The Conquest (Underworld 5) SH

42: Can't Do This Anymore

Soonyoung stood in the quiet apartment, the room dim except for the soft glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains. The air was thick, heavy with the remnants of last night's argument, and the pungent scent of alcohol still lingered. His eyes drifted over Yuta, sprawled on the bed, breathing deeply in a peaceful sleep that almost looked serene—almost like nothing had happened.

But so much had happened.

Soonyoung's chest tightened as he watched Yuta's face, soft in sleep. In the stillness of the night, Yuta seemed worlds away from the man who had raised his hand in anger, who had let fury overtake their love. He looked like the Yuta Soonyoung had fallen in love with—gentle, charming, full of life. But those days were long gone. The cracks in their relationship had widened into deep, irreparable chasms. No matter how hard Soonyoung had tried to salvage the pieces, last night had proven what he had been avoiding for so long: they were broken, and no amount of love could fix it.

His duffel bag lay open on the floor, half-packed with what little he was taking. Clothes, essentials, and the few items that meant something to him—things that weren't tied to Yuta. His hand hovered over the zipper, his heart beating heavily in his chest. This was it. He had made up his mind. He couldn't stay any longer, not after everything that had happened. Not after what Yuta had become.

Soonyoung pulled the zipper shut, the sound slicing through the stillness. His breath hitched as he turned one last time to look at Yuta, asleep as if the world around him hadn't shattered. It was ironic, almost cruel, how peaceful he seemed after everything he'd done. Soonyoung's heart ached, torn between the love he still felt and the deep hurt that had slowly, relentlessly eroded that love over time.

For a fleeting moment, Soonyoung remembered the days when things had been easy—when Yuta had made him laugh until his stomach hurt, when their late-night talks had stretched into early mornings, full of dreams and plans for a future they both wanted to share. Those memories were like ghosts now, haunting him, reminding him of the man Yuta used to be before anger and jealousy had swallowed him whole.

But those days were gone, and the Yuta lying on the bed wasn't the man Soonyoung had loved. He wasn't even close.

"I can't do this anymore," Soonyoung whispered, more to himself than to the room. His voice was barely audible, lost in the stillness. He stood there, frozen for a moment, a lump in his throat as his mind flashed back to the way Yuta had screamed at him last night, the way his hand had come crashing against the car, how Soonyoung's head had spun with the impact. The betrayal. The fear. And then the crushing realization that this—this violence, this toxicity—was all that remained of their relationship.

His fingers curled tightly around the strap of his duffel bag as he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Jiya had agreed to let him stay with her for a week, just until he figured out what to do next. Soonyoung wasn't sure what would come after that—he wasn't sure of anything anymore—but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't stay here. Not with Yuta. Not anymore.

He slung the bag over his shoulder, the weight of it a dull reminder of the burden he had carried for far too long. Slowly, deliberately, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. He paused at the door, his heart hammering in his chest as he glanced back at Yuta one last time.

Yuta was still fast asleep, his face calm and untroubled, his breathing steady. He looked like he hadn't a care in the world, like Soonyoung leaving wouldn't make a difference. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe this was what Yuta had wanted all along—to push Soonyoung so far away that leaving was the only option left.

Soonyoung felt a bitter sting at the thought, but he swallowed it down. There was no point in wondering anymore. He couldn't keep holding on to what-ifs and maybes. Yuta had made his choices, and now Soonyoung was making his.