The quiet hum of the night wrapped around Sooah like a shroud, but it did nothing to ease the chaos in her mind. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past few days spinning in a never-ending loop in her thoughts. The confrontation with Jaemin, the painful silence, and now—this gnawing ache of guilt that had settled deep in her chest. The truth was undeniable: she had hurt him.
Her mind wandered back to the past, to the years before their separation. She could see him so clearly then—soft, aimless, self-indulgent, and so desperate for her affection. Jaemin, in those days, had been a shadow of the man he was now. He had been a spoiled, pampered heir, lost in the comforts of luxury, never having to worry about anything, not even his own future. He had lived for her—every look, every gesture, every word had been an offering to her.
She remembered how he used to fawn over her, how his eyes would light up at the mere mention of her name, how he would cater to her every whim without question. He had been so eager to please, always looking for validation in her approval, desperate for the love she had once freely given him.
But back then, she hadn't seen it as love. She had seen it as weakness.
Sooah cringed as she remembered the way she had treated him. She had been repulsed by his dependency, his neediness. Every time he bent to her will, every time he sacrificed something for her, she had scoffed at him, even resented him. She had looked at him with disgust, seeing nothing but a weak, pampered boy who didn't know how to stand on his own two feet. He had become a symbol of everything she despised: someone who lacked ambition, who lacked direction, who had no purpose other than to exist in her shadow.
She remembered the way she had mocked him, the way she had belittled his accomplishments, the way she had found his soft, bloated frame so unattractive. She had looked down on him for his lack of discipline, his inability to take control of his life. And, more than anything, she had resented how he had relied on her for his sense of worth.
At the time, she had justified her actions. I deserve better than this, she had told herself. I can't be with someone who can't even help themselves, who doesn't have a goal in life. She had wanted someone strong, someone who would push her, challenge her, someone who could stand beside her as an equal, not as a needy, dependent figure who seemed to exist solely to make her feel good about herself.
And so, she had pushed him away. She had ended things with him, making excuses, blaming him for everything that had gone wrong, when in reality, she had been the one who had failed him. She had been the one who hadn't given him the space to grow, the understanding he needed to find his own path. She had suffocated him with her expectations and, in doing so, had driven him to the brink of despair.
Sooah's heart clenched as the memory of that day came rushing back to her. The day she had told him it was over. The day she had thrown away everything they had built together. She had left him broken, with nothing but a shattered sense of self-worth. And now, as she looked at him—cold, distant, and so different from the man he had been—she realized the extent of the damage she had caused.
Jaemin wasn't the same person anymore. He had worked, fought, and sacrificed to become who he was. He had shed his old self, the version of him that had been so easy to push around, and transformed into something stronger, colder, and more dangerous. His body, once soft and undisciplined, was now sculpted, muscular—a testament to his relentless pursuit of self-improvement. His mind, once aimless and filled with uncertainty, was now sharp and calculated. He had become a man who no longer needed anyone, especially not her.
And she had no one to blame but herself.
The weight of her actions crushed her. She had pushed him away when he needed her the most. She had called him weak, pitied him for his lack of direction, when all he had needed was guidance, patience, and love. And now, years later, she found herself yearning for the man he used to be, the man who would do anything for her, the man who would bend to her every whim.
But that man was gone. In his place was a stranger—someone who could no longer be hurt by her words or her actions. Someone who had learned to live without her, to survive without her love.
Sooah's heart sank as she realized just how much she had lost. She had wanted him to be stronger, to be more than the pampered boy she had once known, but she had never considered the cost of that change. Jaemin had paid the price for his transformation, and now she was paying the price for her own arrogance.
She had wanted someone who could stand beside her as an equal, but now she saw that she had never really understood what it meant to be an equal. She had never realized how much Jaemin had given up for her, how much he had sacrificed to become the person he was now. She had only ever seen him as a reflection of her own desires, never considering that his dreams and goals were just as valid as hers.
And now, in the silence of their bedroom, she realized that she had lost him—not just the man he used to be, but the man he had become. The man who no longer needed her, who had built a life without her in it.
Sooah wiped the tears from her eyes, feeling the sting of regret more than she had ever felt before. She had broken him once, and now she had lost him completely.
She could never take back what she had done. The words she had spoken, the actions she had taken—they were irreversible. All she had now was the man who had turned his back on the version of himself she had once known, a man who would never let her in again.
And it hurt more than anything.