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"Why do we have to end everything when we can stay together?"
"For Pete's sake- Why can't you just think about it from my point of view?"
"I am! I am thinking about you, I am thinking about us! Why can't you understand that I am trying my best to understand you?"
"I just... I- I am sorry, we have to end it all. We can't continue doing this! Every passing day, our relationship turns into plain toxic."
"Why? What about the future we dreamt of together? What about us?"
"I'm sorry, I have to go."
I woke up panting, sweat dripping down my forehead. My hand shot out for the glass of water on my side table, and I gulped it down quickly. When I set it back, I covered my face with both hands and let out a deep sigh.
"Every passing day, our relationship turns into plain toxic."
She was right. I wasn't blind to it. The nights, once filled with cuddles and kisses, had turned into bitter, sleepless arguments. The beautiful thing we built together had slowly fallen apart—and we just watched it crumble.
We'd been so busy chasing everything else that we forgot to take care of ourselves, and of each other. Every attempt to help only ended in shouting. One fight led to another until we both forgot what peace even felt like.
I remember how she used to yell at me whenever I asked her to have dinner together. The sad look in her eyes always broke me, even when she pushed me away. No matter how much I denied it, I knew—if we ever wanted to be happy again, we had to let each other go.
My gaze fell on our old photo sitting on the table beside me. I smiled faintly, tracing the frame with my thumb, remembering the laughter behind those frozen smiles.
I was just about to drift back to sleep when—
"Momoring~!"
My best friend, Sana, barged into my room without even knocking. Mina followed behind her, calm as ever, completely ignoring the chaos that was about to break out, and settled herself on the couch.
"Why are you still with Chaeyoung again?" Sana asked with fake innocence.
I mentally facepalmed. Mina shot her a glare but stayed quiet.
"Because you're the one having an affair with the couch ever since BamBam appeared," she continued, rolling her eyes.
There she went again, teasing Mina because Chaeyoung once thought she was seeing someone behind her back—all because she saw Mina kiss BamBam's cheek before leaving a café. Poor guy was visiting his stepsister and managing his restaurant business, but he still had to explain himself to Chaeyoung so she wouldn't break up with Mina.
Now, Mina just sighed and looked away, pouting slightly.
"That was two years ago. And Chaengie and Bam are closer than ever now. I sleep on the bed, thank you. So stop teasing me about the couch incident~"
Sana and I burst out laughing, while Mina only groaned into her hands. Between Sana's chaotic energy and my nonsensical replies, Mina was doing her best not to lose her mind while texting her girlfriend.
"Anyway," I said after a while, "why are you both suddenly here? Aren't you guys busy?"
Sana's playful smile softened. "We missed you. You don't even come to the mall with us anymore. You work all week, spend your breaks at the dance studio, and now that you're finally on leave, you still prefer staying home doing nothing but eating and sleeping. You've changed, Momo."
Her voice carried both disappointment and concern.
Before I could respond, Mina spoke quietly. "The gang's hanging out today, and we need you there. If you don't come, we're not going either."
I blinked, caught off guard by her serious tone, then sighed.
"Okay, fine. I'll join. But you're buying me food— I'm starving."
They both smiled as I got up and headed for the shower.
~
I threw on a plain white T-shirt, blue denim jeans, and matching sneakers before walking out. Mina and Sana were already chatting— Mina calm and composed as always, Sana talking about everything and nothing.
The car ride was quiet for me. I mostly nodded or hummed in response when they spoke. My mind, however, was somewhere else entirely.
Tzuyu and I had been high school sweethearts. She was everything I wanted—everything I needed. We were inseparable back then.
Our little group—Mina and Chaeyoung, Sana and Dahyun, and us—felt unbreakable. People always say not to date within a friend group, but you don't understand that warning until you live it.
It's a double-edged knife. Being with someone who knows you inside out feels comforting... until it ends. Then it feels like losing a part of yourself.
Seeing Mina and Chaeyoung so happy together makes me proud—but also, a little hollow. Watching Sana and Dahyun still dancing around each other doesn't help much either.
It reminds me of everything I lost.
Maybe I'm still mourning what Tzuyu and I had. Maybe that's why Mina and Sana never bring the others when they visit me. I'd like to think it's because our friendship goes beyond the years we spent together in Korea.
~
Even surrounded by my friends, I felt alone. Their laughter filled the car, but it echoes like noise in the background—distant, almost unreal. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city blur past, a mixture of sunlight and shadows.
Every street we drove by reminded me of something.
The café where Tzuyu spilt her drink on me and wouldn't stop apologizing for hours. The park where she confessed—nervous, eyes darting everywhere else but me. The dance studio corner where she used to wait after my practice, waving her phone like an idiot whenever she saw me coming.
Every corner of this city had her fingerprints on it. And no matter how much I tried to erase them, they never faded.
