𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

"You said forever," I whispered, almost to myself. "But maybe I should’ve known better. You throw around words you don’t even understand."

The room was cloaked in moonlight, shadows dancing across the walls like ghosts of all the moments we used to share. The kind of quiet that felt loud hung in the air—an aching kind of silence only broken by a car passing on the street below.

Soojin stood across from me, her back turned. I watched her shoulders stiffen, a tell-tale sign that my words had struck something in her. She didn’t speak. She never did, not when it mattered. We’d been here before—same scene, different silence.

I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my hands from trembling. The burn behind my eyes made it hard to blink, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not this time.

"I thought you meant it," I said, louder now, clearer. "When you said you loved me. When you said you wanted forever. God, I believed every word."

She inhaled sharply, but still—nothing. Not even a glance back. It felt like we were two people standing on opposite cliffs, and whatever bridge we had once built between us had long since crumbled.

"I gave you everything." My voice cracked. I hated how raw it sounded. "All of me. My heart, my trust, my love. And what did I get in return? Lies. Half-truths. The kind of love that only shows up when it’s convenient."

There was a flicker of movement. Her arms dropped to her sides as if she was finally about to say something—but nothing came. Just her standing there, mute, while the weight of everything I never wanted to say poured out of me.

"I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore." A dry laugh escaped before I could stop it. "You’re always so good at making promises that don’t mean anything the moment you say them."

She turned around then—slowly, like it hurt. And maybe it did. Her eyes found mine, full of something—regret, guilt, maybe even love. But love, when it’s too late, feels more like cruelty than kindness.

"I’m… I’m sorry," she said softly. Barely audible.

I nodded, the corners of my lips pulling into a tired, sad smile. One of those smiles that knows it’s the end.

"Sorry doesn't fix things, Soojin," I said. "It doesn’t rewind time. It doesn’t make me forget how small I felt every time I waited for a version of you that never showed up."

Her expression shattered, but I couldn’t afford to care anymore. It was too late for sorry. Too late for maybes and could-have-beens.

"You said ‘forever'," I said again, more to the moon than to her. "But forever’s a promise, not a filler word. And you… you never had it in you. Not the staying. Not the trying. Not the love."

I didn’t wait for her to reply.

I turned and walked out, heart thudding painfully with every step. When I reached the door, I hesitated for just a second. One last breath in that room that had seen both our best and our absolute worst.

Then I closed it.

And with it, I closed the chapter.

We were done.

As I walked down the hallway and into the cold night air, the word ‘forever’ played in my mind like a broken record.

It used to sound so sweet—like laughter on a Sunday, or the way she once said my name like it was a secret.

But now?

Now it was just a word.

And words… are empty when there’s no action behind them.