Chapter Eight — The One Who Kept Walking
The door clicked shut behind her.
Mimi stood in the hallway, blinking through the blur of her tears. Her bag hung heavy from her shoulder, just like her chest — full of things she never wanted to carry.
She stood there for a second longer, frozen.
Maybe...
Maybe this would be the part Kijo would finally come after her.
Maybe she would hear the door swing open behind her. Hear her name called in that low voice. Feel strong arms pull her back and say all the things she needed to hear.
But the door stayed closed.
Just like Kijo's heart.
Mimi turned away.
Step by step, she walked toward the elevator. Each step echoing like a goodbye she didn't want to say. The second the doors slid shut in front of her, she broke.
Her knees wobbled. Her breath hitched.
She slid to the floor of the elevator, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook silently. She didn't care who saw. Didn't care if the building cameras caught her. She was so tired of pretending it didn't hurt.
Because it did.
It hurt more than anything.
She pressed her face to her knees and cried quietly until the elevator opened on the ground floor.
Aena was waiting outside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a sad, soft smile.
"I figured," she said gently, reaching out for her bag.
Mimi didn't say anything. Just let herself be led out like a ghost, her eyes hollow and her sparkly pink lashes wet with tears.
That night, Mimi didn't say much.
She curled up on Aena's couch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket, surrounded by stuffed animals and the soft scent of vanilla candles. Everything was warm, comforting — but none of it felt like home.
Because home wasn't just a place.
It was a person.
And that person didn't want her.
Meanwhile, back in the cold, silent apartment, Kijo sat in the same spot.
Unmoving.
Her hands rested on her knees, clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
The words Mimi had said rang in her ears like a haunting chorus.
"You didn't even care, did you?"
She did.
God, she did.
But she didn't know how to show it.
All her life, Kijo had only known sharpness. Control. Distance. And now, she was staring at the empty hallway where the only soft thing in her life had walked out — again — and she had let her.
Again.
Something broke in her then.
She stood abruptly, knocking over the glass of water she didn't drink.
And for once, she didn't clean it up.
She didn't care.
She ran.
Mimi was brushing her hair in the bathroom, trying to wipe away the evidence of her sadness when the doorbell rang.
Aena called out from the living room, "Do you want me to get that—?"
But Mimi was already walking to the door, brushing her tear-streaked cheek with her sleeve.
When she opened it, she froze.
Kijo.
Hair disheveled. Eyes wide. Breathing ragged like she'd run through the city just to get there.
"Mimi," she said.
Just her name.
But it sounded like a plea.
Mimi stared at her in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't let you go again," Kijo breathed, eyes searching her face like it was the only thing she wanted to see. "Not without saying it."
"Say what?" Mimi asked quietly, arms folded over her pink hoodie, her eyes guarded.
"I care," Kijo said. "I care so much it scares me."
Mimi blinked.
"I didn't know how to show it. I didn't know how to love someone like you. You're kind, you're gentle, you glow when you laugh, and I... I only know how to push people away."
A beat.
"I saw your dessert box," Kijo continued, voice cracking. "I didn't throw it away. It's still in my drawer. I've been carrying it in my briefcase every day. I couldn't eat it. I didn't deserve it."
Mimi's throat tightened.
"I saw you with your assistant," she whispered. "I thought you liked her. The way she touched you—"
"I didn't feel anything," Kijo said. "I didn't even notice her hands. I only noticed when I looked up and you were there. And then... you were gone."
Silence.
Mimi's voice trembled. "Do you know how humiliating it was to wait? To hope every night that you'd finally say something, do something? I was trying so hard, Kijo. I was trying to be enough."
"You were more than enough," Kijo said, her voice a whisper now. "I just... I wasn't ready."
"And now?" Mimi asked, tears at the edge again.
Kijo stepped forward slowly. "Now I'm terrified I lost you. And I don't want to be cold anymore. Not if it means living without you."
Mimi didn't respond right away.
Then—
She burst into tears.
And Kijo, finally, stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her.
This time, Mimi didn't push her away.
This time, she cried into Kijo's shoulder, letting everything fall apart for just a moment — because someone was finally holding her together.