16. | enough

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chapter sixteen

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It was nearly 2 AM when Jackson finally returned to their condo.

The front door clicked shut behind him, and he exhaled deeply—his shoulders heavy from exhaustion, his limbs sore from hours of driving back from Gangnam. He slipped off his shoes and ran a tired hand through his hair, expecting silence.

But the light in the kitchen was on.

And Lisa was sitting at the dining table.

She wasn't wearing her usual soft loungewear or her oversized hoodie. Instead, she was in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, her face clean of makeup, her hair loosely tied back.

She looked calm.

Too calm.

"Lisa?" Jackson's brows furrowed as he placed his keys on the counter. "You're still awake?"

Lisa didn't answer right away. Her fingers traced the rim of a mug in front of her. Cold tea, untouched. The steam had long disappeared.

"I waited for you," she finally said, her voice quiet but clear.

Jackson's concern turned to confusion. "Did something happen?"

Lisa looked up—and the way she met his eyes made Jackson's stomach twist. She wasn't sad. She wasn't angry. But she looked like someone who had made up her mind.

And that was worse.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

Jackson slowly approached, pulling the chair across from her, sitting down cautiously. His heartbeat sped up, something instinctively telling him that whatever was coming—he wasn't going to like it.

Lisa took a breath, then another, trying to steady her racing heart. She had rehearsed this moment in her head all evening. Over and over again. But now that it was here, it still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

"I've been thinking a lot," she began, her voice gentle. "About us. About me. About where I am in life."

Jackson said nothing. His brows were drawn, lips slightly parted, like he wanted to interrupt—but chose not to.

"I think I've been holding on to something that... stopped feeling right a long time ago."

Her words floated in the air like fragile glass—thin, delicate, and threatening to shatter with the smallest push.

"What are you saying?" Jackson finally spoke, voice tight.

Lisa swallowed. "I think we need to end this."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jackson blinked, as if he didn't quite register what he'd just heard. "What?"

"I'm breaking up with you," she said more firmly, locking eyes with him. Her throat burned, but she didn't let her voice waver. "I don't think I love you the way I used to."

Jackson's shoulders tensed. "Lisa, what the hell are you talking about? We're just going through a rough patch. You're tired. I'm tired. We can fix it—"

"It's not just about being tired, Jackson." Lisa cut him off—not cruelly, but honestly. "It's... deeper than that."

She looked down for a moment, then back at him. "I've been trying to convince myself that we're still the same people we were years ago. That we're still growing in the same direction. But I'm not. I've changed. And I can't keep pretending."

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