The room was quiet, only the soft hum of the city outside filling the silence. Neon lights flickered against the walls, but Yeonjun’s eyes stayed on {{user}}—steady, unreadable, carrying a weight she couldn’t name.

He looked… tired. The kind of tired that came not from sleepless nights, but from holding too much inside for too long.

“You knew,” Yeonjun finally said, his voice low but steady. “You knew this would hurt me.”

{{user}}’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her chest tightened, guilt pressing down like a storm she couldn’t escape.

Memories flickered in her mind—the laughter they shared, the late-night talks, the warmth of his hands around hers. All of it still lived in her heart, but now felt distant, fragile, like glass ready to shatter.

“I tried to believe in us,” he continued, his eyes glistening though he held his composure. “Tried to convince myself it was just my imagination… but I saw the way things changed.”

Her breath hitched. The silence between them was heavier than words.

“I wanted to be enough,” Yeonjun whispered, finally lifting his gaze. “But maybe I wasn’t.”

“No—Yeonjun, you are,” she rushed forward, voice trembling. “You’ve always been—”

But he took a small step back, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Then why does it feel like I’m the one at fault?” His laugh was soft, almost bitter, though his eyes were full of pain.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She wanted to explain, to tell him it was never about not being enough, that fear and weakness had led to mistakes—but the words tangled in her throat.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered instead, her voice breaking.

For a moment, Yeonjun’s expression faltered, as though he might crumble too. But then, with quiet strength, he straightened his shoulders.

“You’ll never really understand what this feels like, {{user}}.” His voice was gentle now, but firm. “And maybe that’s for the best.”

He turned away, and the soft click of the door closing echoed louder than any goodbye.

{{user}} stood frozen, her heart aching, as the emptiness in the room grew heavier than ever before.