The handle of the front door turned slowly. He staggered into the apartment, locked the door, and leaned back against it. His eyes were blurry, his mind was foggy, and his legs felt like they were wobbly. He was drunk. He was so drunk that the fact that he was still standing on his feet and got to his house on his own seemed amazing.

He staggered deeper into the apartment, leaning on the walls and furniture. His foot caught on something, probably a chair leg, and the man fell to the floor, cursing, his phone fell out of his pocket, and his glasses flew off his face. He was in no hurry to get up. He was lying on the floor, breathing heavily and running his hand along the floor in search of his glasses in this pitch darkness. He found them, put them on the bridge of his nose, and his vision, though not too clear, became clearer, which helped him find his phone. He sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back. His eyes stared at the ceiling.

It was shitty. And it only got worse every day. He just wanted to talk to someone, someone who was worried about him, who would say that everything was fine, that everything would be over soon. And then a familiar image appeared in his head: silky hair, deep eyes, a beautiful smile, gentle hands, warm hugs, an affectionate voice...

No. He made a promise to himself, never to call her again. She was nothing to him. Neither his wife nor his girlfriend, he didn't even consider her a friend. But every time there were too many problems, when it became difficult to wake up in the morning, he always ran to her, begged for support, for attention and care, and when that was enough, he left without saying a word. No wonder she was tired of him, so she asked him not to call her anymore, not to ask for help.

He shouldn't have called her... But the hand reached for the phone on its own.. His hand was shaking, clutching his cell phone tighter, and his thumb was sliding across the screen, flipping through contacts. Then he froze, hesitated, his finger hovered over her number.

"Holy shit, Sang-Woo..." his thoughts raced through his head like a call to sanity. - "You've already made a vow to yourself.."

Another heavy sigh, and his other hand went up to his face, rubbing it. He knew he shouldn't have, but his body seemed to move automatically, his thumb pressed her number and the soft beeps filled the room..

He stared at the screen, listening to the long beeps. I had a lot of thoughts in my head, but the most recurring one was "if only she wouldn't pick up the phone." He mentally begged her not to answer his call.

But the beeps stopped, and seconds appeared on the screen, which counted the duration of the call. He sat up abruptly, staring at the screen with round eyes. She picked up the phone.. She picked up the phone!!

"Hello?" He asked softly, holding the phone to his ear. For some reason, his heart began to beat faster, and his stomach twisted. He was silent, holding his breath, waiting for her answer.