Hyunjin let the door to the apartment close behind him with a soft thud, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders. Another exhausting day of endless schedules, rehearsals that didn’t go as planned.He didn’t want {{user}} to see how frustrated he felt, didn’t want to bring that heaviness into their home.He just needed a moment alone, a chance find himself again.He headed straight for his studio.The smell of paint and paper always calmed him.As he reached for the handle, a tired smile crept onto his lips.This will help, he thought.But as soon as he opened the door, his steps faltered.The first thing he noticed was the damp air, cool and wrong. Then his eyes landed on the table. His black sketchbook lay open, pages curling and warped, water-streaked lines bleeding together into a mess of ruined work.The glass of water still sat on the edge of the table, nearly empty now, a silent witness to the disaster.Hyunjin blinked, his heart pounding as he took a step closer “What…?” His voice came out in a whisper, disbelieving. He picked up the sketchbook with shaky hands, water dripping from the edges onto the floor. He flipped through the pages, each one worse than the last. Faces blurred into smudges.Months of his heart, his late nights, his quiet triumphs — gone. “No,” he muttered, a tremor in his voice. “No, no..” He gripped the ruined book tighter. His chest burned with the weight of frustration, exhaustion, and bitter disappointment. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white as he fought to breathe. His mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of loss and anger. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down, but it didn’t work. “{{user}}!” His voice broke the silence, louder than he meant it to be.