broken glass | woosan

~31~

CEO'S POV

I sit in my office, the dim light from my desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. I glance at the clock on the wall, noting how late it has become. With a heavy sigh, I return my attention to the article in front of me.

My eyes scan the photos, focusing on the young couple smiling and holding each other close. Seeing them together sparks a flicker of anger within me, but it's not because they're causing any issues for the company. No, my frustration stems from something much deeper, something I've kept hidden from the world.

"God, why does this bother me so much?" I think to myself. It's not their fault. They're just happy. But seeing their happiness reminds me of the lover I could never have. I clench my jaw, feeling a pang of jealousy and longing. I've spent years burying my true self, putting my career and the company above my personal desires.

"I wish I could be that open, that free. Why can't I have what they have?" I wonder. The fear of judgment, the potential fallout—it's all too much. I've built this empire, but at what cost?

With another sigh, I push the article aside and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The weight of my secret presses heavily on my chest, a constant reminder of the life I wish I could lead but feel I can never attain.

Is it worth it? All this success, all this power, if I can't even be true to myself? The thought lingers, gnawing at me as I sit alone in the quiet of my office.

The truth is, I've never had the nerve to be open about who I am. The fear of judgment, of losing everything I've worked so hard for, has always held me back. I've hidden behind this facade for so long that sometimes I wonder if I even know who I truly am anymore.

It's like there's a wall between me and the life I want, and I've built it myself, brick by brick. And now, I'm trapped behind it, watching others live the life I can only dream of.

I envy their bravery, their freedom. They don't have to hide, don't have to pretend. They can love openly, without fear. And here I am, the CEO of a successful company, but too scared to live my own truth.

I think back to Wooyoung and the bravery he showed. He came into my office, head held high, ready to fight for his love. He was willing to give up everything—his career, his reputation, even his relationship with the other members—just to be true to himself and the person he loved.

I dryly chuckle, remembering the determination in his eyes. He was so fearless, so sure of what he wanted. And he didn't care about the consequences. He just wanted to be happy, to live his life without hiding.

Why couldn't I be more like him? Why couldn't I have that same courage? Instead, I chose the safe route, the path that kept me in the shadows. And now, I'm paying the price for it.

It's ironic, really. I've always prided myself on my strength, my ability to make tough decisions. But when it comes to my own happiness, I'm a coward.

Part of me feels bad for punishing them, but another part of me feels it's necessary. If I cannot be happy, why should they? It's a selfish thought, I know, but I can't help feeling it.

I've spent so much time suppressing my own desires and dreams that seeing others live freely fills me with a bitterness I struggle to control. Their happiness only seems to highlight my own misery even more.

I know it's not fair, that everyone deserves to be happy, but the resentment is a shadow that's hard to shake off. It's a constant battle between what I know is right and what I feel deep in my heart.

Maybe someday I'll find a way to reconcile these parts of myself, to accept that others' happiness doesn't have to mean my own unhappiness. But for now, I'm stuck in this cycle of envy and regret.