Hanni's POV

Today's weather was gloomy—fitting, and ironic. The sky was a muted gray, heavy with clouds that felt like they carried the same weight as my heart. Everything below me, the streets, the buildings, the people moving through their lives, blurred into the rain, much like my thoughts.

Sitting by this window sill usually calms me, but not today. Today, the heaviness is too much. The quiet of the apartment presses down on me. The little patters of rain against the glass are the only sound, but it feels like even the sky is crying, just like how I feel like crying too.

It hurts, this weight on my heart. It feels like bricks—stacked one by one, pressing down, crushing me from the inside. I can't breathe sometimes, but still, I sit here. Waiting. Hoping. Expecting.

Seoul is blurry through the rain now. I can't make out the people walking below, and maybe that's a relief for me. I don't want to see anyone familiar. Don't want to risk seeing someone who might remind me of him. I look at the city, but my mind drifts back to my phone. My hands twitch, itching to check it.

It's been days. Days of silence. Days without his messages, without his voice. I used to hear that familiar ringtone every morning, every night. Now, nothing. Just silence. God, I haven't heard from him since... since the breakup. That shit hurts.

I shake my head slightly, trying to stop the thoughts from overwhelming me. But they don't stop. I press the power button on my phone again and again. The screen lights up, then fades. Lights up, then fades. Still nothing. It's always nothing. My fingers are restless, my heart anxious. I couldn't stop myself from checking my phone several times now. Why did it end so quickly? Why did it have to end like this?

I swallow the thought, knowing deep down—I will never love someone like I loved Changkyun. Never.

Funny. After everything, why am I still thinking of him? He's the one who chose to end it. He's the one who walked away. It seems like he was so willing to get rid of me after everything I did for him. I waited for him. Waited for him too long. And now... now I'm left here in pieces.

It's pathetic. I know it is. But I can't stop. I can't stop missing him. Can't stop thinking about him. Every memory of him, of us, hurts me with every ounce of my being. I remember the beginning, how we met. Introduced by a friend through work. He seemed perfect. I should've seen it coming, shouldn't I?

I always thought he loved me. Turns out he was just a distant prick. I hate how much I loved him. I hate how I miss him. I hate how I'm sitting here, waiting for him to call, checking my phone every single day like an idiot.

Why did you leave me, Changkyun? Why?

The sound of the rain is steady, calming. But my mind isn't. It's spiraling, replaying the last words we spoke, the argument, the things left unsaid. I can still hear him. I can still feel the weight of that night. The scent of him still lingers here. His scent. It's torture.

Flashback

I was sitting in the living room, waiting for Changkyun to come home. It was past midnight—he never comes home this late. My heart raced with a fear I couldn't shake. The door opened, the sound echoing in my mind, too harsh, too loud.

"Babe, I'm home." His voice was distant, almost muffled. I rushed to him, a wave of relief crashing over me, but something felt off. "You're home." Then the smell hit me—sharp, unfamiliar. My stomach twisted.

"You've been drinking... and smoking?" The words barely left my lips before panic set in. "When did that start?" He looked disheveled, tired. His eyes were red, and my heart sank further. "I told you. I was with the boys. I told you this. You always forget." His words cut deep, and I felt small, like I'd done something wrong. "I... I didn't remember. I'm sorry." Why was I apologizing? My head spun.

His laugh felt bitter, and I couldn't wrap my mind around it. "You never remember." My heart raced, confusion bubbling up inside me. "I've been busy. Work's been overwhelming. I can't always keep track of everything." But even as I said it, I felt the distance growing.

"Work. You care more about work than us." His voice was sharper now, and I could feel the anger radiating from him. "Why are you being like this?" My voice cracked, desperation creeping in. He showed me his phone, something about messages, but I barely looked at it.

"You don't even care... you're not even trying anymore." Those words echoed in my mind, and I felt the walls closing in. "I was worried... I didn't see your texts..." I was grasping at straws, trying to hold on to something solid. His voice started to sound hollow, the weight of his words sinking in. "You don't listen... you don't care... I'm tired of this."

