I didn't notice how quiet it had become until the door clicked behind him. Woo-jin. Gone. My chest tightened instantly, a cold, hollow pit spreading through me.
I sank into the chair I'd been pacing around, jaw tight, fists clenched on my knees. Every second he stayed away felt like a thousand knives scraping along my ribs.
I knew what was coming. I had always known. The words were in the air before he even spoke them.
"Dae-hyun…" His voice was quiet, trembling, but there was a weight behind it, a finality that made my stomach twist.
I looked up. He was standing there, blue eyes shining with unshed tears, his small frame wrapped in my jacket from the other night. But there was something different—something I hadn't prepared for.
"I just… realized something." His voice cracked, fragile as glass. "You… you never liked me."
I froze. The words hit me like a punch I couldn't brace for.
"What?" I managed, voice low, sharp, hiding the tremor in my chest.
He swallowed hard, hugging himself as if the motion could shield him from the hurt he felt. "You… you've never… not once. You always… sympathized with me."
Sympathized. The word echoed in my mind, heavy and hollow.
"I—" I started, but the words lodged in my throat. Because he was right.
"Don't. Just… don't lie to me, Dae-hyun," he whispered, voice breaking. "I trusted you. I thought… I thought you cared. But it's just… pity, isn't it?"
"No!" I snapped, sharper than I meant to. My voice shook, and I hated myself for it. "It's not pity!"
He flinched, as if I'd struck him. "Then… then why? Why am I feeling like this? Why do I feel… so small next to you, like I'm nothing?"
I leaned forward, fists digging into my knees, trying to hold back the storm in my chest. "Woo-jin… it's not like that. I—"
"You never liked me," he interrupted, voice louder now, trembling with anger and hurt. "You never… wanted me. You only ever… tolerated me. Always sympathized. Never loved."
I flinched at the accusation, every syllable a blade cutting me open. I wanted to reach out, to grab him, to pull him close and scream that he was wrong—but I couldn't. I didn't know how.
He took a step back, shaking his head, tears spilling freely now. "I can't… I can't do this anymore. I… I'm divorcing you, Dae-hyun. I can't… live knowing this is all you ever felt for me. You always wanted a divorce didn't you."
I wanted to stop him. I wanted to beg him to stay. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because if I did… the truth I refused to admit—to myself, to him—would spill out.
He turned away, walking toward the door, small, trembling, but determined. Every step tore a hole through my chest, and I sat there frozen, the silence heavier than any words I could speak.
I had lost him. Not to someone else. Not because he hated me. But because I had never learned how to be what he needed me to be.
And that hurt worse than any knife could.
I didn't move. Not at first. My chest ached, my hands trembled, and the silence in the apartment pressed down like a weight I couldn't lift.
And then the panic hit.
"Woo-jin!" I called out, voice low but sharp, brittle like glass breaking. My words echoed off the walls, but he didn't answer.
I jumped to my feet, pacing, running a hand through my hair. My chest was tight, my stomach knotted. He's leaving. He's leaving, and it's my fault.
I tried to remember the first time I had seen him smile at me, the moments I had tried to protect him, the rare times I had softened around him. Each memory now felt like a knife, a reminder of everything I'd failed at. I can't remember anything and I'm positive I know him from before.
"Damn it!" I muttered, slamming my fist against the wall. My knuckles stung. Why can't I fix this?
The door creaked. My head snapped toward it.
"Dae-hyun…" His voice. Quiet. Trembling. Fragile.
I ran to him, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through my chest. "Stop. Don't walk away. Please."
He stepped back instinctively. "I… I can't. I can't live like this, knowing you never—"
"Never what? Never cared?" I cut him off, voice cracking despite my effort to sound strong. "Woo-jin… that's not true!"
His eyes filled with tears, and I saw the hurt carved into every line of his small face. "Then… why does it feel like it is, Dae-hyun? Every time… every time I look at you, I feel… nothing. Nothing but pity."
The word struck me like a slap. I wanted to scream, to beg him to understand—but I couldn't make the words come. Not the ones that mattered.
"I… I don't know how to…" My voice faltered. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. God, I can't lose him. Not like this.
He shook his head, taking another step back, away from me. "It's over. I… I'm leaving. I can't stay. I can't pretend anymore."
"Don't," I whispered, voice hoarse. "Please… don't go."
