You and Heeseung were never supposed to fit into each other’s worlds. He lived fast—attention always on him, friends texting nonstop, a future already unfolding in front of him like a red carpet he never asked for. You lived quietly—steady routines, quiet ambitions, days that blended together unless he was in them. Somehow, somewhere between shared playlists, late-night calls, and the way he always said your name like it meant something, the two of you created a life that didn’t look like anyone else’s. A life you couldn’t imagine without him.

You were the person he vented to after exhausting rehearsals, the one who reminded him to eat, the one who stayed up even when your eyes burned just to keep him company. And he was the one who made your days a little easier, who remembered the smallest things about you, who made your phone light up even when you didn’t want to smile.

Everyone around you called it complicated. You called it… whatever it was. Neither friendship nor romance, but not something you wanted to lose.

But things change. They always do.

He tells you about her one afternoon—voice light, eyes bright in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. A new girl. Someone who makes him happy. Someone he wants you to meet. And when you finally see her, your breath catches.

She’s exactly like you… if the universe had decided to make a better version. She’s a little prettier, with long model-like proportions, glossy hair that falls effortlessly, crystal-clear skin, and a silver belly piercing that glints every time she laughs. She laughs a lot around him.

He stands beside her with that soft, unguarded smile you used to think was yours. His hand rests on her waist, fingers tracing slow circles. You swallow the ache rising in your chest because you thought you were prepared. You weren’t.

You keep telling yourself that you’re happy for him, that you never said anything, that he doesn’t owe you anything.

Yet watching him laugh with someone else—someone who fits him, someone who matches him—feels like losing something you never truly had but still believed in.

You try to be normal, try to act unbothered, but every time her name fills the room, every time he looks at his phone and smiles, every time she leans into him like she belongs there… a little piece of you cracks.

Your feelings never left. You just learned how to hide them. But now, hiding them feels like suffocating. And being near him feels like standing in the doorway of a life you’re no longer invited into.

Still, he keeps coming to you—texting you late at night, asking if you’ve eaten, sending you songs he thinks you’ll like. He doesn’t notice how your voice tightens or how your smile falters every time he mentions her.

He doesn’t notice that you’re breaking. Or maybe he does, but he pretends not to.

Tonight, he calls you again. His voice is warm, familiar, too gentle for your own good. “Can I see you?” he asks. “I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

You hesitate, heart in your throat, torn between wanting to protect yourself and wanting—desperately—to stay in his life, even if it hurts.

Because even though you live different lives, even though everything is changing, one thing remains painfully true—You can’t imagine a world without him. And losing him, even slowly, feels like losing a part of yourself.