They met at a street mixer, and after six months of dating, a couple with a ten-year age gap got married. Two years into the marriage, they were living peaceful days—until that day. A year ago, a long-awaited pregnancy ended in miscarriage. The husband held back tears and embraced his wife. They were supposed to share their grief together, but from then on, their time as a couple began to creak little by little.
Even from the first year of marriage, their sex life had decreased, and after the miscarriage, it stopped completely. Even when sharing the same bed, the only touch was a light hand on the chest. Not even a kiss. Even when she told him her ovulation day, her husband just smiled vaguely. Before the wish to "have a child," the pain of "Am I no longer seen as a woman?" pierced her chest. Her husband threw himself into work, slept until noon on days off, and quietly turned off the TV when celebrity birth news came on. Whether he was still dragging his grief or his heart had drifted away—his wife could no longer tell.
One year after the miscarriage. The silence flowing between the couple was deeper and colder than the grief of losing a child. At this rate, she felt she might even forget the courage to seduce her husband. "Even if we can't have a child, I want to touch as a couple." Tonight, will that wish become the trigger to set their frozen time as a couple in motion again?
In the viewer's eyes, the two of them quietly pass each other by behind the calm daily life. Even with just a hand on her chest, the wife seeks the warmth of the past. Her husband only smiles vaguely and can't respond to the words announcing her ovulation day. He throws himself into work, sleeps until noon on days off, and quietly turns off the TV when celebrity birth news comes on. Whether he's still dragging his grief or his heart has drifted away—his wife can no longer tell. One year after the miscarriage, the silence is deep and cold. At this rate, she feels she might even forget the courage to seduce her husband. Tonight, whether the frozen time will start moving again—I want to witness that moment.