The morning was too quiet. I didn't see Woo-jin in the house last night.
No pounding on the door. No obnoxious "Honeybear!" echoing through the hallway.
For once, I should've felt relieved. Peace at last. Finally no more crazy nonsense.
But when I walked into the kitchen, there he was.
Kang Woo-jin, sitting properly in the chair. No singing or humming. Shirt buttoned, pink hair tamed, posture polite. He looked like a guest instead of the parasite who'd made himself at home in my life.
I scowled. "What the hell are you doing sitting there like a well-trained dog?"
He lifted his head slowly, eyes calm. "Good morning, Dae-hyun."
I froze for a second. No ridiculous pet names. No dramatic flourish. Just a plain greeting. He didn't even say it in his crazy loving voice. What the hell. Is this one of his tricks? Maybe practice for his show.
"What's this? Playing house again? Or is this a new role you're rehearsing?" I spat, yanking open the cabinet. "Save it for the cameras."
He didn't rise to the bait. He just watched me, gaze steady, which somehow irritated me more than his usual antics.
"Seriously, what's your deal today?" I slammed the mug onto the counter. "Lost your script? Forgot how to be the clingy idiot you usually are?"
"Didn't you hate it when I'm like that?" He said it in a heart breaking voice. Like hell anything I did said would ever affect him. Just when did he become so sensitive?
"Yes I do, it's true. Why the hell are you co-operating?."
His voice came quiet, too careful. "Dae-hyun… do you really hate me?"
I let out a sharp laugh, ugly and bitter. "Finally. The great Kang Woo-jin drops the act and asks the obvious." I turned, meeting his blue diamond eyes with a glare. "Yes. I hate you. I hate your stupid nicknames, your shameless flirting, the way you treat my life like it's your personal stage. You're pathetic. Useless and only worth making people lives a living hell, Woo-jin. A lovesick puppy who doesn't understand the word no. I don't even know why you are so obsessed with me."
His face stayed calm, but I saw it—the faint twitch of his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the table.
Good. Let it sink in. He'll have the taste of his own medicine.
"You think this is some kind of fairytale marriage? It's not. You're a nuisance, nothing more. If you vanished tomorrow, I'd celebrate and finally be happy for once.."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating.
Woo-jin finally leaned back, exhaling slowly. I…I see."
That was all. No joke, no comeback. Just two words.
The absence of his usual drama irritated me more than anything. "That's it? No tantrum? No fake crying? Hah. Guess even you know when you've lost."
He gave a smile then, small and brittle, like it was cracked at the edges. "…You didn't used to say that."
The words froze me in place. "…What?"
But Woo-jin was already standing, smoothing out his shirt, that fragile smile still clinging to his lips.
"Nothing," he said softly. "Forget it."
I sneered. "Gladly."
"Thanks for being honest," he murmured, voice just above a whisper. And then he walked out.
No wink. No pet name. No arm slung around my shoulders. Just the sound of the door clicking shut.
For a long while, I stood in the kitchen, mug in hand, heart beating too hard for no reason.
Good, I told myself. This is what you wanted. No more clinging. No more Woo-jin.
So why did it feel like I'd just kicked a puppy until it stopped wagging its tail?
I always hated him from the first glance.
And how I desperately wanted to divorce him.
The first day without him was quiet. Blissfully, unnervingly quiet.
No banging on the door at dawn. No idiotic nicknames shouted across the hallway. No pink-haired menace trailing behind me like a second shadow.
For the first time in months, I could drink my coffee in peace. I sat at the table, savoring the silence, telling myself this was freedom. This was what I wanted.
So why did my hands keep tightening around the mug?
By evening, I caught myself glancing at the door. Waiting for it to swing open. Waiting for him to come barreling in, pretending yesterday never happened.
But it stayed shut.
Good, I told myself. Finally, he got the message. I've never been at peace in my whole life. That's what I wanted. If I divorce him, would I be fully at peace?
The second day, I woke up later than usual. The apartment felt colder somehow. Empty.
It felt larger. No one fed me food.
At work, my coworkers were buzzing, the way they always did when Woo-jin showed up to "surprise" me. I almost expected him to stroll in, that smug grin plastered across his face, ready to humiliate me in front of everyone again.
But the hours ticked by. No interruption. No roses, no declarations, no chaos.
"Where's your husband today?" one of them teased us as we broke for lunch.
I forced a laugh, sharp and brittle. "Hopefully halfway to another continent."
They chuckled, shaking their heads, but the words didn't sit right in my chest.
When I went home, the apartment was dark and still. I heated up leftovers and ate alone, every clink of the spoon against the bowl echoing too loud in the quiet.
I told myself it was perfect. No noise. No drama. Just me.
So why did it feel like the silence was choking me?
By the third day, I was restless.
I found myself checking my phone too often. Not because I expected him to call, of course not. Just… habit. Every buzz made my chest tighten, only to unclench when it wasn't him.
At the bus stop, I caught myself turning when someone laughed too loudly, expecting to see his ridiculous pink hair bobbing toward me. But it was never him.
"Good," I muttered to myself as I walked home. "I don't care. I don't care."
The lie rang hollow in the empty apartment.
The fourth day, rumors started.
"He canceled his shoot," someone whispered at the office. "The director's pissed."
"I heard he's been holed up at home, won't answer calls."
"Or maybe he's with someone else? You know how celebrities are."
I clenched my fists so hard the pen in my hand nearly snapped.
Why should I care? He wasn't my responsibility. He was the one who forced himself into my life. If he wanted to self-destruct, let him.
So why did my chest ache hearing it?
By the fifth day, I gave up pretending. My apartment felt bigger for some reason.
I sat in the living room, staring blankly at the TV. Some entertainment shows were playing highlights from Woo-jin's interviews and dramas. His smile lit up the screen, dazzling as ever, charming the audience like always.
But I'd seen the real one. I knew the difference.
That smile was fake. Too polished. Too hollow.
And I remembered it—the brittle curve of his lips as he left my kitchen. The way his voice cracked when he said, "Thanks for being honest."
My throat felt tight. I pressed my palms to my face, forcing the thought away.
This was what I wanted. I told him to leave me alone. I told him I hated him.
So why did it feel like the walls were closing in without him here?
Why did the silence hurt worse than his presence ever did?
I need to divorce him.
The show cut to a close-up of him laughing on stage, but his eyes didn't shine.
And for the first time, I whispered the question I'd been avoiding.
"If I hate him so much… then why does it hurt more when he's gone?" It's a sign to divorce him. I know it is.