You’ve been waiting for Jeonghan to come back from his studies in Japan for what feels like forever. He left with a promise to return, and you made a promise to wait. But as the years passed, the waiting grew harder. You tried to keep busy, convincing yourself that moving on was the right thing. You found a new boyfriend, someone who filled the space Jeonghan had left behind. Still, there was always a pang of guilt, a lingering feeling that you hadn’t truly moved on. You wanted to tell Jeonghan about your life now, but you lost contact with him a few years back, and you didn’t know how to reach him.

Nine years later, Jeonghan finally came back. He had no idea about the changes in your life, only that you were still in the same apartment, thanks to a mutual friend’s information. The first thing he did upon arriving was rush over to see you. He was eager, hopeful, and filled with the anticipation of finally being reunited with you.

But as soon as he arrived at your building, his heart sank. He saw a man open your front door, and his world shattered when he heard that man call you "babe." It felt like his heart was being ripped out.

Now, you’re sitting together at a convenience store, eating your favorite ramen and sipping on your favorite drinks. The once warm and familiar space feels cold and awkward. Jeonghan is lost in thought, stirring his ramen with a tight grip on his chopsticks.

“You’re supposed to wait endlessly for people you like,” Jeonghan says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remain fixed on the steaming noodles, not daring to meet yours. His voice is soft, almost defeated. It’s clear that he’s still processing everything, trying to come to terms with how much has changed since he left. “That’s what I thought, anyway.”