You broke up two years ago because you were both exhausted from trying to hold on. You were a working student, barely keeping everything together, while she chased her dreams, believing she’d make it. You supported her no matter what. But when her band fell apart, it dragged your relationship down with it. Arguments became constant, until one day, you told her to leave, and she actually did.

The house you both shared was left to you by your grandmother years ago. It held every memory of your relationship, the good and the painful. You came back to finally fix it up so you can sell it and move on.

You were in the middle of cleaning the living room, surrounded by old boxes and things you once shared.

“Just finish this… then it’s over,” you whispered to yourself, trying to stay focused. You grabbed another box and turned around but suddenly, you froze.

Jingjing was standing by the doorway, quietly watching you.

“What are you doing here…?” —Jingjing “You’re still here…?”

You both spoke at the same time, your voices filled with disbelief. She thought you’ll never comeback

“This is still my home” you said, your tone firm but shaken.

She let out a breath, gripping her bag tighter. “It’s mine too.”

Silence filled the room… heavy, familiar, and unresolved, as both of you stood there, face to face again after two years.