I thought letting her go would eventually mean peace. But all it gave me was silence—and silence is louder than any fight we had.
Sometimes, I catch myself setting the table for two. I still turn when someone says her name. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake up reaching for a body, only to be met with the coldness of the sheets. A reminder that she isn't there anymore.
I hate that a part of me still expects her.
“Are you okay?” Mina’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I let the lie slip through my gritted teeth.
She didn’t push further. She never does. Mina understands that some wounds don’t want to be touched, only carried.
Sana glanced at me from the front seat, her usual smile faltering for a second — just long enough for me to notice. Then she turned back around, louder than ever, as if trying to drown the silence for me.
~.~
The mall was loud, full of people and colors, but it all felt distant, filtered through a fog I couldn't dissipate. They laughed and argued over what to eat, where to go, but my attention kept drifting. Every laugh, every familiar gesture, reminded me of her: how she would laugh at my terrible jokes, how she would tease me when I tried to act confident, how her eyes always seemed to see me before anyone else did.
I tried to force myself into their world—smiled when Sana poked fun at me, nodded when Mina suggested boba—but I was just a ghost in my own life. Every movement I made felt mechanical, rehearsed, scripted. I laughed when I should have, smiled when I should have, but it never reached my eyes.
At one point, I thought I saw her—the familiar curve of hair, a tilt of the head. My chest tightened, my stomach dropped. For a fleeting moment, I thought she'd appeared out of nowhere, ready to fix it all—to fix the broken pieces I'd carried, long after she had left. But of course, it wasn't her. Just another stranger. Just another reminder of everything I lost.
I stepped outside, needing air. The cold hit my face and made me shiver, but it was better than the heat of memory that threatened to burn me alive. I sank onto a bench, head in my hands. The city moved around me—people rushing, chatting, living. While I stayed frozen, trapped in the same question looping endlessly in my mind: why couldn't we last?
I replayed everything. The first time she held my hand in high school, the time she told me she loved me under the cherry blossoms, the nights we spent talking about dreams too big for either of us. And then, the end—her voice, calm but firm, saying it was over. Not because she stopped caring, but because she needed something she couldn't take with me.
Peace.
I hated her for a moment. I hated her for leaving. I hated her for being the same person who had once pulled me into her orbit, made me feel whole, and then let go. But after the first wave of anger, the truth sank in: I couldn't hate her. Not really. She had always loved me in the only way she knew how. And somehow, she was right.
~
I walked home in a haze, the day blurring around me. My apartment was quiet—too quiet. I didn't bother turning on the lights. I collapsed onto the couch, clothes still smudged with the day, the conversations of my friends echoing faintly in my ears. I tried to text someone, anyone, but my phone felt useless, empty.
I often think about how love isn't always about fireworks or forever—sometimes it's just two people trying and struggling to keep each other from drowning.
And even though I tell myself I've moved on, I know the truth.
If she ever walked through that door again, I would forgive her. I would apologise. I would fall for her all over again, even knowing how it ends. Because no matter how many times I rebuild myself, there will always be parts of me that belong to her.
I thought about calling her, about sending a message that I'd never send. I wanted to tell her I missed her, that I still loved her, that I hated how much I still loved her. But I didn't. Because love isn't always meant to be returned. Sometimes, it's just meant to linger quietly in the corners of your heart, stubborn and painful, but it's yours and only yours to bear.
I curled up, hugging my knees, letting myself finally feel everything I'd been pushing away: the guilt, the regret, the ache. I was tired of pretending. I was tired of moving through the world as if she didn't exist, when every heartbeat whispered her name.
I thought about all the little moments I'd never get back. The shared glances, the inside jokes, the way she fit into my life like she was always meant to be there. And the worst part? I knew I'd never be able to reclaim them. They belonged to the past now, untouchable, as if they had never existed outside my memory. As if it had never been a reality.
~
Hours passed. The city outside darkened, lights flickering to life, but I stayed where I was. I let the silence swallow me whole. I let the grief run its course. I let myself feel every ounce of loss without shame.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, a small, fragile thought formed amid the wreckage.
Maybe one day...
Maybe one day, the ache would dull. Maybe one day, I'd be able to remember her without feeling like my chest was caving in. Maybe one day, I'd forgive myself for loving someone I couldn't have, and maybe, somehow, I'd carry the memory of her without it hurting so much.
And finally, maybe one day, I will feel less like a ghost haunting my own life and more like myself.
I didn't know when that day would come. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps years from now. But for the first time in a long time, I let myself breathe. I let myself feel the faintest glimmer of something like peace.
Because that's all anyone can do sometimes: live with the love they lost, survive the weight of it, and hope that maybe—just maybe—one day, the pieces would fall gently into place.
~~
The End.