There was silence—suffocating silence.

I felt the cold creeping into my bones. "Changkyun, I care. I do. Please, don't do this." My voice trembled, but the emptiness between us felt insurmountable. His face was a blur now, and I struggled to see the hurt in his eyes. "I can't keep pretending. We're broken." Those words shattered something inside me.

Everything else felt like a fog. "No... we can fix this. I love you. We can fix this." I stepped closer, reaching out, but the distance only grew.

"I'm sorry, Hanni. We're over."

And just like that, he turned away. The door closed—no, it slammed. My heart dropped. I banged on it, screaming for him to stay, but all I heard was silence. I slid down the wall, sobbing. How did we get here? How did this happen to us?

Flashback End

That memory was so vivid, it haunted me. I still couldn't believe Changkyun would choose to break up. Three years together, gone in an instant. Why did it end so suddenly? How did it end like that? We were never like this. We were happy once. I could still hear his laughter in this very apartment.

Every piece of the room sparked memories that suppressed deep inside me. As each moment rushed my mind like a waterfall, I couldn't even hold my tears back anymore and cried my heart out. The rain droplets pattering against the window only caused me to cry harder. It's such a pain living through this moment, again and again. I missed him too much, and yet, I can't understand why he chose this.

Changkyun POV

The flashing neon lights pulsed through the haze of the club, blending with the relentless thumping of the bass. It was almost suffocating—the noise, the colors, and the alcohol coursing through me—but still, none of it drowned her out. Kim Hanni.

Five days. Five days since we'd broken up, and the weight of it clung to me like a bad dream that wouldn't fade. I downed my drink, but it only deepened the ache in my chest, that gnawing sensation of regret. Her face, her voice, her laugh—everything haunted me, no matter how much I drank. Even the small things, like the way she'd always pull her hair into a messy bun when she was stressed, seemed lodged in my mind. I tried to push it away, but every thought circled back to her, to what we used to be.

I glanced around the crowded club, people laughing and dancing as if the world wasn't collapsing around them. I envied them. I used to be like that—carefree, unburdened by love and heartbreak. But now? Now I was just another guy lost in his own head, trying to drown his sorrows.

I'm stuck in this loop of remembering Hanni constantly. Everyday for the last 5 days, Hanni occupies my thoughts and consumes my soul whole. I couldn't escape her. Wherever I go, every memory of her stings more than the last.

The bartender gave me another cup, I stared at it straight, before grasping it and holding onto it tightly till my knuckles turned white. My mind goes back to the night of the argument, the night I broke her heart. I couldn't stop thinking about the way she looked at me, her voice breaking and her soul shattered because of me.

The music surrounding me drifted my mind back to that night.

Flashback

It was late. Too late. I stood outside our apartment, hesitating before finally pushing the door open. I knew what was waiting inside—her questions, her disappointment, her confusion. She never understood. Not anymore.

"Babe, I'm home!" I called out, but the words felt hollow, swallowed by the heavy atmosphere. I caught a glimpse of Hanni as she approached, her smile faltering the moment she caught a whiff of the alcohol on my breath.

"You've been drinking... and smoking?" Her words hit me hard, like a slap. I could feel her disappointment, and it stung more than I wanted to admit.

"Didn't I tell you I was with the boys? You always forget these things," I snapped, defensive. A part of me wanted to take it back, to be gentler, but the weight of everything pressed down on me.

"I... I didn't remember. I'm sorry." She looked small, and the guilt welled up inside me. I knew I shouldn't lash out, but the frustration bubbled over.

"Like clockwork, you never do." Her apologetic tone stung more than I expected. How did we get to this point? I wanted to reach out, but something held me back.

"I've been busy. Work's been overwhelming," she replied, and I knew she was stressed, but it felt like her work had taken priority over everything else.

