Her hands trembled as she grabbed her keys from the counter, but she told herself it was just the cold. Just exhaustion. She didn't fight him. Didn't ask for explanations he clearly wasn't ready to give.
She told herself she was giving him space.
That was all.
People needed space sometimes.
So she walked out without looking back—not because she accepted it, but because turning around now would make everything too real. Too irreversible.
The hallway felt colder than she remembered, but she forced a slow breath, tried to steady her pulse. It's fine, she told herself. He just needed time. He'd come find her when he calmed down. Luca always did.
The walk to her apartment was strangely quiet.
Not heavy.
Just … suspended—like she was moving through a dream she would wake from soon.
Her footsteps echoed on familiar streets. Luca had walked beside her here countless times, but she pushed that thought away quickly, forcibly. Nostalgia was a trap. She wasn't falling into it tonight.
Her apartment felt foreign when she stepped inside. Dust coated the plastic sheet on her unused bed. She sat down anyway, smoothing the plastic with numb fingers as if that small movement could anchor her.
Maybe he just snapped, she rationalized.
Maybe something stressed him.
Maybe he didn't mean any of it.
Her mother's old warnings flickered at the edge of her mind, but she pushed them away with almost physical force. That wasn't helpful. That wasn't fair.
And Luca … wasn't like that.
Not with her.
At least … he never had been.
She stared at the room around her—the space she left behind because she couldn't imagine building a life anywhere except at Luca's side.
"Maybe he's just scared," she whispered to no one. The sound was small, almost embarrassed. "Maybe something happened."
Her phone buzzed.
Her heart leapt—too hopeful, too fast.
See? He messaged. That meant something.
But the message wasn't what she expected.
[Luca] to [Seo-in] 11:18 : Are you leaving already? I called your mom. She wants you back in Korea. I told her I don't need you anymore.
Seo-in blinked at the screen.
Her brain rejected the words at first—they didn't fit. They didn't sound like Luca. Not the Luca she knew.
Maybe this was a joke.
A bad one.
Maybe he was angry. People said things they didn't mean when angry.
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard as she tried to piece together the Luca she loved with the Luca who wrote that message.
They didn't match.
They couldn't.
Finally, she typed back—controlled, almost eerily calm:
[Seo-in] 11:20 : If you really feel that way, say it to me directly next time.
Then she blocked him—not because she believed it was over, but because she knew if he texted again, she would crumble. She would cling. She would explain everything away like she always did.
Blocking him felt like the only form of dignity she had left.
And even as she set her phone face-down beside her, she whispered to herself:
"He didn't mean it. He'll explain later. He has to."
She believed it.
Or she needed to.
Tonight, denial was easier to hold onto than the idea of losing him for real.
***
Not long after, her phone lit up.
Her mother.
Seo-in's stomach twisted painfully. She hesitated—just for a second—before old habits took over and she answered.
"Seo-in-a," her mother began, voice crisp with barely veiled satisfaction. "I told you this would happen."
The words stung more than they should've.
Of course her mother would say that.
Of course she would enjoy being right.
Seo-in forced her tone flat. "What exactly did he tell you?"
Her mother didn't miss a beat.
"That boy said he doesn't need you anymore. That he's bored. That you're stubborn and useless."
A scoff. Almost theatrical. "He comes from a patriarchal family, I told you. People like him … the kindness is just bait. He probably expected you to become his little servant once he had you tied down. Maybe worse."
Something inside Seo-in recoiled—violently.
"No," she said sharply. "He's not like that. Luca wouldn't—"
"Oh? Then why is he with another woman now?" her mother pressed. "Why did he throw you out like trash?"
Seo-in bit down a surge of anger so intense her vision dimmed around the edges.
Because something's wrong.
Because nothing about any of this made sense.
"What exactly did he say to you," she repeated, her voice cracking just slightly, "word for word."
A notification pinged.
Her mother had forwarded a voice message.
With trembling hands, Seo-in pressed play.
And heard Luca's voice.
Calm.
Cold.
Unfamiliar.
Each clipped sentence drove deeper under her skin, turning her ribs into something tight and suffocating. She replayed it again, searching—begging—for something, anything, that felt like the Luca she knew: a pause, a softness, a slip in his tone.
There was nothing.
Just a stranger wearing his voice like a mask.
Her chest constricted. The room tilted.
Did he even care at all?
Had she imagined everything?
Had she been loving someone who never loved her the same way?
"No…" she whispered, shaking her head hard as if she could dislodge the doubt clawing its way in. "No, he wouldn't say that. Not like that."
But denial only softened the blow for a moment before collapsing entirely.
Her fingers shook as she typed out one last message:
[Seo-in] 11:43 : "Who the hell are you?"
Then she blocked his number—not out of strength, but because hearing from him again might break whatever was left of her completely.
And for the first time since all of this began…
she no longer had anything left to defend.