It was past midnight when the city outside finally quieted, but your apartment remained still—too still. The hum of the heater barely masked the weight in the room. Lights were dimmed to a golden haze, the kind that clung more like a memory than an actual presence. You’d been sitting on the edge of the bed for hours, phone in hand, unread messages blinking back at you, but none of them mattered—not anymore.

The moment it happened, everything blurred. The pain had been sharp at first, and then dull, and then… nothing. Just the haunting absence of something you hadn’t even gotten to meet.

Your hand still rested gently over your stomach, fingers curled in a soft, unconscious motion, like you could somehow soothe a space that was now hollow. The blanket around your shoulders slid off your arm as your phone buzzed softly. He had seen the text. He was coming.

You hadn’t said much—just one line.

“I lost it.”

No name. No explanation. But he didn’t need it.

And when the door finally opened—quietly, no rush in his footsteps—you knew that Seungcheol already understood.