When he ran away, honestly I wished he didn't come back.
The rain was loud that night—angry, almost like it was mocking me.
I sat on the couch, legs crossed, coffee cooling in my hands. The storm outside rattled the windows, and for once, I was grateful. The sound of rain drowned out my thoughts.
I told myself for the hundredth time that I was better off without him. That I'd made the right decision, going to my mom and finally getting her to agree to the divorce– well almost. I told myself I didn't care if Woo-jin cried, begged, or made that ridiculous puppy face.
It wasn't my problem anymore.
At least, that's what I was telling myself when the knock came.
It was soft, almost drowned out by the rain. I frowned, setting the tea down and standing reluctantly.
When I opened the door, my heart stopped.
Woo-jin stood there, completely soaked. Water dripped from his pink hair—usually perfectly styled, now a wet mess sticking to his pale forehead. His black shirt clung to his lean frame, translucent in places, his shoulders trembling slightly from the cold.
But it wasn't his drenched state that made me freeze.
It was his eyes.
Those stupid, bright blue eyes that were usually full of mischief were dark now, tired and shining in the dim light. His eyes looked dead.
He looked… broken.
"Woo-jin?" I heard myself say, more startled than I wanted to sound.
He didn't answer right away. Just stood there, staring at me like I was the last thing keeping him upright.
"You should've stayed home," I said finally, my voice sharper than I intended. "You'll get sick."
He still didn't speak, just blinked at me once before lowering his gaze.
The sight of him—silent, dripping, pathetic—made something twist in my chest. But I forced the feeling down, hard.
"You can't keep doing this," I said coldly. "Showing up here, acting like—like this."
At last, he opened his mouth.
"If you want me gone," he said quietly, so quietly I almost missed it over the rain,
"I'll go."
The words hit harder than I expected. I'd wanted him to beg. I'd wanted him to fight back, like he always did, to give me an excuse to keep hating him.
But instead, he just stood there, defeated, waiting for my answer.
I hated that my first instinct was to pull him inside.
Instead, I crossed my arms and glared. "You think that'll make me feel guilty? Just standing there all pitiful?"
He flinched. A real, visible flinch.
"Get in before you collapse," I muttered finally, stepping aside. "I don't want your dramatic death on my conscience. Today is your last day."
He obeyed silently, his wet shoes squeaking against the floor as he walked in.
The air was heavy between us, the storm outside echoing through the room. Woo-jin stood in the entryway, dripping on the hardwood, looking completely out of place.
"Go shower before you get hypothermia," I snapped, because I didn't know what else to say.
But he didn't move.
He just stood there, staring at the floor, his wet lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
"Did you hear me?" I demanded.
Slowly, he looked up, and for the first time I saw something raw in his expression. Something I didn't know how to deal with.
"I heard you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
And just like that, the room felt too small.
Woo-jin still hadn't moved.
Water kept dripping from his clothes, forming a small puddle by his feet. My patience snapped.
"What are you standing there for?" I barked. "Go shower, or leave. I don't care which."
His hands trembled slightly as he finally spoke.
"If I leave… you won't let me come back."
I blinked. The way he said it—flat, resigned—made my stomach knot.
"You're right," I said coldly, crossing my arms. "So maybe you should go now and save us both the trouble."
He shifted his head up. His blue eyes went wide, shining too brightly under the light.
"You really mean that?" His voice cracked, quiet but sharp enough to cut through the sound of the rain.
"Yes," I said without hesitation, though my throat felt tight.
"We barely even know each other, Woo-jin. This whole marriage thing—" I waved my hand dismissively. "—was a mistake from the start. Stop acting like we're some epic love story."
He flinched again, his whole body recoiling like I'd slapped him.
"This isn't a joke to me," he said finally, his voice shaking.
"Well, it feels like one to me!" I snapped. "Every day, you're clinging to me like some lovesick puppy, and for what? You don't even know me! On top of that you embarrass me everywhere!"
"I do," he said suddenly, voice breaking. "I do know you."
"Then you're delusional."
He stepped forward, his wet shoes squeaking against the floor, but I didn't back away.
"I'll do anything," he said desperately, his hands fisting at his sides. "Anything you want. I'll stop teasing you, I'll stop embarrassing you, I'll stop—" His voice faltered. "Just don't divorce me. Don't throw me away."
I should've been satisfied. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? To make him hurt the way he made me hurt?
But watching him shake like that, watching his perfect image crumble until he looked more like a scared kid than the arrogant actor I knew, made something in my chest twist painfully.
"You're ridiculous," I said harshly. "You're crying over a marriage that shouldn't have even happened."
He froze, and I saw his jaw clench, his breath shuddering as if he was holding himself together by a thread.
"Maybe to you," he said softly, "but not to me."
That threw me off, but before I could react, he grabbed my wrist. His fingers were freezing cold but his grip was firm.
