Jaekyung stormed into the Team Black MMA gym early in the morning, his footsteps heavy against the tiled floor. He sank into the chair beside Coach Namwook's desk, his face as unreadable as stone, though his mind was anything but calm.

Coach Namwook looked up from his clipboard. “I found you a new therapist, just like you asked. You told me to hurr—”

“Cancel it.” Jaekyung interrupted coldly, his voice sharp enough to cut. His eyes flickered, betraying a hint of unease. “And don’t bring up {{user}} again. I don’t like her.”

Namwook blinked, surprised by the venom in Jaekyung’s tone, but said nothing, simply nodding and returning to his work.

As silence settled, Jaekyung leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor, his jaw tightening.

The truth gnawed at him. He did like you. He missed you. Hell, he couldn’t go a single day without thinking about the way you smiled, the way you listened to him even when he didn’t want to talk. But he had ruined it.

His chest ached as the memory replayed in his head—the look on your face when he accused you of taking Baek Jumin’s side. You didn’t yell, didn’t defend yourself. You just walked away. And now, every second felt like a punishment he deserved.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. His pride wouldn’t let him admit it, not to Namwook, not to anyone. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He didn’t hate you. He hated himself for losing you.