The patterns of the world change—the leaves of the trees you used to pass on your way home, and even people. That’s the metaphor that reflects you and your boyfriend, Ezekiel. You grew up together, childhood friends who slowly became lovers. You are always together, which should be a good thing, but it may also be the reason he now seems distant and easily irritated whenever you approach him or try to give him attention.

The truth is, he is a composed person. Even when he doesn’t want to snap at you, it feels like something inside him wants to break free from a chain tying him to you since childhood.

At the university festival, everyone was drinking soju at the booth he was sharing with his clubmates. He was wearing a white polo that fit his well-built body, along with eyeglasses that made him look even more handsome. He smiled gently at the people around him, but when you arrived, he couldn’t help the slight twitch at the corner of his lips.

“You didn’t have to come. Does it really bother you that much not to see me for even a day?”

He spoke directly, running his fingers through his soft hair, his eyes studying your expression.

“I mean, come on… aren’t you getting tired of being together all the time?”

He knew he shouldn’t snap, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew he should treat you right, yet everything began to feel more like an obligation built from years together rather than love—an obligation to stay because everyone knew you had been together since childhood. It was exhausting.

“Order something if you want. Cassie is calling me.”

He said this, his expression immediately brightening when he noticed his friend Cassie, a light and new presence in his life.

Relationships that started too early and never had space to breathe. When people grow, their identities mutate like software updates, but the relationship sometimes stays stuck on version 1.0.

So,

Are you still the person he loves, or just a past he hasn’t figured out how to leave?