"You care more about work than us." The accusation slipped out before I could filter it. A part of me wished I could take it back, but the hurt was real.

"Why are you being like this?" I saw the confusion in her eyes, cutting deeper than I expected.

"I texted you. You read it, and you didn't reply!" I pulled out my phone, showing her the messages. It felt desperate, but I needed her to understand.

"I didn't see your texts..." Her voice quivered, and I could feel her heart breaking, mirroring my own pain.

"You expect me to text you every hour? It's like I'm invisible to you!" I couldn't believe I was saying these things, but the frustration felt insurmountable.

"I care! Please, don't do this." Her desperation tugged at my heart. I wanted to comfort her, to take back the words spilling out of my mouth.

"I can't keep pretending we're okay. We're not. I don't see a way forward anymore." My heart raced as I saw her face fall, regret flooding in. This wasn't how I wanted things to end.

"No... we can fix this. I love you." Her words felt like a lifeline, but I knew I couldn't hold on. We'd tried too many times.

"I'm sorry, Hanni. We're over." Each word felt like a weight crashing down. I turned away, wishing I could rewind time, wishing I had fought for us differently.

The door closed behind me with a finality that reverberated in my chest. Guilt washed over me as I stepped into the emptiness, haunted by what we once had.

I wanted things to be different. I wished I had handled it better, shown more patience, more love. But now, all that remained was the echo of our fading connection, a reminder of what slipped through my fingers.

Present Day

I blinked, snapping back to the present. The club was still pounding with noise, the flashing lights blurring together in a dizzying array of colors. I looked down at the drink in my hand, now warm and untouched. The memory of that night clung to me, sharper than any of the alcohol burning in my veins. I thought I could forget. I thought I could drink her away, lose myself in the music, the crowd, the chaos. But no matter how hard I tried, Hanni was still there—woven into every thought, every heartbeat.

Her face, her voice, the way she looked at me that night... I couldn't escape it. I couldn't escape her.

Hanni POV

Days blurred into one another, each one identical to the last, like the chapters of a book she had read a thousand times but never finished. Morning arrived with the sharp, unforgiving light through her blinds, and yet she always felt shrouded in darkness. It was the same routine every day: wake up, go to work, come home, and repeat. But each step she took seemed weighted with memories of him, like footprints she couldn't escape.

Her apartment felt emptier now, even though nothing had changed. The walls were the same pale gray, her plants still sat by the window, and her bookshelf was still overflowing with novels and old photographs. But it was as if all the life had been sucked out of the place. Or maybe, all the life had been sucked out of her.

Every morning, she found herself standing at the sink, staring at the coffee cup he used to drink from. She hadn't been able to throw it away or even move it to the back of the cupboard. It sat there, a small, tangible reminder of him—one she hated herself for clinging to. Sometimes, she would run her fingers along the rim of the cup, wondering if his lips had once touched the same spot. The thought was bittersweet, and it twisted something deep inside her.

On her way to work, she passed the coffee shop they used to frequent. She could still hear his laugh echoing in the small corner booth, seeing the way his eyes crinkled at the corners whenever he made some ridiculous joke. She walked past it every day, avoiding the temptation to look inside, afraid that it would hurt too much to see it exactly the way they'd left it. A place frozen in time, while everything else kept moving forward—everything except her.

The park wasn't much better. They used to take long walks there on weekends, hands intertwined, the world reduced to just the two of them. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to walk through it. It was too full of memories. The same bench where they'd once sat for hours, the same path where he'd kissed her under the soft glow of the streetlamps—it all felt haunted, as if his presence still lingered there, even though he was long gone.

And the rain. God, the rain. It used to feel refreshing, calming. Now, it was just another reminder of him. They loved walking in the rain, laughing as the drops soaked through their clothes, their feet splashing through puddles. Now, the sound of rain against her window filled her with an overwhelming sense of loss. It made her want to scream, to beg for it to stop—because the rain was no longer just rain. It was him. And she couldn't handle that.

