𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

“I… I can’t believe this, Soo,” I whispered, my voice so small it nearly disappeared into the silence between us. But the silence said enough. It always had.

“You never really loved me, did you?” I asked, not even sure I wanted the answer. My throat tightened around the words, raw from holding them in for so long.

You didn’t answer. Of course you didn’t.

And that silence? It was louder than anything you could’ve said. It was the final confirmation of everything I’d been trying to unsee.

We started off like fire—fast, reckless, all-consuming. I really believed we had something real. I thought what we had could survive anything. But over time, little cracks formed in all the places I thought we were strongest.

I stayed up too many nights waiting for you to come home. Staring at my phone, wondering why the texts stopped. And that look in your eyes when you thought I wasn’t watching… it said more than your mouth ever did.

Still, I held on. God, I held on so tightly to the idea of us. I made excuses. I called it a phase. I told myself we’d find our way back. That people don’t just fall out of love like that.

But the truth? You did.

Maybe you were never in love in the first place.

And now, this silence between us—it’s not peaceful. It’s hollow. It’s heavy. It's the kind that wraps around your chest and doesn’t let go. It hurts in a way that’s not loud, but constant.

And I finally hear it for what it is. It’s the sound of you not choosing me.

The pain hit me all at once—like I’d been standing in the ocean for too long and suddenly realized I was drowning. And then came the anger. At you, yes. But mostly at myself.

How did I miss it? How did I ignore the signs?

I gave you so much of me. My time, my heart, my belief in us. And in return, I got half-hearted I-love-you’s and a version of love that only existed in my head.

So I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done: I walked away.

I packed my things, one piece at a time, with tears sliding silently down my cheeks. I didn’t need a fight. I didn’t need one last conversation. What more was there to say when you already said it all by saying nothing at all?

Leaving you wasn’t just about leaving the apartment. It was leaving the idea of us. The memories. The plans. The hope. I walked out not just with a suitcase, but with a bleeding heart and the weight of goodbye in every step.

The days after were brutal. The bed felt too big. My mornings were too quiet. My thoughts, too loud. But even in the worst of it, I knew I had made the right choice.

Because the truth is, I deserve more.

I deserve love that answers when I call. That looks me in the eyes and means it. That chooses me—not out of habit, but because it wants to.

And slowly—so painfully slowly—I started finding myself again. Not the version of me that shrank to make room for you. The real me.

Somewhere in all that silence, I found something unexpected: my voice. My strength.

And now, I’m done waiting for words that were never going to come. I’m done trying to make sense of your silence.

So goodbye.

Goodbye to the illusion. Goodbye to the weight of unspoken truths.

I’m stepping into a future where love sounds like laughter, like honest conversations, like someone saying my name and actually meaning it.

And this time, I won’t settle for silence.

—Soojin’s Pov

I don’t even know where to begin.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. Barely a whisper, but it cut through the room like a scream. The kind of silence that follows... it’s the kind you don’t forget. Heavy. Final.

Then she asked the question I’d been avoiding for weeks. Months, maybe.

“You never really loved me, did you?”

And I just stood there. Silent. Because what was I supposed to say? Anything I said would've either been a lie or too late. Maybe both.

I wanted to love her the way she deserved. God, I did. And for a while, I think I did. But somewhere along the way… I drifted. Things changed. I changed.

The truth is, we had a beginning that felt like a movie. Late-night drives, laughter spilling out in grocery store aisles, her hand always finding mine without thinking. I remember the way she looked at me back then—like I was her favorite song.

But somewhere between life getting busier and my heart getting quieter, that spark dimmed. I stopped showing up. Missed her calls. Gave her my presence but not my attention.

I noticed the way she started folding into herself. How she overcompensated—planning dates, forgiving things I didn’t even ask to be forgiven for.

And I just let it happen.

I thought maybe if I stayed quiet long enough, she'd stop asking the hard questions. But of course she didn’t. Because she loved me. More than I probably ever deserved.

She waited—for answers, for signs, for me.

And I gave her silence.

I watched her cry without reaching out. I watched her fall apart and still try to hold us together. That was the worst part. Knowing she was giving her all to something that already felt gone to me.

I didn’t mean to be cruel. But sometimes silence is cruel. And I own that.

When she walked out, she didn’t slam the door. She didn’t yell. She just… left. Quietly. The way people do when they’ve finally accepted the truth.

And that truth?

I didn’t love her the way she needed. And by the time I realized how much I missed being loved by her, it was already over.

She deserved more than my uncertainty. More than my silence. More than a love that faded without warning.

So I let her go. I didn’t stop her. I couldn’t. Because loving someone also means knowing when to set them free—especially when you were the one who broke what was beautiful.

I hope she finds someone who never makes her question her worth. Someone who listens. Who shows up. Who never lets silence be the loudest thing in the room.

Because she?

She was worth everything I couldn’t give her.

And now, all I have left is this silence.

And the sound of a door that didn’t slam, but still closed for good.