Seo-jin sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wall in front of her, the hours stretching out endlessly in the vast emptiness of their penthouse. She had tried to distract herself—turned on the TV, scrolled through her phone, even tried to read—but nothing could hold her attention. The silence of the place suffocated her.
Her thoughts were spiraling again.
She thought about the past—about how she had broken things off with Min-jae. At the time, it had seemed so clear. He was lazy, irresponsible, and living off his family's wealth, too immature to ever be the man she needed. But now... now everything was different. She saw the transformation he had gone through, the hard work, the discipline, the intelligence. She knew how much he had changed, but she also knew how deep the scars from their past ran.
She hadn't expected it to be this hard. She hadn't expected to feel this kind of pain. But the isolation, the loneliness, was eating at her. And it was all her fault.
The sound of the door opening snapped her from her thoughts, and Seo-jin quickly stood up, straightening her clothes, her breath catching in her throat. Min-jae had returned from the gym, as she had expected. But today, there was something different in the way he walked into the room—something dark and unsettling. His usual indifference was replaced by a tense, almost manic energy.
He stopped in front of her, his eyes cold, his lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile.
"You look pathetic," he said, his voice low but biting.
Seo-jin flinched at the words, but it wasn't the first time she had heard him speak like this. She had seen him this way before—the hurt, the anger.
But she couldn't take it anymore.
Her composure shattered, and she finally let the tears fall, the dam of her emotions bursting open. "Min-jae... I... I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how much I would hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "Please, can't we just... just... forget the past?"
Min-jae's eyes flickered with something—something she couldn't quite place—but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. He let out a bitter laugh, a sound that made her stomach twist.
"Forget the past? You want me to forget what you did to me?" His voice rose in intensity, a manic edge creeping in. "Do you even understand what you made me go through when you dumped me, Seo-jin? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself because of you? The way you treated me, the way you ripped apart everything I thought was real?"
He stepped closer, and for the first time in years, Seo-jin felt the weight of his presence. He was no longer the vulnerable, insecure man she had known. Now, he was something entirely different—something colder, sharper, more dangerous.
"I hated myself every damn day," he continued, his voice growing darker. "Your words, your rejection—everything you did to me—it broke me. You don't deserve to be forgiven. But fine, since you're so desperate, and since I'm feeling generous, I'll forgive you. But don't think for a second that means you've won. No. This trust, this tiny thread of forgiveness, is fragile. If you break it, Seo-jin, if you dare break it—your life will be more lonely than this. You'll wish for a hundred more days like this, because I will make sure you never find a way out."
Seo-jin's breath caught in her throat. She had expected anger, yes, but this was different. This was something darker, something born of deep pain and resentment.
He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the cold, heavy silence once again.
Seo-jin stood there, her body trembling, unsure of what to feel. He had forgiven her, but the price... the price was so much higher than she had anticipated. She had broken him, and now, she was the one left broken.
The door clicked shut behind him, and she sank to her knees, the weight of it all crashing down on her.
The loneliness wasn't just in the room. It was in the space between them—a chasm that neither of them knew how to cross.
And as much as she tried to convince herself that forgiveness was all she needed, the truth was that it wasn't enough. Not anymore.