At night, her mind was no kinder. Sleep was meant to be an escape, but for Hanni, it was another battlefield. The dreams came in waves—sometimes soft, lulling her into a false sense of comfort. In those dreams, they were happy again, lying in bed and talking until the early hours of the morning. She could feel the warmth of his body beside hers, hear the low rumble of his voice as they shared stories, hopes, and dreams. Those were the nights when she would wake up clutching the sheets, the phantom of his touch still lingering on her skin. Those mornings were the worst because, for a few blissful moments, she would forget that he was gone. It was as if he was still there, waiting for her.

But other nights, the dreams were nightmares. In those, he would leave her. She would chase after him, calling his name, but he never looked back. He would disappear into the dark, his silhouette fading into nothingness, and no matter how fast she ran, she could never reach him. She'd wake up, heart pounding, with tears streaming down her face, the emptiness beside her in bed a harsh reminder of how alone she was.

She was trapped. Trapped in this endless cycle of memories and pain. She couldn't forget him—he was etched into her soul. But she couldn't move on either. How could she, when every corner of her life was a reminder of him? Every small detail of her day was stained with the ghost of what they once had.

There were moments, fleeting as they were, when she wondered if she'd ever heal. If time would eventually dull the sharpness of the pain. People always said that it got better, that heartbreak faded with time. But Hanni wasn't sure she believed them. How could it? How could something that had been such an integral part of her just disappear? How could she ever truly forget him, when everything around her—the air, the rain, the silence—seemed to whisper his name?

She didn't know how to move forward. But she did know that she couldn't keep living like this—trapped in a past that no longer existed, haunted by a love that had shattered. Something had to give. Either she had to find a way to let go, or the weight of it all would eventually break her.

She didn't know which road to take, her heart felt trapped, wishing for things to be different. But would Changkyun ever want her again? Would he listen to her explain? Would he choose her again? Her mind raced with thoughts she wanted to ask him aloud for but couldn't due to the fact he wasn't there anymore, reminding her once again that he's no longer in her life.

Changkyun POV

The cold air bit at his skin as Changkyun stepped out of the crowded club. The thrum of the bass inside still echoed in his chest, but out here, the world felt quieter, lonelier. He leaned against the rough brick wall, pulling a cigarette from the pack he had shoved deep into his pocket. He never used to smoke—Hanni hated the smell of cigarettes, used to wrinkle her nose whenever they passed someone puffing on the street.

But now, it felt like the only thing that dulled the edge of his thoughts.

The cigarette flared to life as he lit it, the smoke curling around his face. He took a long drag, exhaling slowly, watching the tendrils disappear into the night. His hand trembled slightly as he held the cigarette between his fingers, a habit he hadn't quite mastered. The nicotine burned his lungs, but it wasn't enough to burn away the guilt.

God, the guilt.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to stare at the inky sky, the stars barely visible through the haze of the city lights. It reminded him of the nights he used to spend with her, lying in bed, their fingers intertwined, talking about everything and nothing. She used to tease him relentlessly, laughing when his face betrayed him every time he tried to tell a white lie. Hanni always knew. She could always see right through him.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He was such a hypocrite now.

How had it come to this? He used to pride himself on being honest, on never keeping things from her. But somewhere along the way, things got messy. Somewhere along the way, the little things that Hanni did to him went ignored and he kept his hurt sealed deep within his heart, swearing that it shouldn't come to light. He hid his hurt, when Hanni slowly ignored him, asked less about him and his day, focused more on her work. He kept his facade for 9 months but keeping them all bottled up—was the cause of their demise.

He swore he wanted to shield her from his feelings due to how weak he felt, how small he felt around her. But despite the mess he was, he became the very thing he promised not to be.

A liar.

He took another drag of the cigarette, the smoke filling the hollow ache in his chest for a fleeting moment. He had convinced himself that walking away was the right thing to do, that by leaving, he was sparing her from the worst parts of him. He thought he was doing her a favor, that she'd be better off without him dragging her down.

