The next morning, Mi Rae woke before sunrise.
She lay on her side, staring at the empty space beside her.
Jinyoung hadn't come to bed.
She found him in his study when she walked downstairs.
He was asleep on the sofa, his phone resting against his chest.
A half-empty bottle sat on the table.
Mi Rae stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
She remembered the first time she had met him.
He had been handsome, confident, and reserved.
She had admired his determination.
She had believed that, with time, they could build something meaningful.
She had even convinced herself that love might grow from the respect they shared.
But somewhere along the way, she had become a woman waiting for her husband to look at her.
She stepped inside and picked up the bottle.
Jinyoung stirred.
His eyes opened slowly.
"Mi Rae?"
She looked at him.
"How much did you drink?"
He sat up.
"I don't know."
She set the bottle down.
"You can't keep doing this."
He rubbed his face.
"Please don't start."
She stared at him.
"Do you know what I did last night?"
He looked at her.
"I cried."
He lowered his eyes.
"I cried because I realized my husband doesn't even see me anymore."
He said nothing.
"And do you know what I did after that?"
He shook his head.
"I sat in our bedroom and wondered how I could leave a marriage I had spent so much time trying to save."
Jinyoung looked up sharply.
"Mi Rae—"
She lifted a hand.
"Not now."
He fell silent.
She took a breath.
"I need some time."
Then she walked out.
Jinyoung remained on the sofa.
He stared at the doorway long after she was gone.
For the first time, he wondered whether his regret had become an excuse.
An excuse to avoid taking responsibility for the pain he was causing.
He had lost Kyrah because he had been too afraid to stand up for her.
And now he was losing Mi Rae because he was too consumed by the woman he had lost to care for the woman he still had.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
He had thought regret was supposed to make him a better man.
Instead, it was turning him into someone he barely recognized.
---
ONE WEEK BEFORE HONG KONG
Jinyoung returned home late on Sunday evening.
The house was unusually still.
He removed his shoes and loosened his tie.
"Mi Rae?"
No answer.
He walked into the living room.
She was sitting on the sofa, dressed neatly, her hands folded in her lap.
A folder lay on the table in front of her.
Jinyoung stopped.
"You're awake."
"We need to talk."
He looked at the folder.
Something about the way she was sitting made his stomach tighten.
He approached slowly.
"What is this?"
"Sit down, Jinyoung."
He stared at her.
Then he sat.
Mi Rae pushed the folder toward him.
He opened it.
The first page carried their names.
His eyes moved across the document.
Then stopped.
Divorce.
For several seconds, he couldn't make sense of the word.
He looked up.
"You're serious?"
Mi Rae held his gaze.
"Yes."
He looked back at the papers.
Then at her.
"Mi Rae..."
"I've made my decision."
He closed the folder.
"Can we talk about this?"
"We are talking about it."
"I mean properly."
She gave a small, tired smile.
"We've been talking for months, Jinyoung. You just haven't been listening."
He swallowed.
She leaned forward.
"I can't do this anymore."
He stared at her.
She continued.
"I can't keep waking up beside a man who wishes he had married someone else. I can't keep sitting across from you at dinner, wondering whether you're thinking about her."
Her voice trembled.
"And I can't keep pretending that if I love you enough, you'll eventually love me back."
Jinyoung looked down at his hands.
Mi Rae wiped her cheek.
"I won't spend my life being the punishment for your regret."
He closed his eyes.
The words cut deeper than he expected.
Because she was right.
He had turned their marriage into a place where his regret was always present.
Every conversation.
Every silence.
Every time he looked through old photographs.
He had made her live in the shadow of a woman who wasn't even there.
He opened his eyes.
"Mi Rae, I know I've hurt you."
She looked at him.
"I know."
"I never wanted—"
"Please don't."
He stopped.
She shook her head.
"Don't tell me you never wanted to hurt me. I know you didn't marry me with the intention of destroying my life."
She paused.
"But you did hurt me, Jinyoung. And you kept hurting me even after you knew what you were doing."
He looked at her.
She continued.
"You loved her. You chose me anyway. Now you regret it."
Her voice became firmer.
"That is not my fault."
He lowered his eyes.
"I know."
"Do you?"
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Mi Rae studied him.
For a moment, she seemed to be searching for something in his face.
Perhaps she wanted him to ask her to stay.
Perhaps she wanted him to tell her that he would change.
Perhaps some part of her still hoped that the man she had married was somewhere inside the person sitting before her.
But when he finally spoke, it wasn't what she expected.
"I'm sorry."
She looked at him.
Jinyoung's voice was low.
"I'm sorry I made you feel like you were never enough."
Her eyes filled with tears.
He continued.
"You didn't deserve that."
Mi Rae pressed her lips together.
"No. I didn't."
He nodded.
"I know."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Mi Rae stood.
"I'll be staying with my sister for a while."
Jinyoung looked up.
"Mi Rae..."
She picked up her bag.
"I'll have my lawyer contact yours."
He stood too.
"Wait."
She stopped.
He wanted to say something.
Anything.
But he couldn't find a reason to ask her to stay.
He had no right to demand that she continue living in a marriage he had already abandoned emotionally.
Mi Rae looked at him one last time.
"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for, Jinyoung."
Her voice broke.
"But I hope you understand that you don't get to destroy everyone around you just because you're unhappy."
Then she walked away.
The front door closed.
Jinyoung stood alone in the living room.
