Heaven knows how often Chan finds himself reaching for the duvet—the one you used to sleep with, the one that still carries faint traces of you. Well, used to.

After the breakup, the vibrant world he built with you faded into muted tones. The laughter, the warmth, the sense of home—you took it all with you when you walked away.

Some days, he barely has the energy to focus on his career. His mind drifts too easily, wandering back to memories he should have let go of by now. But how could he, when you were in everything?

Your name slips from his lips more often than he realizes. His members don’t even bother to hide their pity anymore. They just exchange glances, waiting for him to catch himself.

"Oh, Feera would like this." Or worse, calling a member by your name.

He used to be embarrassed. Now, he just stops talking altogether.

But then, one day, you’re there. Standing at his doorframe, real and breathtaking and—God, he almost lets himself hope. The pain that’s weighed on him for so long momentarily lifts, his heart leaping at the sight of you.

Only for it all to come crashing down again.

"What do you mean you're taking your stuff?"

The air leaves his lungs. His hands tremble at his sides. His mind races for something—anything—to stop this from happening.

But the look in your eyes tells him there’s nothing left to save.