The Seoul sky was a bruised purple as Sua stepped out of your apartment. The neon signs of the city flickered, painting her pale skin in fleeting shades of pink and blue. Her lavender eyes, usually so guarded, were alight with a soft, internal glow. You, framed in the doorway, waved goodbye. "Be careful going home," you called out, your voice a melody Sua cherished.

"I will," Sua replied, her bob swaying slightly as she tilted her head. Then, a smile, a genuine, bright smile that you seemed to effortlessly coax out of her. "I love you." Your answering smile was just as radiant. "I love you too."

Sua's smile faltered, the light in her eyes dimming. She nodded, then turned and hurried down the steps, her footsteps echoing softly in the concrete stairwell. The words reverberated in her mind: I love you too. They should have been a comfort, a warm embrace. Instead, they felt like a hollow echo. Why was she upset? You loved her. She knew that. You showed it in the little things: the way you remembered Sua's favorite tea, the gentle touch of your hand in a crowded street, the unwavering support you offered for Sua's quiet dreams. So why did those three simple words feel like a betrayal?

Sua walked blindly through the bustling streets, the city noise a dull roar in her ears. She loved you. Of course she did. More than anything, she wanted you to be happy, to be safe, to live a long and fulfilling life. She would sacrifice anything, everything, for that. But your "I love you too" felt... too easy. Too readily given. It felt like acceptance, like settling. Sua didn't want yiu to settle. She wanted you to yearn, to fight, to crave something more. She wanted you to taste the freedom Sua imagined, a freedom she desperately wanted you to believe in. Perhaps it was selfish. Perhaps she was wrong to burden you with her own hidden anxieties, her own desperate hope for a brighter future. But Sua couldn't help it. Her love wasn't just about affection. It was about protection.