Dabble life of my husband

I followed him.

I told myself it was just to ease my mind, but deep down, I knew I was crossing a line.

When Taehyung left the apartment that morning, I waited exactly three minutes before grabbing my coat and slipping out behind him. I kept a safe distance, my heart hammering in my chest with every step he took away from me. If he turned around, if he caught me—what would I even say?

But he never turned around.

And he didn’t go to work.

Instead, he drove to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

I parked a block away and walked the rest of the way on foot, staying close to the shadows. The warehouse loomed in front of me, its rusted metal walls covered in peeling paint and faded graffiti. My breath fogged in the cold air as I crept around the side, searching for a way to see inside.

I found it—a broken window near the back, just high enough for me to peek through.

Taehyung stood inside, his back to me. Across from him was Jimin, his posture stiff. And between them, leaning against a crate with her arms crossed, was her.

The woman from the photo.

I strained to hear them, but their voices were too low, muffled by the warehouse’s thick walls. Still, I could see everything—the way Taehyung’s hands curled into fists at his sides, the way Jimin kept glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

And the way the woman’s sharp eyes scanned the room, like she knew she was being watched.

I barely had time to duck before her gaze flickered toward my window. My pulse thundered in my ears. Did she see me? I forced myself to stay still, barely daring to breathe.

When I peeked again, Taehyung was holding something in his hand.

A gun.

My stomach dropped.

I watched, frozen in place, as he handed it to her.

The woman took it without hesitation, inspecting it like she had done this a thousand times before. Then she nodded, murmuring something to Jimin, who responded with a short shake of his head. Taehyung didn’t say anything—he just stood there, his expression unreadable.

I wanted to scream.

Who are you, Kim Taehyung?

---

I stumbled away from the window, my breath coming in short gasps. My fingers were ice-cold, my mind spinning with a thousand different questions and none of the answers.

Taehyung had a gun. He gave it to that woman. Why? Why?

I couldn’t stay. If they caught me, if they knew I had seen—I didn’t know what would happen, but I wasn’t willing to find out.

I turned and ran.

---

By the time I got back to the apartment, my hands were still shaking. I locked the door behind me, pressing my back against it as I struggled to catch my breath.

I needed to think. To process.

But all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat, thudding in my ears like a war drum.

The woman. The gun. The lies.

I didn’t know how long I stood there before my phone buzzed in my pocket. I flinched at the sound, my nerves stretched too thin, but when I pulled it out and saw the name on the screen, my stomach flipped.

Taehyung.

I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling over the answer button. For the first time, I hesitated.

Then, slowly, I pressed accept.

“Hey,” his voice was smooth, familiar. Deceptive.

I swallowed hard. “Hey.”

“Are you home?”

My pulse jumped. “Yeah. Why?”

A pause. “Just checking.”

Checking. My grip on the phone tightened. Did he know? Had the woman seen me? Was this some kind of test?

I forced a smile into my voice. “You coming home soon?”

“Yeah. I won’t be late.”

Another pause. And then, softer—“I love you, Jisoo.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, bile rising in my throat.

“I love you too.”

The words tasted like poison.

---

Taehyung came home like nothing had happened. He kissed me on the forehead, asked me about my day, told me he had been busy with work.

I smiled, pretended to believe him. Pretended I didn’t know what I had seen.

But inside, I was already making my plan.

I was going to find out the truth.

Even if it destroyed me.

---

To be continued...