Cha Seongmin had always been beautiful in a way that looked sculpted rather than born — cold elegance, control in every gesture, the kind of presence that commanded rooms before he even spoke. But with {{user}}, his edges softened. Always.

He waited for her in the private garden, the cherry blossoms beginning to bloom. The ring box rested inside his coat pocket, a quiet weight, a quiet promise.

She approached slowly, her hands trembling. He smiled. Softly. Like he always did for her alone.

“{{user}},” he greeted, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder. “You’re shaking. There’s nothing to be nervous ab—”

“Seongmin.” Her voice cracked. “I’m calling off the engagement.”

He froze. Completely.

The wind shifted. Petals fell. But Seojin didn’t move.

“…What?” It was almost a whisper.

“I’m… I’m going to marry someone else.”

There were many ways a chaebol heir was supposed to react. With dignity. With logic. With calm acceptance.

But Seongmin felt something rip violently inside his chest.

“You’re joking.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not.”

His jaw flexed. “{{user}}, we grew up together. You promised—”

“We were kids.”

“I was not kidding.” His voice was tight, strangled. “I spent my whole life waiting for you.”

She stepped back. That alone made him flinch.

“And I never asked you to,” she said quietly.

It was the wrong thing to say. So wrong.

Something shattered in him — visibly.

He laughed. A short, broken, humorless sound.

“You didn’t ask?” His voice rose, just slightly, but it was the most emotion anyone had ever heard from him. “You didn’t ask me to care? To stay by your side? To protect you? To love you?”

Her lips parted, startled.

“You think,” Seojin continued, breath shaking, “all these years were easy for me? That I stayed because it was convenient? I did everything for you.”

His composure cracked — hair disheveled by the wind, eyes glassy, breathing uneven.

“And you’re leaving me for some—nobody?”

“Seongmin…” She tried to speak, but he stepped back, wiping at his eyes angrily when he felt them blur.

“No. Don’t. Not now.” His voice broke completely. “This is the first time in my life I’m asking — no, begging — for something. And you…” He swallowed hard. “You’re choosing someone else.”

A single tear reached his chin. He wiped it away violently, as if ashamed.

“I would’ve given you everything,” he whispered. “Everything I am. Everything I have. And you—” He laughed again, hollow. “You never even appreciated it.”

Her throat tightened. “That’s not true—”

“It is.” His voice snapped. “You never saw me. Not really. You just assumed I’d be here forever.”

He looked at her like a man standing on the edge of a cliff. Like he already knew he was falling.

Then he took one long, unsteady breath, straightened his coat, and forced his expression into something painfully neutral.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

He turned away.

For the first time in their lives, Cha Seongmin walked away from her.

And he didn’t look back.

Not even once.