✓ TOO REAL TO DENY | SUNGHOON

11 - A Matter of Perspectives

SUNGHOON'S POV

"I don't think I love you, Sunghoon. No matter how much I try and tell myself that somehow I can change my feelings, it's just not happening. My heart belongs to someone else." Seoyoung's words feel like a punch to the gut as I sit across from her, staring at the cup of coffee that I didn't even realize had gone cold. I knew she was going to drop a bombshell on me, but hearing those words out loud makes it all too real. The truth was there, stark and undeniable, but accepting it felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.

I don't know what I'm supposed to say. We've been friends before our families decided that we should get engaged and I've loved her way before I put that ring on her finger. Am I supposed to just act like it never happened? Am I supposed to erase all those shared moments, the laughter, the dreams, the whispered promises exchanged under the moonlight? 

"Why?" The question sounds pathetic even to my own ears, but it's the only word that manages to escape the chaos in my mind. 

"Sunghoon, it's not about you. It's about me. I can't control my feelings, and I can't pretend that everything is okay when it's not." Her words cut through me, leaving wounds that I fear may never fully heal. I've never been a bad person to her, if anything I've tried my best to be the perfect fiancé, the supportive friend, the one she could rely on. Yet, in the end, it wasn't enough. I can't blame her for not loving me, though, none of us can control who we love or how our hearts choose to feel. The realization hits me like a tidal wave, drowning any lingering hope that this might be some cruel joke.

But I don't want her to feel guilty for loving someone else. I don't want her to think that I'd hold it against her, even though every part of me is screaming in pain. "It's fine. There's someone else in my life... too." The words escape my lips before I can think twice and her expression shifts from sadness to surprise. Maybe she didn't expect me to admit it so readily, or maybe she's taken aback by the revelation itself.

"Someone else?" Seoyoung repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, my throat tight. "Yes, someone else. I thought I could forget about her but I didn't and now that you know, it's only fair."

Seoyoung's eyes search mine, trying to decipher the truth behind my words. "I never imagined this, Sunghoon. I thought... I thought you loved me." 

"I thought you loved me too, Seoyoung," Fuck, my voice breaks at the last words, and I'm forced to look away. "But yeah, it's complicated. I didn't plan for this, and I certainly didn't plan for us to end up like this. I really wish you happiness, even if it's with someone else." With that, I quickly stand up to leave when she grabs my hand. Her hand is cold, even though the place is warm, and the touch sends a shiver down my spine. Then I hear her put her ring on the table, and the sound it makes is like a heavy punctuation mark, finalizing the end of a chapter.

"I don't think it's right for me to keep it," Seoyoung says quietly, her gaze fixed on the glimmering ring. "Take it back when you're ready." And with that, she stands up and leaves and I don't go after her. I won't. My feet would never allow me to follow someone who no longer wishes to be followed.

Alone in my car, I look at the ring I hold in my fingers before burying it inside the glove compartment before driving to work. I won't allow myself to dwell on the emotions that would literally shatter my heart, but they really are too much to contain. Seoyoung is not just a chapter in my life; she's a whole story narrated by shared glances, laughter, and whispered promises. Each memory is a sentence, a paragraph, an entire chapter etched into the fabric of my being. But I'm such a small part of her story, maybe just a paragraph or a few sentences if I'm being generous. It's a realization that stings. 

"Hello, Park Sunghoon," One of my colleagues says but I'm too emotional and fucking tired to respond with more than a forced smile. I quickly make my way downstairs to retrieve some papers from the tech team only to bump into a woman and have her coffee spilled on my new white Burberry shirt that I've bought with my own money. 

"Oh no," I watch as she stares at her broken mug on the floor and I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

"Seriously?" The last thing I need right now is a coffee-stained shirt. I'm already so emotionally drained that a stained shirt makes me want to be the worst asshole on the planet. And when she kneels down and starts picking up the shattered pieces, she cuts her fingers and I grab her hand to stop her from further injuring herself. "Are you fucking insane?"

"I-I didn't mean to—" I don't intend to sound like an asshole, and I hate the way she's looking at me like I'm some sort of heartless monster, but I pretty much deserve that. 

"Just watch where you're going. Unbelievable." Letting go of her hand, I make my way back to my desk upstairs and put my face in the palms of my hands. The woman's eyes linger in the back of my mind and the fact that she's hurt doesn't let me shake off the guilt gnawing at me. So the next thing I do is take the little bag with aid bands and ointment I always keep in my drawer and head back downstairs. I look around for her but she's not there so I have to ask someone whether they know a certain flower girl. 

"The new girl? That's her desk." I thank the woman who points out at the desk next to her and quickly put the bag on the chair before she comes back. The last thing I want is for her to see me right now, and it's not even like I'm avoiding her out of embarrassment. It's more about sparing her from any further discomfort caused by my earlier outburst.

I also check the CCTV records and snap a picture of the mug I accidentally knocked over in case I decide to get her the same one. I hope someone does that for me when I mess up, but deep down, I know it's not just about the mug. It's about my own heart that feels like it's been shattered into irreparable pieces.