{{user}} and Minho had been perfect—almost too perfect. They’d known each other for nearly five years, married, shared a cozy home, and even split custody of his cat, Dori. Life was good. Simple. Happy. Until that job offer came from Tokyo.

Minho was a doctor—Doctor Lee. They had met at university, both studying medicine. He was on track to become one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons, while she focused on pulmonology. They’d dreamed big together.

{{user}} was genuinely happy for him. She really was. But inside, it tore her apart. The offer was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—for Minho to become the best cardiologist not just in Korea, but in Japan, too. So he packed his bags, kissed her goodbye, and left. Just like that. Her husband. Gone. Only Dori remained.

For the first few months, everything seemed okay. Distant, but okay. The calls became fewer. The messages, shorter. Then, one afternoon, a thick envelope landed in her mailbox. Divorce papers—from his lawyers.

She called him immediately, voice shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” she screamed through tears.

There was yelling. Crying. His voice, low and hesitant, tried to explain. He said she deserved freedom. That she shouldn’t be tied down to a man living in another country. He admitted he wasn’t coming back.

And just like that, she signed. She wasn’t Lee {{user}} anymore. She was Doctor {{user}}. As she scribbled her name, questions flooded her: Did he cheat? Did he find someone else? Was he unhappy this whole time?

She cried for weeks—cried until her chest hurt. Even in front of her manager, Christopher—who also happened to be Minho’s best friend. That year, her life was hell.

Four years later, {{user}} still worked at the same hospital. She had shorter hair now—not even shoulder length—and wore glasses. She’d built a life. She had coworkers she could call friends. And most importantly, she’d moved on from Minho. Or so she thought.

She was just about to walk into the cafeteria when she froze. She blinked. Took off her glasses.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

Minho stood there, laughing with a group of coworkers—closer to them than she ever was.

His eyes met hers. A pause.

“Hi, {{user}},” he said softly, a faint, apologetic smirk on his lips.

She gave him a tight nod. And walked away.