Hye-jin bit into the chicken wing, letting the unhealthy oil and flavoring seep into her tongue. As much as she didn't want to munching on things that would kill her in the long run, it's not like she had a choice. Getting takeout was so much faster than having to shop around for raw ingredients and cooking them. She pushed the images of utensils and machines used for cooking to the back of her mind. Their cupboards were filled with them, but who had the time to tinker around the kitchen these days?

She smacked her lips together and chucked the scraped bone into the growing pile on the other box. Opposite her, Rin tapped his spoon against the mound of rice stained orange. He didn't look like he's enjoying it, but served him right. Hye-jin asked him properly what he wanted and he didn't respond, so she got him whatever fit into the budget. If he started complaning, she'd have the perfect ammo for him.

Instead, his shoulders slumped in some sort of defeat and started shoveling food into his mouth. The silence was oppressive, thick enough to smother the both of them. Hye-jin hated coming home to an empty house, so she did her best to liven it up. "So, this customer at work," Hye-jin started. She licked her teeth and pried another spoonful of rice from her own take-out box. "Kept on hollering at me with issues about his console, saying it's faulty and can't run the latest build. Do you know what's wrong? What his problem really was?"

She glanced at Rin to find his gaze somewhere behind her. All spaced out. Couldn't he even have the decency to pretend? "Are you even listening?" she snapped. Her tone came out more pointed than she intended, making Rin flinch and wrestle to get his headspace back on track. Now that she had dug a grave deep enough to fall into it, she clicked her tongue. "What's the point of going home when you can't even stay in it?"

Rin seemed to find the marble patterns on their table interesting. He stabbed his spoon into his food. "Sorry," his voice was weak, as if he couldn't even bother talking. "I shouldn't even be thinking about work. What about the guy's issues?"

What was that about? Why was he thinking about work? Hye-jin set her spoon down, sliding her leg off the dining chair. "He isn't connected to the internet," she fished the last piece of fried chicken from the box. Well, there went her money. "That's why his console can't install the game he wanted."

To his credit, her husband bobbed his head and asked, "How did you resolve it, then?"

"Had to explain to this man who's nearer to his grave than he was to the internet's invention how the internet works," more flavor of the chicken coated her mouth as she chewed the big bite she just tore through the piece. She wiped the corners of her mouth with a hand. "And I had to do it through a call. How horrible."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rin debate whether to say something. It's probably going to be unhelpful, so she plowed on. "When I took this job, I was like, wow, they're taking me in. How amazing is this!. Then I got stuck into customer service," she laid her palm out in Rin's direction. "It's not like customer service is a dumb job; it's just not for me. I wanted to be inside the pitch room, where they spend their time building the games that hit the market and get paid for it."

Rin's face crumpled to vague confusion. Then, somewhere along the way, he gave up and focused on his food. Silence filled the entire cavern of their apartment once more. Hye-jin hunched over her meal and started picking at the scraps of meat stuck into the bone.

"If you're feeling useless there," Rin's voice bled into her ears. So, that's what his voice sounded like. "Why not just quit?"

Hye-jin's head snapped up. Was he joking? Now? She studied his face, noting the deepening lines on his forehead and the way his lips curved down. Huh. He's serious. She scoffed and chucked the last bone into the pile she had made. Her spine hit the chair's cushion when she sat back.

"It's not that easy to jump ship, especially with my age and my current experience," Hye-jin answered. Her own voice sounded foreign in her ears. What happened to the time when she and Rin talked about nothing but calculus and games? "I just need to figure out how to sneak inside the brainstorming and developing team. I mean, I'm sure they'd see my background in software engineering eventually. I didn't just spend four years of my youth for nothing."

Rin tapped a finger against the table, chewing on his lip. What's gotten him in a twist? "This is just a proposal, but..." he sighed, as if he couldn't be sure whether to spit it out or not. He should just get on with it.

Finally, after a few seconds of wrestling with himself, he pulled through. "How about becoming an independent game writer?" he asked. "You can quit your job and, at the same time, shop around various companies with your pitches. At least, you won't be bogged down with work you don't want. That and..."

"And?" Hye-jin arched an eyebrow. What's up with him wasting time like this? He never used to hesitate when it came to her.

Rin pushed his hair out of his forehead. It had gotten longer to the point of it being shaggy. Wasn't HR going to have a problem with that? "You'll be able to help around the house more," he glanced at the room where his mother, his brother, and the hired help were in, as if to prove a point. "I was thinking of letting Meryl go."

She pursed her lips and rubbed her oily fingers against each other. They itched to be washed, but it's inappropriate to stand up int he middle of such a serious conversation. He's telling her to quit working out and stay at home. As much as it thrilled her, the deal came with a catch. She had to do the chores and everything she hated to do.

"She's putting a strain on our finances?" she prompted. Rin had his reasons of proposing what he did. She'd have to give it to him. "Is that it?"

Rin bit his lip. He had finished his food long ago and was now tapping his spoon against an empty takeout box. "You and I aren't earning enough to even live on this floor," he said. It's a reminder of everything Hye-jin had been making herself forget for a little while longer. "I have to get Meryl when Mom and Kaito moved in, but now that we've more or less settled with everything, I think we can manage. But I can't...you know."

She narrowed her eyes. Of course, he's going to say that. "Why do I have to be the one who quit? I can work for the both of us," she said. "You need to take care of yourself too, and your work must be so soul-rending it's turned you into...this."

A frown scrunched Rin's face. "What does that mean?"

Hye-jin sighed. "You're more closed-off than usual," she said. "What's bothering you?"

"I don't think it'll make sense if I quit," Rin said instead, avoiding one uncomfortable topic to another. "My field has a fairly higher rate of mobility. You've just been complaining earlier about how it's hard to move up yours."

Something twanged inside Hye-jin. Her stomach turned, as if it's leading a revolt against all the chicken she stuffed down it. She hated Rin for pointing that out, more so for using it to bolster his point to the edge to push her off it. What she hated more was that he was right. She couldn't climb the ladder because she's not pretty enough or smart enough or part of the majority enough.

And if going independent was better for her, then she'd take this chance and start now. "Fine. I'll help around the house while you're out," she crossed her arms over her chest and faced Rin. "I expect you to take your half when you get home, though. Don't leave it all to me."

Visible relief passed across Rin's face. "Thanks," he said. "I'll try to get you a decent laptop for your pitches...but not this month. Or the next."

Hye-jin bobbed her head. It's a lame placation, but at least, Rin tried. "What are you going to do with your job?"

He looked like he was holding his dinner back in. "There's a promotion around the corner with an increase included," he said. "It would not be enough to keep Meryl, but it should be okay to let us live on this floor and provide for everyone without you having to have a monthly paycheck. It's a big leap."

"It is," she arched her eyebrows. "Would we still have enough for savings? We do need to start thinking about that."

"Should be," he said, even though Hye-jin had an inkling he didn't really believe it.

This conversation was done for the night, though. Even she felt like it had dragged on too long. "Well, let's clean up now, shall we?" she rose and tucked the chair closer to the dining table. The noisy scrape it made against the tiles was nothing but background cadence to her now.

Rin gave her a small smile and she made sure to give him one of her own. It's the least they could do to feel like whatever they have between them didn't feel more like a convoluted mess than it was.

She cleared the table, Rin helping her for a change. Maybe it's a sign. One to tell her things would be better. Somewhere down the road.