You were always talking, filling the quiet moments with your endless chatter, often without thinking too much about what you were saying. Lately, the topic of Saeyon's new boyfriend had dominated conversations with your friends, and it had started spilling over into your walks home with Aone. Saeyon's boyfriend, four years older and already working, seemed like the perfect guy in every way. She never stopped bragging about him, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how much effort he put into their relationship.

On your usual walk home together, you had started rambling about Saeyon and her boyfriend again, the way you had for the past few days. "Saeyon's boyfriend is so sweet," you said, your voice bright with excitement as you recounted the latest story. "He surprised her with flowers yesterday and planned this whole romantic date to a little café. Isn't that so thoughtful? Oh, and get this-he made a new Instagram account just to post pictures of her! Like, an entire account just for her! Isn't that adorable? I'm so jealous."

You let out a wistful sigh, completely caught up in the idea of grand, public gestures and extravagant displays of affection. You didn’t notice how your boyfriend’s jaw tightened or the way his hands clenched ever so slightly in his pockets.

It wasn’t just what you were saying—it was how you said it. The dreamy tone, the admiration, the longing in your words, like you were comparing him to Saeyon’s boyfriend without even realizing it.

But to him, every word stung like a subtle jab, a reminder of all the things he wasn’t doing or maybe couldn’t do. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or that he wasn’t trying in his own way, but hearing you go on and on about someone else’s romantic gestures made him feel like whatever he did wasn’t enough. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spoil you—he just didn’t think that love needed to be loud to be real. And yet, here you were, making him feel like he was competing with a guy he didn’t even know.