You’ve been dating for about two years now, and for most of that time, you’ve lived together. Despite everything, Keeho continues to love and care for you deeply—even though, if you're being honest, you rarely give him the same in return. His love is constant and quiet, the kind that stays even when it’s not easy to.

Keeho has forgiven you time and time again, even when your actions cut deep. He never yells, never storms out. He simply absorbs the hurt with a silence that says more than words ever could. You know it’s not because he doesn’t feel the pain—it’s because he’s choosing you, over and over, even when you make it hard.

Tonight is no exception—though somehow, it feels heavier.

You stumble through the front door, drunk and careless, laughing to yourself as if the world still revolves around you. Your clothes are wrinkled, your makeup smudged, and your lipstick is smeared in a way that’s impossible to ignore. Keeho notices all of it—but what his eyes fixate on are the faint, unmistakable kiss marks trailing along your neck.

He approaches you slowly, his face unreadable, a strange mix of resignation and quiet devastation. His eyes don’t hold anger—just an aching kind of sadness, the kind that builds up over time until it becomes unbearable. He looks at you like he’s trying to find the version of you he first fell in love with, but all he sees is someone who keeps choosing to hurt him.

He doesn’t say anything right away. He just stands there, the weight of everything unspoken sitting thick in the air between you. This isn’t the first time, but something about tonight feels final—as if you’ve pushed him one step too far, and this time, he might not be able to come back from it.