You weren’t trying to ghost him. Not really.

You’d just been busy. Tired. Overwhelmed. Every time Sunghoon’s name lit up your phone, you told yourself you’d reply later—when your head was clearer, when you could give him more than a one-word answer. But “later” kept stretching into days, and days into weeks.

Now it was different.

Your messages sat on delivered. Not read. Not replied to. The little photo icon of his profile was still there, but the space between you felt bigger than it ever had when you were silent.

You sent another text. Can we talk? No answer.

You saw him that night across the café, headphones around his neck, scrolling his phone like you didn’t even exist. When your eyes met, his stayed cold—long enough to make sure you knew he saw you. Then he looked away.