The night was still warm when Nari opened her eyes, the sheets heavy and rumpled around her, the heat of a body pressed against her own, that familiar scent—musk, alcohol, pain—soaked into her hair and skin like a cruel reminder of what she had done, of what she had let into her bed, into her heart, into her entire soul.
Sion was still asleep, deeply, with a heavy, almost childlike breathing, an arm thrown around her waist in an instinctive, possessive gesture—almost tender despite the tension still vibrating in his muscles—and Nari didn't dare move, frozen by the violence of everything she felt.
She stared at the ceiling, unblinking, her eyes burning with insomnia, her heart beating far too fast for such a quiet morning, her chest tight, crushed, unable to understand how a single night could contain so many contradictions: a Sion drunk, vulnerable, almost broken… and her, who had wanted to run but had clung to him as if her own breath depended on his.
Her fingers brushed the line of his jaw without thinking—his stubble, the lips she had tasted again and again—and every movement sparked a guilty shiver, a sweet burn tearing through her stomach.
It was too much.
Too much for one night.
Too much for one heart.
And on the corner of the nightstand, cold and bright, the ring gleamed under the morning light like a final judgment.
A ring.
A symbol of a yes she should never have spoken.
Of a future she no longer truly wanted, yet clung to like a life raft—an excuse, a way to whisper to her heart:
"Stop beating for him."
But her heart listened to nothing.
Not even reason.
She clenched the sheets between her fingers, her breath trembling, tears rising silently as the night replayed in her mind.
She had thought she was dreaming, believed he would never come like that—vulnerable, drunk, shaking, with that muted pain in his eyes, that quiet despair vibrating through his kisses, that fragile softness that didn't belong to him.
And yet, he had come.
Into her bed.
Against her skin.
Against her mouth.
She bit her lip until it bled.
Reality crashed onto her all at once:
She had betrayed.
She had given in.
She had done it again.
She was nothing but a rope ready to snap.
— Hey… wake up… you need to leave… she whispered through a broken breath, unable to bear the heat of him any longer, yet incapable of truly pushing him away.
Sion moved, groaned a little, his breathing quickening as if he were climbing out of a heavy dream, then he opened his eyes—clouded, dark, the hangover carved into every line of his face. He sat up abruptly, almost violently, as if reality had slapped him before he was fully awake.
He said nothing.
Didn't even look at her.
He grabbed his clothes from the floor—discarded the night before—pulled them on with a trembling hand, avoided her gaze as if it burned.
Nari felt her stomach twist.
It was as if the night had never existed.
As if the broken whispers, the trembling kisses, had been nothing but an alcohol-soaked hallucination.
And as he reached for the door, his hand on the handle, Nari's heart tore open—unable to carry the silent weight, unable to keep this inside her chest.
In a tiny breath, almost smothered by the sheets, she whispered:
— I'm getting married…
The entire world seemed to hold its breath.
Time froze, clean and sharp.
Sion turned to stone.
His back locked.
His shoulders trembled—just barely.
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white.
A vein pulsed at his neck, swollen, ready to burst.
Nari had never seen a silence this dangerous.
This heavy.
This filled with something she had never imagined she would see in his body.
But he said nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He opened the door.
Slammed it so hard the walls shook.
And he left.
Just like that.
Leaving her in a bed that still smelled like him.
And Nari broke.
Completely.
Into tiny, shaking pieces.
The silence fell after he left, a silence so heavy it seemed to twist the air itself, and Nari stayed still, the sheets wrapped around her, her hair tangled, her breath uneven as if someone had ripped her heart out with bare hands.
She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle a sob, but the sound escaped anyway—shattered, trembling, no longer a human voice, but something torn from the bottom of the chest.
Loneliness struck all at once.
A total, absolute, brutal loneliness.
The night had been soft.
The morning was a massacre.
She pulled her knees to her chest, curled under the wrinkled sheets that still smelled of him—his warm, intoxicating, deep scent—and she felt as if an icy blade was lodged in her stomach with every breath.
Why did I say that… why now… why like that…
She didn't know.
Maybe she wanted honesty.
Maybe she hoped for a reaction.
A sign.
A word.
Anything.
But there had only been that slamming door—
that silent violence still ringing in the room like an echo of goodbye.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, her face buried in the pillow still warm, her body shaking, her eyes burning. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe an hour. Maybe a thousand years.
When she finally stood up, every movement hurt.
The floor was cold.
The morning light, too white, burned her eyes.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as if trying to escape.
She leaned against the wall, a hand over her mouth, as the sentence replayed again and again:
I'm getting married.
She hated herself for saying it.
She hated herself for hurting.
She hated herself for hoping.
She told herself that Sion was nothing, that he had never been anything more than chaos, a wildfire, a sweet poison that burned everything it touched.
She told herself she needed to forget him.
She told herself she had a fiancé—a good man, a steady man—who wanted to marry her, who loved her, who offered her a simple life.
A life without pain.
Without temptation.
Without him.
But every sentence rang false, as if someone had changed the soundtrack of her life and she was now hearing lies she couldn't stop.
She dragged herself into the bathroom, turned on the light.
Her reflection hit her like a punch.
Her lips were swollen, bitten.
Her neck still bore the marks of his mouth.
Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained with dried tears.
Her skin kept the imprint of his hands, his caresses, his body.
She ran her fingers shakily over her own throat.
She closed her eyes.
The image returned instantly:
Sion leaning over her, his hands on her waist, his breath—hot and alcoholic—against her neck, his rough voice whispering against her skin like a confession he had never dared to say out loud.
She jolted back, as if touching herself awakened a memory that hurt too much.
— Stop… she whispered to no one, her voice breaking.
She tried to breathe.
To extinguish the fire still burning inside her.
To anchor herself in the present.
In reality.
But reality was also the ring.
She went back to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and took the ring in her hand. She turned it between her fingers. The light reflected on it like a cold blade.
A commitment.
A promise.
A mapped-out future.
She clenched her jaw.
Why can't I be happy?
Because her heart was somewhere else.
Because the place where she actually breathed was no longer in this simple life.
Because Sion had burned an imprint into her skin she could no longer erase.
Her tears fell onto the ring.
And she knew.
She knew she was going to suffer.
That he would destroy her.
That she would lose everything.
But she also knew she would never forget him.
Never.
She set the ring on the table.
Slowly.
As if she were placing a bomb.
Then she folded the sheets, gathered her things, and took a deep breath.
The world kept turning.
Her life kept moving.
But something inside her had died when that door slammed.
A small, silent death that warned of the storm to come.