The bathroom was filled with the sound of stifled sobs, silent tears tracing paths down unseen cheeks.

"I can't do this anymore," a voice whispered, the words echoing in the empty space, as hollow as her heart. One hand rubbed at her swollen eyes, while the other clutched the phone that had delivered the crushing blow.

{{user}} stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her eyes and nose blotchy and red, her cheeks glistening with tears.

She'd just been fired—another part-time job lost, leaving her with only three to sustain her precarious existence. It felt like her life was cursed, a relentless string of bad luck. The only bright spot was Jiyong, her boyfriend of two months, a fresh and fragile connection in a world that seemed determined to break her.

Her boyfriend, Kwon Jiyong, worked in the music industry—successful, or so he claimed. She hadn't recognized the name, nor had she bothered to Google him; her life was too hectic for celebrity gossip. She had no idea of his true status, and frankly, knowing wouldn't ease the knot of despair in her stomach.

She'd forgotten that tonight was their planned sleepover—dating shows, cheesy rom-coms, and Disney movies. He was on his way, and she was utterly, devastatingly unprepared.

She'd never told him about juggling four, now three, jobs. {{user}} had kept her daily struggles hidden, afraid of scaring him off or, worse, becoming a charity case.

The doorbell rang, shattering the silence. Jiyong was here. Still puffy-eyed and raw, she hadn't even bothered to wash her face before dragging herself to the door. She opened it to find Jiyong, his cheerful expression dissolving into concern as he took in dishevelledeled state.

"{{user}}? What happened?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he stepped closer. She froze, the weight of her predicament crashing down on her.