreckage of the room.
Tears welled up in his eyes before he could stop them. They spilled silently down his cheeks, dripping onto the scattered notes and cold marble floor.
His fingers trembled as he knelt down and began to sift through the mess looking for a page he didn't even know the name of.
He didn't mean to make things worse.
He thought maybe this time… he'd finally get a smile. Or a soft thank you. Or a nod.
But no.
It was never enough.
He was never enough.
And as Rinwoo stayed on his knees, surrounded by papers and silence, he tried to convince himself not to cry any louder.