Ji-Ho had insisted this beach vacation would be good for everyone—a much-needed break from the constant tension. When he invited everyone, I had hesitated, knowing the mix of people was potentially volatile. But part of me hoped this would be an opportunity to find some clarity, maybe even closure.
The villa he rented was stunning, with the beach stretching out just steps from the back deck. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was usually calming, but today, it only added to the storm brewing inside me. As we all settled in, I found myself distracted by the undercurrent of unresolved issues.
Jun was unusually quiet, sticking close to Seong, but every now and then, his gaze would flicker to me. Seong, always observant, noticed, but said nothing. Nathan, as charming as ever, floated around making light conversation, but I could feel his protectiveness towards me after everything that had happened. And then there was Jun's ex, the wildcard I hadn't anticipated.
I couldn't shake the knot of anxiety forming in my chest.
---
The first day of the trip passed uneventfully. We went out to dinner, laughed over drinks, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe this could work—maybe we could all coexist without the baggage of the past weighing us down.
But by the second night, things began to unravel.
The alcohol had started to flow more freely, and I could sense Jun's mood shifting. His ex, always lingering in the background, began to find more opportunities to be near him, and every time I saw them together, it felt like a small punch to the gut.
At one point during the night, I went to the patio to get some fresh air, leaving the others inside. The sound of muffled voices and laughter drifted through the open door, but I couldn't join in. I just couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.
That's when I saw them.
Through the sliding glass door, Jun stood close to his ex, the two of them laughing softly. My heart clenched, and I stepped forward, peeking around the corner. What I saw next made my stomach drop—Jun, clearly tipsy, leaning in and kissing his ex. It wasn't long, and his ex didn't pull away.
I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I stumbled back, my breath hitching in my throat. The sight of them together, even if it was just a drunken mistake, felt like a betrayal. All the insecurities I'd been pushing down came flooding to the surface.
I didn't confront him. I couldn't.
Instead, I slipped away quietly, retreating to the room Ji-Ho had assigned to me. I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it as tears finally came. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me, and I felt suffocated by everything—by the weight of the situation with Jun and Seong, by the confusion and exhaustion of constantly wondering if I even fit into their lives.
I sobbed into my pillow, feeling utterly defeated. How could I keep going like this? How could I be part of something so complicated and painful?
---
Sometime later, the door creaked open. I sat up, wiping my eyes just as Jun stumbled into the room, still clearly tipsy.
"Censia," he mumbled, his voice thick with alcohol. His eyes were glassy, but the familiar warmth of his gaze softened when they landed on me. "I didn't mean... what you saw... I wasn't thinking."
"Jun, please, I can't do this right now," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.
He staggered forward, his fingers brushing against my arm as he knelt beside the bed. "I need you, Censia. You can't leave me... not you." There was desperation in his voice, but it felt more like the liquor talking than anything else.
I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let go. His lips found mine, and for a moment, I was lost in the taste of him, in the familiar pull of his touch. I didn't want to give in, but I was so tired—tired of fighting, tired of resisting the feelings that kept pulling me back to him.
"Jun," I whispered against his lips, my breath shaky as he leaned further into me.
He kissed me again, more insistently this time. His hands moved over my body, and for a second, I let myself get lost in the heat of the moment. But as his hands tightened around my waist, the weight of everything came crashing back down.
"No," I said softly, finally managing to pull away from him. "Not like this."
Jun blinked at me, confused. His grip loosened, and he fell back onto the bed beside me, sighing deeply. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Everything's falling apart."
I looked at him, my heart heavy with sadness. "Maybe it's time to let go, Jun. Maybe we're all holding on to something that's already broken."
For the first time since we had arrived at the beach, I saw something shift in his expression. His drunken haze seemed to lift for a moment, and he stared at me as if he finally understood the depth of my pain.
---
The next morning, the house was eerily quiet. I had made my decision. I couldn't stay tangled in this web any longer—it was destroying me.
I found Jun and Seong sitting together on the deck, the morning sun casting long shadows over their faces. I could tell they'd both been awake for hours, waiting for me.
"I can't do this anymore," I said, my voice steady even though I felt like my heart was breaking. "I think we need to break up."
Both of them looked at me, shock and disbelief written across their faces. Seong was the first to speak. "Censia... no, please. We can fix this. We love you."
Jun's eyes were wide with panic. "You can't leave us. I made a mistake, but please don't go."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. "I'm tired, Jun. I'm tired of always being the one trying to fit into something that feels so impossible. You both have each other, and I've just been trying to hold on."
Seong stood and reached for me, his expression pleading. "We'll do anything to make this work."
I stepped back, shaking my head. "I think you both need to figure out what you want without me in the middle."
They didn't say anything for a long time, and the silence stretched out like the distance I needed to put between us.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, and with that, I turned and walked away.
I didn't look back.