Until the Door Opened

"What about dinner?"

"I don't feel like it."

The woman answered coldly and cut him off before he could say another word.

"I'm going to bed first. I'm a little tired."

As if she had been waiting all along just to deliver that line, she did not wait for a reply. She strode straight into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

In an instant the space was severed. Being refused to his face was not especially pleasant, yet he felt no urge to seize a woman who had said no and force a meal on her.

Kang-hyun wandered the resort alone once more. He made do with a sandwich in the lounge for dinner, then worked out at the fitness center and took care of a shower while he was at it.

When he returned, the suite was silent as a tomb. He did not loiter near the bedroom as he had the night before; he went straight to the sofa and tried to sleep.

And so another day slipped past.

Morning came and went without so much as a glimpse of Baek Yeo-eun.

Only when breakfast service was about to end did Kang-hyun finally lose patience and knock on the bedroom door.

"…What."

The thin, barely audible voice made him frown. He pressed his ear close to the wood.

"It's nearly noon. How long do you plan to stay in bed?"

"I'm not feeling well. I'm just going to rest today, so leave me alone."

The warning was as sharp as a cat baring its claws. Kang-hyun let out a dry laugh.

Locking the door and barricading herself inside had long been one of Baek Yeo-eun's methods of protest—an unspoken demand that he notice her foul mood. Perhaps she had woken up and only then decided to feel resentful. People said a woman's heart was like a reed, but Yeo-eun's temper was especially impossible to pin down.

It made no difference to him. Tak Kang-hyun was no longer the boy who used to hover outside her door, coaxing a sulking young lady back into good humor.

"Fine, then."

With that clean acceptance he turned away without a second glance, gathered his laptop, and went down to the lobby lounge. The staff, recognizing the man who had come alone three days running, greeted him with easy familiarity.

Kang-hyun finished a simple lunch and cleared the backlog of work. A few guests at the famous honeymoon resort cast curious glances at the solitary figure, yet the rare, unhurried leisure brought him no small satisfaction—except for the phone that kept drawing his eye even though it never rang.

In the end he stayed put through dinner as well. Only when there was nothing left to pre-empt did he rise.

His next stop was the fitness center. With Yeo-eun monopolizing the bedroom and its private bath, he had little choice.

Coming all the way to Hawaii only to live more regularly than usual struck him as faintly ridiculous, but it was still better than being dragged around by her every whim.

After his shower he was dressing again in the locker room when he checked his phone out of habit. The smooth screen greeted him with not a single missed notification.

Kang-hyun withdrew his cold gaze and left the fitness center. Soft lights already glowed against the darkening grounds.

With nowhere else left to go, he finally turned his steps toward the suite.

Inside, the air met him cool and clean as a sterile room. No scent of food, no trace that anyone had moved through the living area. He surveyed it in silence until his eyes settled at last on the bedroom.

"……"

The door remained firmly shut, speaking for the woman's temper. He could picture her without looking—curled in a corner of the bed, blanket wound tight around her body.

Then and now, the same foolish habit of punishing her own body first whenever things failed to go her way.

Kang-hyun withdrew his interest. Yeo-eun needed to understand clearly that he was no longer the Tak Kang-hyun of the past. Sooner or later she would tire and crawl out on her own.

He absently picked up the cigarette pack from the side table. Somehow his mouth felt dry and the urge simply was not there.

In the end he flung the pack back onto the table with irritation, pulled a bottle of cold water from the mini-fridge, and drained it in long gulps.

He had never liked letting other people into his space. Even after his mother died he had felt no particular desire to build a family of his own, for that very reason. He knew the mineral stillness of a place empty of every living thing but himself brought a considerable peace.

So the mere knowledge that someone else occupied the same rooms—even if unseen—sat in his throat like a thorn. All the more so when that someone was Baek Yeo-eun, who had always possessed a rare talent for stirring people up.

Kang-hyun crushed the empty bottle roughly, tossed it into the trash, and dropped onto the sofa. He forced his eyes shut, but sleep refused to come; he tossed for a long while.

The final day of the honeymoon dawned.

Kang-hyun woke at his usual hour, followed the same routine—exercise and shower at the fitness center—and returned to the suite.

"……"

His dry gaze swept the scene that looked no different from when he had left, then stopped abruptly on the living-room table.

The brochures that had been neatly stacked were now askew.

His expressionless eyes moved back to the bedroom. The door still stood tightly closed. A short, incredulous laugh slipped past his lips.

What was she, a cat?

It was absurd, yet the sense of déjà vu was strong; they had repeated the same pattern countless times before. Even then Yeo-eun would lock herself in as protest, only to slip out after a while and leave deliberate traces of her presence. Her heart might have softened, but her towering pride would not let her yield first—so the mess was a signal that he should notice and come soothe her on his own.

Whenever he found that signal he would pretend to give in, open the now-unlocked door, and coax her.

So the door was probably not locked now either.

But… well.

Was there any real need to dance to that childish tune?

Kang-hyun looked away from the door without interest and sat on the sofa. From the scattered brochures he picked up the room-service menu.

He finished the order over the interphone rather than the tablet; the bedroom door remained shut the entire time.

He lounged back with the morning paper for a while until a bright doorbell shattered the quiet and room service arrived.

"Shall I set the meal by the window?"

The staff member who wheeled the cart in asked pleasantly. Kang-hyun answered with a brief nod.

Silver-lidded dishes and cutlery arranged themselves neatly across the white tablecloth.

"And the extra items you ordered—shall I place them here?"

"Over there. You don't need to lift the lids."

Following his instructions, the staff finished the setting and then, with practiced hands, lifted the silver covers one by one. A rich, savory aroma warmed the cool air.

"Enjoy your meal."

The staff member left with the same unfailing smile, and silence returned.

Kang-hyun sat at the table but did not begin eating; he continued reading the paper instead, like a fisherman who has cast his line and waits for a bite.

Click.

Before long the turn of a doorknob broke the stillness.

Kang-hyun kept his eyes fixed on the print. Slow footsteps, as if walking on sand, drew gradually nearer.

Only when the presence stopped right in front of him did he lift his gaze slowly over the newspaper and look at the woman who had finally walked out on her own two feet.

After a full day apart her complexion was dull and pale; even the lips she held tightly pressed together held no color.

Perhaps that was why the fact that he had at last made her yield brought him little satisfaction.

He ran a dissatisfied eye over the woman who had grown noticeably gaunt after only a single day of seclusion, then nodded toward the empty chair opposite. While she took the seat without protest he folded the paper roughly, reached out, and lifted the silver lid.

Hot steam rose in soft coils, spreading a gentle, savory scent. It was cream soup, simmered thick with finely chopped onion and flat mushrooms.

"Eat."

Kang-hyun tossed the single word out as if it were nothing and picked up his fork to begin first.

He took a bite of salad, then cut a large piece of the bacon that had already cooled and hardened, and glanced at the woman who still had not lifted her spoon.

"If you don't like it, order something else."

When he reached for the tablet without hesitation she stopped him.

"No. This is fine."

Baek Yeo-eun emptied the soup at a very slow but steady pace.

Kang-hyun, who had long since finished his own plate, watched with arms crossed. The soft sound of her blowing on each spoonful and the quiet swallow of warm soup filled the sparse silence.

Yeo-eun set the spoon down when the bowl was half empty. A faintly displeased look crossed Kang-hyun's eyes, but instead of urging her further he simply changed the subject.