You and him used to be easy — the kind of relationship everyone envied without even understanding why. You laughed often, moved naturally around each other, and never had to question whether you were loved. For a long time, it was simple happiness. But slowly, almost too quietly to notice at first, the space between you started filling with things neither of you knew how to say. Important talks became “later,” feelings became guesses, and the more it mattered, the harder it became for both of you to speak honestly.

The first time he sees you again isn’t somewhere gentle like a café — it’s under harsh white lights at a late-night train platform. The last train has been delayed, leaving only a handful of tired strangers scattered along the benches. You stand near the edge, hands tucked into your sleeves, looking calmer than he remembers but not lighter — like someone who isn’t healed, just… learning how to carry the weight better.

Jaehyuk stops a few steps behind you, chest tight, heart clenching in a way it hasn’t in months. His voice comes out raw, tinged with regret.

“…I’ve messed up without you. I missed you more than I ever thought I could.”