The night was heavy, pressing against the room in a suffocating silence. The air still carried traces of warmth, the scent of skin against skin, the memory of whispered names. The sheets lay in disarray, tangible proof of everything that had happened, yet now, the only sound was the quiet rustling of fabric as you buttoned your shirt by the window.

Jungwon sat on the edge of the bed, bare feet planted on the cold floor, his body still and tense. His dark eyes followed your every movement, searching—waiting.

Then you said it.

“I’m getting married.”

The words were soft, but they landed like a sharp blade, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

For a moment, he didn’t react.Then, finally, he let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Say that again.”

You didn’t. You only continued fastening your cuff, adjusting the fabric as if what you had just said was of no real consequence.

Jungwon stood up. In an instant, he was behind you, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist, halting your movements. His grip was firm—strong enough to keep you there, but not enough to hurt. His voice, however, was another matter.

“Yesterday, you told me you’d leave him.” His words were slow, deliberate, as if he needed to remind you. As if he needed to remind himself. “You said you’d be with me.”

You finally turned to face him, but there was no hesitation in your gaze, no flicker of doubt. Just quiet finality.

“That was yesterday.”

Jungwon’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he let go. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his expression unreadable.

“So that’s it?” His voice was lower now, rougher. “You spent the night in my arms, begged me to hold you—” He exhaled sharply, like the words themselves cut him. “And now you’re telling me it didn’t mean anything?”

A muscle in his jaw clenched. He stared at you like he was trying to decipher something, like if he looked hard enough, he’d find the lie hidden beneath your words.

“Did you ever love me?” he asked.