Guilty As Sin ► Y.JH

09

The soft, golden light of a late afternoon filtered through the open window, casting long shadows across the room. Soleil sat on the edge of her bed, camera in hand, her fingers absently tracing the lens as she stared at the photograph displayed on her laptop screen. The image was beautiful, a stark contrast to the gnawing emptiness she felt inside-a delicate, rain-soaked street, glistening under the soft glow of street lamps, a perfect encapsulation of solitude.

Photography had always been her refuge, her way of channeling the chaos of her emotions into something tangible. It was her escape from the storm that had become her reality. For weeks now, she had focused on nothing but her work-late nights spent in dark cafes, mornings spent capturing the beauty of the city. She told herself that it was helping, that it was making her forget. But the truth was, it was merely a distraction.

The weight of everything she had lost-everything that had been left behind in Jeonghan's apartment-loomed over her like a shadow that refused to lift. She still couldn't believe she had walked away. That she had told him it was over. Her heart ached when she thought of that night, the way he had looked at her with those haunted eyes, the desperate way he had tried to reach her, even as she pulled away.

Soleil sighed, clicking through her photo gallery, trying to lose herself in the art. She had told herself that walking away was the right thing to do, but deep down, she knew it was only a half-truth. She had told him she needed to cut ties before it destroyed her, but the truth was, she was still being destroyed by it. She was still waiting for something-anything-that would make her feel whole again.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, interrupting her thoughts. Her heart skipped as she glanced at the screen. It was a text from Jeonghan.

**"Hey... How's the photography going?"**

She stared at the message for a long time before responding. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to let the silence stretch between them, to keep the distance she had imposed. But another part of her-one that she was trying to bury-ached for some kind of connection, even if it was a small one.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she typed her reply.

**"It's going well. Been keeping busy, I guess."**

She pressed send, feeling a pang of disappointment as she set the phone down and returned to her laptop. The words felt empty. They didn't convey the mess that was her life, the way she had been struggling to hold herself together these past few weeks. But she couldn't bring herself to say more. Not now. Not when everything between them felt like a fragile string that could snap at any moment.

Her phone buzzed again.

**"That's good. I've been thinking about you."**

Soleil's heart tightened, and she stared at the message, her chest constricting. The words were simple enough, but the weight they carried was immense. She had been trying so hard to move on, to create a space where she could heal, but every time he reached out, it pulled her back into the chaos.

She bit her lip, staring at the screen, unsure of how to respond. She wanted to tell him that she had been thinking about him too. That every day felt like an uphill battle without him. But she couldn't. She couldn't open that door again, knowing how fragile their situation had become.

**"I've been thinking about you too,"** she typed before quickly deleting it. She couldn't say that. It would only make things harder. Instead, she settled on something less vulnerable.

**"Hope you're doing well."**

She hit send, immediately regretting the finality of it. It was too polite, too distant. It wasn't what she really wanted to say. But she had to keep the distance. She had to protect herself.

The silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity before Jeonghan replied.

**"I miss you."**

The words were so simple, so direct. But they hit her like a tidal wave, crashing through the barriers she had so carefully built. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers trembling as she stared at the screen.

She missed him too. More than she cared to admit. But it didn't change the fact that they couldn't be together. They couldn't go back to the way things were. The distance between them was too vast, and the pain of knowing that they could never have what they both wanted was too much to bear.

Her mind raced, torn between the urge to respond, to tell him how much she missed him, how she still ached for the warmth of his touch, and the part of her that knew she had to let go. She had to stop clinging to something that was never meant to be.

**"I miss you too,"** she finally typed, her fingers hovering over the screen. **"But it's not enough."**

She pressed send before she could second-guess herself. The words were harsh, but they were the truth. She needed to let go. She couldn't keep holding on to a relationship that had already slipped through her fingers.

The phone was silent for a long moment before Jeonghan replied, his message coming in slowly, as if he had been weighing each word carefully.

**"I know. I've been thinking about that too. It's just... hard, Soleil. I don't know how to fix this."**

Soleil closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She didn't know how to fix it either. And that's what made it so painful. She didn't know how to bridge the gap between them, the emotional chasm that had opened up since that night. It was as if they were living in two different worlds now-one where she was trying to move forward, and one where he was still stuck in the past, unable to let go of the what-ifs.

**"Maybe some things just can't be fixed,"** she typed, her thumb hovering over the screen. **"Maybe it's better this way."**

She stared at the message, feeling the weight of her own words. She knew they were true, but it didn't make saying them any easier. It didn't make the ache in her chest any less consuming.

**"I don't want this to be the end, Soleil,"** Jeonghan's message came in, quick and urgent. **"I don't want to lose you."**

Her heart clenched, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to come crashing down around her. She wanted so desperately to turn back, to tell him that they could figure it out, that they could find a way to make it work. But she couldn't. The distance between them-both physical and emotional-was too great. They had built a wall between them, brick by brick, and it felt impossible to tear it down.

**"Maybe we already have,"** she finally replied, her fingers trembling as she pressed send.

The message sat on the screen, a finality that both broke her and gave her a sense of peace. She had said it. She had let go.

But even as she stared at the screen, waiting for his response, she knew she would never be the same. Their love-if it had ever truly been love-was slipping through her fingers, like sand that couldn't be held.

The phone buzzed again.

**"I don't want to be the one to let go, Soleil. But if this is it, if this is what you need, then I'll respect it. I'll let you go."**

She read the message over and over again, her throat tightening with the weight of the words. He was letting go. He was choosing to walk away, and somehow, it was just as painful as when she had done it herself.

She sat in silence, her camera resting in her lap, her mind swirling with the fragments of what could have been. She had tried. She had done everything she could to make things work, to fight for them. But now, she knew. It was time to let go.

The distance between them had become too great. And no matter how much she wished it were different, she knew deep down that they could never bridge the gap.

So, with a heavy heart, Soleil closed her phone and turned her gaze back to the photograph on her screen, the image of the rain-soaked street glistening before her. It was beautiful, but it was also a reflection of the distance between them-a distance that was too vast to cross.

And just like that, the last of her hope slipped away, leaving only the quiet ache of a love that could never be.