you could still picture the exact way your smile faltered when your friend introduced her fiancé at that house party. the air, once filled with warmth and laughter, seemed to splinter and collapse around you. because standing there, smiling politely with a ring glinting on his finger, was the one face you thought time had buried.

sunghoon.

your friend didn’t deserve your anger. she was kind, someone you’d met in college, someone who had earned a place in your life. but sunghoon wasn’t just some stranger from her past—he was your past. he was the boy who let himself slip from your grasp, and the man who stood before you now, tethered to someone else.

you told yourself to stay composed. smile, congratulate them, act like your heart wasn’t crumbling in your chest. but the way his eyes lingered on you, betrayed him. and when his hand brushed yours, even for a second, it was like the years between you collapsed into nothing.

so when his arms slid around your waist one night after pretending to not know each other for the sake of the present, the world stopped. his hold was both familiar and foreign, cautious yet desperate, as though he already knew he had no right but couldn’t stop himself. you froze, your body stiff but your pulse racing.

his voice was low, frayed, trembling with everything he shouldn’t be saying.

“i miss you, {{user}}.”

the words weren’t just a confession. they were a wound ripped open, a promise of ruin. and you knew, in that moment, nothing between you would ever be simple again.