You told him in passing, between bites of a sandwich the next afternoon.

“Oh, by the way… I kissed someone last night.”

Like it meant nothing. Like it was just another bullet point in a casual recap of your evening.

Kimi’s hand paused midair, holding his phone. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at you — just nodded once.

“Cool.”

You thought he meant it. You moved on.

It’s only later that you noticed: your texts left on read. The half-written reply he never sent. The way your photo disappeared from his story highlights. Small things. Petty things. But not random.

You call. He doesn’t pick up.

The next day, he’s colder. Not cruel, but precise. Efficient in his words. He asks how your day was with a smile, but his eyes don’t stay on you. They flick to his screen, to the door, to anywhere but your face.

It hits you slowly — painfully — that what felt like nothing to you meant something to him.

And now there’s a gap.

One you created with five careless words and a shrug. He never told you how he felt. You never asked.

But you kissed someone else. And now he’s showing you exactly what it feels like to lose a love you never realized you had.