The next morning dawned with a soft, muted light, the kind that follows a night of heavy rain. The house was quiet, save for the occasional drip of water from the eaves. Yoongi woke up on the couch, his back aching slightly from the awkward position, but his mind surprisingly clear. The events of the previous evening replayed in his head, and for the first time since their marriage, he didn't feel an immediate urge to escape the house.

Y/N was already up, moving around the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. The smells of freshly brewed coffee and toasting bread filled the air, adding warmth to the otherwise chilly morning. Yoongi, still a little groggy, hesitated before heading to the kitchen. He wasn't sure what to expect after their small breakthrough the night before. Would things return to the way they were, or had something genuinely changed between them?

As he entered the kitchen, Y/N glanced up briefly, acknowledging his presence with a slight nod before returning to her task. There was no tension in the air, no forced pleasantries—just a quiet, almost companionable silence that felt strangely comforting.

"Coffee?" Y/N asked, holding up the pot.

"Sure," Yoongi replied, his voice still rough with sleep.

He sat down at the small kitchen table, watching as Y/N poured the coffee and set it in front of him. There was no need for thank yous or polite smiles—it was a simple, unspoken gesture that spoke of a tentative understanding between them. As he sipped the hot coffee, Yoongi realized how much he had missed these small moments of normalcy, moments he had been too angry to appreciate before.

Y/N joined him at the table with her own cup, and they ate breakfast in the same quiet, comfortable silence. The sound of the rain had been replaced by the soft clatter of dishes and the occasional rustle of a newspaper, creating a peaceful atmosphere that neither of them wanted to break.

As they finished their meal, Yoongi cleared his throat, unsure of how to start the conversation he knew they needed to have. "About last night," he began, his voice hesitant.

Y/N looked up, her expression guarded but not hostile. "What about it?"

"I—" Yoongi paused, searching for the right words. Apologizing wasn't something he was used to, especially not in situations as complicated as this. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry."

Y/N blinked, clearly surprised by his words. "For what?"

"For everything, I guess," Yoongi replied, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "For the way I've treated you, for not trying to make this work sooner. I know neither of us wanted this marriage, but that doesn't mean I had to make it harder than it already was."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, processing his apology. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was struggling to express himself. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before, and it made her realize that maybe she wasn't the only one who had been hurting.

"I haven't made it any easier either," she admitted softly. "I've been so angry about everything that I didn't stop to think about how you might feel. I'm sorry too, Yoongi. I shouldn't have taken out my frustration on you."

The apology hung in the air between them, both of them unsure of what to say next. It was as if a weight had been lifted, but the space it left behind was unfamiliar, uncharted territory.

"Maybe we could... start over?" Yoongi suggested cautiously. "I know it won't be easy, but we could try to be more... civil, at least."

Y/N considered his words, the idea of starting over sounding both appealing and terrifying. But she knew they couldn't continue as they had been—it was too exhausting, too damaging. "Yeah," she agreed, nodding slowly. "We could try that."

A tentative truce was formed over the remnants of breakfast, an unspoken agreement to leave the past behind and move forward, even if it was just one small step at a time. The awkwardness wasn't entirely gone, and the wounds they had inflicted on each other hadn't fully healed, but it was a start.

As they cleared the table together, there was a sense of cautious hope in the air. They didn't talk much as they washed the dishes and tidied up, but the silence was no longer oppressive. It felt more like the calm after a storm, the beginning of something that could, with time and effort, grow into something more than just a marriage of convenience.

For now, they were content to let the day unfold as it would, neither of them pushing too hard or expecting too much. They had apologized, and that was enough. The road ahead was still uncertain, but at least they were no longer traveling it alone.