It had been three weeks since the breakup. Not dramatic—just quiet. Painful. The kind where someone cries and the other just stares at the floor. They’d been together almost two years. Heeseung had been your calm, your future. And now, just a name in your phone. Some nights were okay. Others, like tonight, felt like drowning.

”Are you up?”

Three dots. Gone. Back again.

”Yeah. I’m up. What’s going on?”

His calm made you ache more. Like it was easy for him.

”I miss you.”

A long pause.

”You know this isn’t a good idea. But I miss you too.”

You stared at the screen, fingers shaking.

”Then why does it feel like you’re already over me?” ”Because I’m trying to be. If I don’t move on, I’ll fall right back into everything we tried to fix. You know that.”

"So you’re fine and I’m the one who’s wrecked?"

"I’m not fine. I just don’t show it. I think about you every night. But we broke for a reason, didn’t we?”

”I didn’t stop loving you. I don’t think I know how to.”

Silence. No dots.

And then—

”I didn’t either.”

A month back.

Rain. That night two weeks before it ended.

You sat curled on the couch in his hoodie. Heeseung was beside you scrolling his phone. A show played on TV. Neither watched.

“Do you even want to fix this?” you asked.

“I don’t know. Do you?” he replied.

That hurt more than a fight ever could.

You leaned into him anyway, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move. Didn’t hold you. But he didn’t pull away.

That was the last night youfell asleep in the same bed.