But the truth was, he wasn't protecting her. He was protecting himself.

Everything Hanni had done to damage his heart made him terrified of how Hanni would see him as–broken, sad and helpless. He was helpless by the fact he held onto some invisible string he wished to keep together, wishing it'd stay that way and continue to strengthen with time. But days, weeks, months pass, still it broke beyond repair. Hanni did the very thing she promised not to do–Being distracted.

The little things that she did, ignoring him, canceling their dates, focusing on work, forgetting the slightest things he mentions and talks about, going out with friends more than him–those things gradually built up to become the frustration and decision he chose in order to protect himself. He hated that he had to leave her, but what else is another choice? He couldn't take it anymore. Leaving had seemed like the only way to avoid hurting her more. But in the end, all he had done was tear them both apart.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn't look at it. He already knew who it wasn't. Hanni hadn't texted him in weeks, and he couldn't blame her. She probably hated him now. Maybe she was happier without him. Maybe she had moved on, found someone who she could spend her attention on.

But deep down, Changkyun knew better. He knew that neither of them was healing. The bond they had shared wasn't something that could be broken easily. And the worst part was, he had shattered it—he had ripped them apart with his own hands. The guilt twisted in his gut like a knife.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette, his mind drifting back to the night they had fought. It was the last time they had been together, the night everything had fallen apart. He had been angry, defensive, and scared. Scared of the future, scared of losing her, scared of her seeing him for what he really was.

He was scared that Hanni wouldn't accept him again, just like the times she hadn't accepted him when she was consumed with work. He wished for things to be different but he couldn't carry the burden that ate and tore his heart like an open wound. Which cause him to pick a choice he hated making, but felt was necessary.

He had walked away.

Now, standing alone in the alley behind the club, he wished he could go back. He wished he could take it all back—the words, the fight, the decision to leave. But it was too late. He had made his choice, and now they were both paying the price.

He took another drag from the cigarette, the smoke no longer comforting, just bitter. He could still feel the weight of her absence pressing down on him, suffocating him. Every corner of his life felt empty without her in it. The world had lost its color, its warmth, and he knew it wasn't just him. She was feeling it too. He could see it in the way she avoided him, in the hollow look in her eyes the last time they had crossed paths.

Neither of them was healing. They were both stuck, trapped in this limbo between what they used to be and what they had become.

Changkyun crushed the cigarette under his foot, watching the embers die out. He didn't know how to fix this, didn't know if it was even possible to go back. But one thing was clear—running away hadn't solved anything. It had only left him with more regrets.

And now, as the cold air bit into his skin, he realized something else: he missed her. He missed her so much it hurt. The numbness he had been chasing, the escape he had been looking for—it was all a lie. Because no matter how far he tried to run, no matter how many cigarettes he smoked, no matter how many nights he spent in crowded clubs surrounded by strangers, it would never be enough to erase her from his mind.

Hanni was still there, imprinted on every part of him. And he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to let her go. But he was also afraid of being treated the same way like Hanni had done for the last 9 months.

Hanni's POV

Hanni lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The darkness of the room pressed in on her, thick and suffocating. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories, fragments of laughter and love that seemed to taunt her with their very existence. The silence of the night only made the ache of loneliness more pronounced.

She reached for her phone, which lay on the nightstand beside her. The glow of the screen illuminated her face as she unlocked it, scrolling through her contacts. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Changkyun's name. It had been weeks since they last spoke, and she had been doing her best to keep her distance, to avoid the pain of opening old wounds.

Yet, the urge to reach out was undeniable. Her fingers hovered over the screen as she started typing a message. The words "I miss you" came easily, almost like a reflex. But as she stared at the message, her throat tightened. She could almost hear the echo of their last argument, the cold silence that followed, and the finality of their goodbye.

The doubts crept in. Was it worth reopening the wounds? Could she handle the heartbreak of his response—or worse, his silence? She thought of how he used to be her safe place, her comfort. Now, he was the source of her deepest sorrow. The decision felt almost unbearable.