He froze. The word 'please' hung in the air between us, heavy and fragile. He looked at me, green eyes wide, searching. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him close, to tell him everything I'd never been able to say—but the words wouldn't come.
Instead, I swallowed hard, chest tight, and whispered again, almost to myself, "I can't… I can't let you go."
But even as I said it, I knew he could already feel it—the truth I refused to admit: I had never shown him the way I truly felt. And now it might be too late.
I followed him down the hallway, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst. Every step he took away from me twisted my chest tighter, but I forced myself to stay calm—or at least look calm.
"Woo-jin!" I called, voice sharp, brittle with tension. He froze, glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide and scared.
"Dae-hyun… please…" His voice was fragile, trembling, like it could shatter at any second. "I… I can't. I can't do this anymore."
"Why?!" I nearly shouted, fists clenching at my sides. "Why are you walking away? Tell me why!"
He shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You… you never loved me! You never… wanted me. You only… sympathized with me!"
The word "sympathized" hit me like a knife, sharp and cold. My chest tightened painfully. I wanted to scream, to beg him to understand—but the words I needed weren't there.
"I… I never wanted to hurt you," I said, voice low, but rough. "I… I didn't know how to show it. I—"
"You didn't know how to show it?" he spat, voice cracking with anger and hurt. "Every time I needed you, you were there… but not really. You tolerated me, felt sorry for me… never loved me!"
I flinched, each word cutting me open. My fists tightened until my nails dug into my palms. "Woo-jin…" I stepped closer, chest tight, words choking me. "I… I can't lose you. I—"
He backed away again, shaking his head. "It's over. I… I'm leaving. I'm divorcing you. I can't… I can't stay knowing this is all you ever felt for me."
I froze for a moment, then let out a bitter, sharp laugh. "Oh? You want a divorce? Fine." My voice was cold, almost cruel. "I… I've always wanted it too. Always. Maybe now you can be happy without me, huh?"
He froze, stunned, eyes wide, mouth opening but no words coming out. "W-what…?"
"You heard me," I said, sharper now, keeping my gaze averted, chest aching. "I never needed… whatever this is between us. I never… wanted to pretend."
He swallowed hard, trembling, green eyes full of disbelief and pain. "Y-you… you mean that?"
I didn't answer. I only looked away, jaw tight, hiding the way my chest was tearing apart. "I mean… go. Do what you need to do. I… I don't care."
He flinched, and I could see the hurt radiating from him. He turned, walking toward the door, small, trembling, yet resolute. Every step tore at something deep inside me, something I couldn't stop.
I wanted to run after him, to grab him, to scream that it wasn't true—that I did care—but I couldn't. I had built walls around myself too high, too strong.
Inside, though… my chest was burning, my stomach twisting. Each step he took away from me was a knife turning in my gut. I hated that I couldn't call him back. I hated that I had pushed him to this. I hated myself more than I could ever show.
And yet… I stayed silent, pretending cruelty while my heart broke into pieces no one could see.
I stood frozen, hands trembling, trying to breathe through the ache that wrapped around my ribs like iron bands. He's gone. He's really gone.
I wanted to call him back, to run after him, to shove my pride and cruelty aside and beg him to stay—but I couldn't. Not anymore. Not after the walls I'd built, the cold mask I'd worn for so long.
Tears burned my eyes, though I refused to let them fall. I hated that I cared this much. I hated the warmth and panic clawing through my chest. I hated that I couldn't stop thinking about him, about his small, fragile form trembling before me just moments ago.
"You… idiot," I muttered to the empty room, voice rough, broken. "You walk away… and I can't even stop you. I can't even say… what I should have said."
My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to protect you. I wanted… you. And I didn't know how to show it. I couldn't.
I sank to the floor, back against the wall, staring at the door he had vanished through. His jacket—my jacket—still smelled faintly of him, and it twisted something raw inside me.
I had lost him. Not because someone else took him. Not because of hate. But because I had been too cold, too cruel, too afraid to show what I truly felt.
The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. And yet, even in the quiet, even with the pain cutting through me like knives, I knew one thing:
I would never stop thinking about him. Never stop regretting. Never stop wanting him—even if he never came back.
And for the first time in my life, I realized that some losses… can't be undone, no matter how much you bleed inside.