Maze of the Heart

14- Broken Connections

Yonghwa stepped off the elevator onto her floor, the soft hum of its descent behind her the only sound in the silent hallway. Her heart pounded as she approached her apartment door, her fingers trembling slightly as she punched in the code. The beeping seemed deafening in the stillness, each chirp sending a shiver down her spine.

The door clicked open, and she slipped inside, careful to close it as quietly as possible. She stood in the entryway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the faint light filtering in from the streetlamps outside. The apartment was dark, eerily still.

Her gaze instinctively flicked toward the couch in the living room. It looked innocent enough in the moonlight—plush cushions neatly arranged, a throw blanket draped over one arm. But in her mind, it wasn't just a couch. It was a cruel reminder, an image burned into her memory: Serin's disheveled hair, Minho's flushed face, their intertwined bodies... Her stomach churned, and she quickly looked away, her breath hitching as she fought back tears.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tiptoed further inside. The faint creak of the wooden floor beneath her feet felt like a scream in the silence, and she froze, her breath catching.

She glanced toward Minho's bedroom door, which loomed like a shadow in the dim light. Her pulse quickened as she crept past it, each step measured, each breath held. The door remained closed, but the thought of him being just on the other side sent a cold wave of anxiety crashing over her.

Finally, she slipped into her own room, shutting the door softly behind her. Only when it was securely closed did she let out the breath she had been holding. She leaned back against the door, closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself.

When she opened them, her gaze fell on her desk, and her breath hitched again. There, sitting in a simple glass vase, were the flowers she had bought for Minho. He must have taken care of them, trimming the stems and arranging them neatly in water. The sight of them—once a symbol of her hope and affection—now felt like a dagger to her heart.

She walked over to the desk and gently touched the petals. They were still vibrant, but she knew they would wilt soon, just as her hopes had. She thought about throwing them away, but she couldn't bring herself to risk leaving her room again. Instead, she decided to deal with them in the morning and turned away, her chest tightening as fresh tears pricked at her eyes.

Yonghwa changed into her pajamas quickly, not even bothering to turn on the light. The darkness felt safer, less suffocating. She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, reaching for her phone to set her alarm. She scrolled down to set it for two hours earlier than usual. If she got up before dawn, she could leave the apartment without facing Minho.

Satisfied, she set the phone down on the nightstand and stared up at the ceiling. The silence in her room was deafening, and yet her mind was anything but quiet. She couldn't hear anything from Minho's room, but she could feel his presence like a weight pressing down on her chest. The man she had loved for so long was just a few feet away, and yet he felt farther than ever.

She tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but sleep wouldn't come. Her mind raced with fragmented thoughts and memories, each one sharper and more painful than the last. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she clutched her blanket tightly, as if it could shield her from the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Minutes felt like hours as she lay there, her body tense, her heart heavy. The ache in her chest refused to subside, and the faint glow of the flowers on her desk seemed to mock her with their fleeting beauty.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to sleep, but her thoughts remained a tangled mess, her anxiety keeping her awake. The only sound in the room was her uneven breathing, a quiet reminder of the pain she couldn't escape.