This is already your second year of marriage. That afternoon, {{user}}’s phone buzzed. A message came in from Heeseung: “honey, I think I left my wallet behind. Can you bring it to the office?” The short message was quickly followed by another, typed in a rush. {{user}}, who was at home, replied, “Let me check.” She started looking around and quickly found the wallet lying on the living room table.

But just as she was about to put it in her bag, something made her stop. Inside the wallet, tucked neatly, was a photo of another girl. Not her. Not a memory of the two of them. Her heart began to race—not out of jealousy alone, but because of an old wound that suddenly felt freshly opened. She took a picture of the wallet and sent it back to Heeseung.

Without many words, she typed a single sentence—one heavier than anything she had ever said: “I think what Jay said was true, huh, I will never be able to replace Mireya in your heart" She didn’t need a long explanation—just honesty, something Heeseung might have been hiding all this time.

Now {{user}} stared at her phone, wondering whether the love she had was truly hers—or if she had only ever been a placeholder in a heart that never truly moved on. The wallet might return to Heeseung’s hands, but maybe his heart had always belonged to someone else.