He stared at the divorce papers.
Then he sat down.
For a long time, he didn't move.
The next morning, Jinyoung went to his study.
He placed the divorce papers on the desk and read them carefully.
His name.
Mi Rae's name.
The terms of their separation.
The legal language that would turn their marriage into something that had once existed.
He picked up his pen.
Then stopped.
He stared at the signature line.
He remembered Mi Rae sitting across from him the night before.
The tears in her eyes.
The way she had said she couldn't spend the rest of her life being punished for his regret.
He thought of the woman she had been when they first married.
The woman who had tried to make him happy.
The woman who had waited for him to come home.
The woman who had asked him if he still saw her.
And he realized that he had never truly answered her.
Not because he didn't see her.
But because he had been too selfish to acknowledge what his choices were doing to her.
He signed.
His hand moved steadily across the page.
Jang Jinyoung.
The ink dried.
He put the pen down.
For a moment, he stared at his signature.
Then he closed the folder.
It was done.
He had not wanted the marriage to end.
But he knew he had already destroyed it.
That night, Jinyoung sat alone in his apartment.
The divorce papers were on the desk.
His phone was beside them.
He opened the gallery.
Kyrah.
He stared at her face.
The photograph had been taken during one of their happier days.
She was smiling at him.
Her eyes were bright.
Her hand rested on his arm.
He remembered that day.
They had spent hours together, talking about nothing in particular.
She had laughed at his terrible joke.
Then she had leaned against him and told him she was happy.
He had believed her.
He had believed that they had all the time in the world.
He swiped to the next picture.
Kyrah standing in front of a café.
Kyrah holding a book.
Kyrah looking away from the camera, smiling at something he had said.
He pressed his lips together.
Then another memory came.
The day she told him she was pregnant.
He remembered her standing in front of him.
The nervous excitement in her voice.
The way she had searched his face, waiting for his reaction.
He remembered the first thing he had said.
Are you sure?
He remembered her smile fading.
He remembered promising to take responsibility.
He had meant it.
At least, he thought he had.
Then the pressure had begun.
His family's expectations.
The company's future.
The marriage they wanted him to enter.
The life they had planned for him.
And he had allowed fear to swallow the promise he had made to her.
He remembered the day he rejected her.
The way her eyes had filled with tears.
The way she had looked at him as though she couldn't understand how the man she loved could suddenly become a stranger.
He remembered the silence after he told her he couldn't be with her.
And he remembered walking away.
Jinyoung covered his face.
"Kyrah..."
Her name came out like a confession.
He had been cruel to her.
Not because he had stopped loving her.
But because he had loved his own comfort more than he loved her well-being.
He had made her carry the consequences of a decision he had been too afraid to make himself.
And when she needed him most, he had abandoned her.
He lowered his hands.
For the first time, he stopped telling himself that he had simply made a difficult choice.
He had made a selfish one.
He had hurt a woman who trusted him.
He had left her to face a pregnancy alone.
He had denied her the support he had promised.
And now, when he thought about Peppa, the regret became almost unbearable.
A little boy was growing up inside the woman he had once promised to protect.
A little boy he might never get to know.
He stared at the photograph.
"I should have been there."
The room offered no answer.
He leaned back in his chair.
He wanted to undo everything.
He wanted to return to the day Kyrah had told him she was pregnant.
He wanted to hold her hands and tell her that he wasn't going anywhere.
He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to be afraid.
He wanted to choose her.
But he couldn't go back.
And no amount of regret could erase what he had done.
His phone buzzed.
A message from his assistant.
Assistant: Sir, your travel arrangements for next week are ready for confirmation.
Jinyoung looked at the screen.
Hong Kong.
Kyrah.
The city where she had rebuilt her life.
He opened the message.
Then closed it.
He stood and walked toward the window.
For several minutes, he stared at the city lights.
He knew what he was doing.
He knew that going to Hong Kong would not erase the past.
He knew that Kyrah might refuse to see him.
He knew that she might look at him and feel nothing but pain.
But he couldn't keep sitting in Seoul, surrounded by the consequences of his choices, pretending that doing nothing was the same as accepting responsibility.
He needed to face her.
Not to demand forgiveness.
Not to insist that she return to him.
But to tell her the truth.
To apologize for what he had done.
To acknowledge the child he had once denied.
He had no right to expect a second chance.
But he wanted to stop hiding behind his regret.
He wanted to stand in front of the woman he had hurt and finally take responsibility for the truth.
Even if she never forgave him.
Even if she never wanted to see him again.
He returned to his desk.
Opened the flight search.
Seoul to Hong Kong.
He selected the date.
Then confirmed the booking.
The confirmation appeared on the screen.
Jinyoung stared at it.
His heart was beating hard.
He had made his decision.
He was going to Hong Kong.
He would see Kyrah.
He would tell her everything he should have said months ago.
And he would accept whatever answer she gave him.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Because beneath all his promises to respect her choices, one dangerous hope remained.
That if he could just look into her eyes again, if he could explain how deeply he regretted what he had done, perhaps she might still find a place for him in her heart.
He closed his laptop.
Then he picked up his phone and opened their old messages one last time.
The last message she had sent him remained there.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then he whispered,
"I'm coming, Kyrah."
He didn't know that the woman he was traveling to see had already begun building a life in which she no longer needed him.
And he wasn't prepared for what that truth would do to him when he finally stood in front of her again.