Her thumb hovered over the "Send" button, but her resolve crumbled. With a sigh, she deleted the message, her heart heavy. The thought of seeing those words go through, and possibly having to deal with the consequences, was too much to bear. She locked her phone and set it back on the nightstand, her hand lingering over it as if hoping it might somehow bring him back to her without her having to make the first move.

Changkyun's POV

In his car, Changkyun sat with the engine idling. The alcohol had blurred his thoughts, and the dim light of the streetlamp illuminated the sadness etched on his face. He had been driving aimlessly, trying to escape the whirlwind of regret and self-loathing that had been consuming him.

He pulled out his phone, the cool metal of the device comforting against his palm. His eyes were drawn to her contact name, the one that seemed to mock him with its presence. He had been scrolling through their old texts for what felt like hours, each message a painful reminder of what he had lost. He could almost hear her laughter in his mind, a sound he had once cherished and now longed for with an almost desperate intensity.

His thumb hovered over her contact name, shaking slightly. The words he wanted to say were so clear in his mind: "I'm sorry. I regret everything. I still love you." But fear and shame held him back. What if she had moved on? What if she hated him for the way he had walked out? The thought of her seeing those messages and feeling any more pain was unbearable.

The weight of his regret was crushing. He knew that calling or texting her now wouldn't erase the past or fix what had been broken. He feared that reaching out would only bring more hurt, that it was too late to mend what he had destroyed.

He clenched his phone in his hand, the temptation to reach out almost too much to resist. His mind was filled with the image of her—her face, her voice, the way she used to look at him with such love and trust. He wanted to tell her everything, but he was paralyzed by the fear of rejection and the reality of what he had done.

After a long pause, he set the phone down beside him, feeling the weight of his decision settle like a stone in his chest. The phone lay there, a symbol of his unresolved feelings and unspoken words, while the reality of their separation sank in. He started the engine, the sound harsh in the quiet night. As he drove away, the emptiness of his car seemed to echo the emptiness in his heart.

Hanni's POV

Hanni sits by the window, the rain cascading down the glass in a steady rhythm. The world outside is a blur of gray, mirroring the numbness that has settled over her. She watches the raindrops race each other down the windowpane, each one carrying with it a memory, a feeling, a fragment of her past with Changkyun.

The emptiness of her room reflects the emptiness in her heart. She reaches for the framed photo of them, now gathering dust on the shelf, and her fingers trace the outline of their smiling faces. It feels like a lifetime ago, a different world where everything seemed possible. The weight of her unspoken words, the love she still harbors, feels like an invisible chain pulling her back to moments of happiness that now seem so distant.

She wishes she could turn back time, to undo the hurt and regret that led them to this point. But the cycle of memories plays on, relentless and unforgiving. Each little reminder—a song, a place, even the scent of rain—brings back the echoes of their past. She closes her eyes, hoping for respite from the relentless loop, but finds no relief. The memories are both a comfort and a torment, replaying over and over, reminding her of what was lost and what remains unspoken.

Changkyun's POV

Changkyun walks through the empty streets, the city quiet in the early hours of the morning. The rain has ceased, leaving behind a fresh, clean scent that contrasts sharply with the heaviness in his chest. His footsteps echo in the silence, a testament to his isolation. Each step feels like an attempt to escape the loop of regret that traps him.

As he passes familiar landmarks—places that once held meaning now just hollow reminders—he feels the weight of his choices. The decision to leave her, the words left unsaid, and the pain of watching her walk away haunt him relentlessly. He wonders if she's out there, looking at the rain just like he is, feeling the same ache, the same longing.

He wants to break free from the cycle of memories, to find peace and closure, but the echoes of their past keep dragging him back. The images of her face, their laughter, the warmth of their shared moments replay in his mind like a broken record. He feels trapped in a loop of his own making, unable to escape the regret and loneliness that have become his constant companions.