His grip on that glass of champagne suddenly lost its strength; if not for his fast reflexes, he would indeed have dropped it down. Watching you entering the aisle to give your vows to another man was a bullet to his heart which he painfully took.
"...
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Past cannot be undone.
Everything that has happened was undoubtedly meant to be; there's no doubt in that regard.
But humans tend to regret token decisions every now and then; it's just how nature shaped them- decisions that were once so right seemed at a certain point the dumbest ever, and options that were discarded in exchange started appearing ever so right.
You often felt that way; you sometimes regretted having pushed the snooze button of your alarm when you knew that slumber would take over, you ended up being late every time you did that, yet habits were hard to die.
You regretted staying late at night doing nothing literally, well, maybe doing something. Indeed, for you, thinking about a future with Seokjin was a vital task, it was something you prioritized over a regular sleep pattern that was much needed for a lazy person like you- so every morning, you blessed the room with a renewal of an empty promise that you knew you would break the very next day.
I'll hit the bed by nine tonight, I swear.
Your regrets were always on similar notes, they almost had the same pattern, and their reasons were all irrelevant, all about matters that held no valuable importance.
You were grateful for that, albeit the annoyance from the repeated occurrence of your repentance; you were glad you hadn't made worst decisions, your sensitive conscience wouldn't cope with it.
A plot twist revealed itself sooner than expected, the tables turned, and your fears became a reality.
Your over-thinker self took over the carefree character that was once one of your traits, whereas repentance took over the cheerfulness- you hid the new side of you with the beautiful smile that you wore every day while walking through the corridor reaching for the elevator, just like the way you hid those dreadful pimples that appeared on your chin every beginning of the month with your makeup.
The road that led to the company never seemed that short; you wished the ride could get longer, you didn't want to go there or meet with anyone.
So ironic.
Working there used to be your ultimate goal; you outraged yourself to get scouted; you even strengthened your relationship with the almighty, going every Sunday without missing punctuality to the church, praying in total concentration, and all the faith you succeeded in summoning just for that to happen, and when finally your dream came true, you have thrown a party for your small circle of friends, you even cooked which was something you never enjoyed doing. Well, it was inedible; even stray dogs refused to eat what you've made, but again, celebratory requisites.
You became successful, just like you wanted.
The company offered more than you expected, the environment was fabulous, and you made many friends there, also many enemies, but you couldn't give less about them, you considered-ah no, sorry, you didn't consider them at all.