"I don't care if you hate me," he said, his voice cracking as tears slipped down his wet cheeks. "I don't care if you yell at me, push me away, curse at me—just don't make me disappear from your life."
His blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, the storm outside seemed to fade.
I hated how my chest ached at the sight of him, hated how my anger felt weaker with every word he spoke.
"I can't do this forever," I muttered, freeing my wrist. "I can't keep pretending this is normal. You're exhausted."
"Then let me work harder," he said desperately. "Let me be someone you don't want to leave."
I looked away, because if I didn't, I was going to say something I couldn't take back.
"Dry yourself off before you ruin my floor," I muttered, stalking toward the kitchen.
Behind me, I heard him let out a small, shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.
"Okay…"
After that.
Woo-jin sat on the couch, soaked hair plastered to his forehead, blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He hugged his knees, trembling slightly, and yet I didn't move. I didn't care.
"You think sitting there like that is going to make me feel anything?" I asked coldly, arms crossed. "You're ridiculous."
"I… I do know you," he said, voice cracking. "I know you better than you think."
I laughed, sharp and cruel. "You know me? You barely know me. You don't know anything about me."
"Yes, I do!" His voice rose, trembling with desperation. "I remember… I remember your laugh, the way you always furrow your brow when you're thinking, the way your shoulders tense when you're angry—"
I snorted. "Cute. Really convincing. You think crying makes you honest?"
"I'm serious, Dae-hyun!" His blue eyes were wide, wet, pleading. "I… I've always known you. Every time you pushed me away, every time you yelled at me, I knew you… I knew you weren't like this inside."
I raised an eyebrow, deliberately cold. "Oh? And how exactly would you know that? You're just an omega clinging to someone he barely knows."
"Stop!" he shouted, shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Stop pretending! You think I don't see it? I know you're scared, that's all! You act cold and cruel, but I see past it. I see the real you, Dae-hyun!" He paused, then whispered. "I know you more than you know yourself."
I leaned against the counter, voice low and biting. "I don't need your observation skills, Woo-jin. I don't need your fake concern. You're pathetic, that's all."
"I'm pathetic?" he whispered, almost to himself, but his voice cracked. "I'm pathetic because I care about you?"
"Yes." I said flatly. "You're pathetic because you don't understand boundaries, because you think your feelings matter more than mine. I don't care about you. I never did."
He flinched, lips trembling. "You—don't care? You're saying that… but you don't understand. I've known you. I've always known you. Even when you hated me. Even when you shoved me away."
I turned my head, staring at the window, letting the words hang in the air. "You think knowing someone makes you special? It doesn't. You're just… annoying. And wet. And pathetic."
"Dae-hyun!" His voice broke, a loud cry that echoed in the quiet apartment. "Please! You can't just throw me away! Don't pretend you don't care! Don't do this!"
I finally looked at him, letting my gaze fall cold and harsh on his trembling figure. "I told you… I don't care. You're replaceable, Woo-jin. Don't make me say it again."
He shook his head violently, sobs escaping him. "No! You don't get to be heartless! You can't! I know you, Dae! I know the way your hands clench when you're angry, the way your chest tightens when someone bothers you! I know everything!"
"Yet you decide to ignore it?" I blinked, but I didn't soften. I didn't flinch. I didn't feel anything. "You're delusional," I said, voice icy. "Stop pretending that you've got me figured out. You don't. You never did. And you never will."
Tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving wet streaks against his pale skin. "Then why… Why does it hurt so much when I think about losing you? Why does my chest ache when you say these things?"
I didn't answer. I didn't need to.
"I'm begging you, Dae-hyun," he whispered, voice breaking so badly it sounded like it could shatter. "I don't care what you want from me. I'll do anything. Just… don't leave me. Don't make me disappear from your life."
I looked at him, heartlessly. "And you think begging like that will work? You're wrong."
He shook, blue eyes wide, searching mine for a crack in the cold wall I had built. "Then at least… just… let me stay in the room with you. Let me be near you. That's all I ask. Please…"
I turned my gaze to the floor, deliberately ignoring the tremor in my chest. "Fine. Sit there. Don't touch me. Don't say anything. I won't stop you, but don't think this changes anything."
He exhaled shakily, relief mixing with more tears. He curled back into the corner of the couch, still trembling, still soaked, still fragile.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I didn't feel anything.
But in the back of my mind, something tiny, unwelcome, was stirring—a flash, a whisper, a sense that I had known this person far longer than I remembered. Something I quickly shoved away, refusing to acknowledge it.
Why does it feel like I've known him for so much longer than this…?
I looked at him one last time, heartless, detached, refusing to let any warmth leak in. And yet, despite myself, my chest tightened in a way I didn't understand.
I hated it.
I hated him.
And I hated that even as I felt nothing, part of me knew I'd never forget him.
I hated all omegas, especially Woo-jin.