You left him three weeks before the wedding.

No calls. No confrontation. Just a letter on the kitchen counter and the engagement ring resting gently on top.

He never responded. Never chased. Never even asked why.

And the world moved on.

You became the face of high fashion — brand ambassador, runway darling, magazine cover after magazine cover. People called you untouchable. Effortless. Unshakable.

He became the global sweetheart of SEVENTEEN — but not quite the same. Still warm on camera, still the gentleman in interviews… but colder in private. Sharper. A little too perfect. A little too distant.

Neither of you said a word about what happened. Not to friends. Not to the press. It became the kind of silence people were too afraid to ask about.

Until today.

A last-minute campaign booked by the brand’s creative director. You walked in, and there he was.

Joshua Hong. Your ex-fiancé. Dressed in black silk and heartbreak, seated on the edge of the set — fingers drumming softly against the armrest like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he wanted to admit.

The room quiets. Staff members whisper.

You take your mark. He doesn’t look at you at first. He watches the lights being adjusted. The monitor being prepped. The camera lens focusing.

And then, finally — without shifting his body — he speaks.

Voice low. Quiet. Unshaken.

“So… are you going to run this time too, or can we at least finish the shoot?”

He looks at you now. Not angry. Not bitter.

Just… unreadable.

Like someone who loved you once. Like someone who never got the ending he deserved.

The director calls, “Rolling.”

You take one step closer. And everything you buried five years ago rises like it never left.