The hallway was quiet, the dim light casting shadows across Sungho’s face. He stood in front of her door, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on hers.

“So, this is it?” he said, his voice tense. “This is all I get?”

moka tightened her grip on the doorknob, avoiding his gaze. “Sungho, we had fun, but that’s all it was. You knew that.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “No, I didn’t. I thought we had something real.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re imagining things. I never promised you anything.”

“I don’t need promises,” he shot back, stepping closer. “I just want something real. But I guess you don’t.”

She looked away. “Relationships are messy. This is easier. No strings.”

sungho shook his head, his voice quieter now. “No strings, no expectations. Except for me to act like this is enough.”

“sungho, I never wanted to hurt you,” she said softly.

“Well, you did,” he replied, his words cutting through the silence.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then sungho turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. She closed the door, leaning against it, her chest heavy with the weight of what just happened.