It started with silence.
Not the heavy kind that lingers after a fight, but the slow, creeping kind that fills the space between two people who've already stopped trying.
Taehyung came home late again. He dropped his bag by the door, slipped off his shoes, and stood in the dark for a moment. Listening. The apartment was quiet. No music. No laughter. No even a scent of dinner.
Just the low hum of Minji's phone screen casting blue light across her face as she sat curled on the couch. Scrolling. Smiling at something that didn't involve him. He walked past her without a word.
That alone was enough to set it off.
"Wow," she muttered. "Another night, another cold shoulder. You don't even ask how I am anymore."
He paused in the hallway, fingers curling slightly.
Then turned around.
"You used to be someone I wanted to ask about," he said quietly. "But lately... you feel like a stranger in my own home."
She scoffed, setting her phone down with an exaggerated sigh. "Right. So now this is my fault."
"I didn't say that."
"No, you didn't have to," she snapped, rising to her feet. "It's written all over your face. You've been distant. Cold. I see the way you check your phone during dinner like you're waiting for someone else to text you."
He flinched.
Not because it was true, but because she wanted it to be.
"Minji," he said, exhausted, "don't twist this."
"Oh, please," she said with a bitter laugh. "Is it another fan you're into now? Or just some girl who looks at you the way I used to? Is that it?"
His jaw clenched.
"There's no one," he said, calmly. Too calmly. "But even if there was, you lost the right to be angry the moment you gave your love to someone else while I was in uniform."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
He was quiet for a long time.
"No," he finally said. "Because you didn't just cheat on me, Minji. You broke the one thing I thought was unbreakable. Trust."
She crossed her arms. "So this is it? You're leaving me? After everything we've been through?"
He nodded.
"I think we both left a long time ago," he said. "We just didn't have the courage to say it."
She stepped closer. "You're just looking for an excuse. I tried. I changed. You just don't want me anymore, and now you're pretending it's because of the past–"
"I wanted you," he said, pain slipping through his voice. "Even after what you did. I gave you another chance, Minji. I waited for the change. I watched you come home to me with your hands full of silence and your heart somewhere else. I stayed. You were the one who let go first. And now I'm just... catching up."
Her face crumbled.
"You're just going to throw this away?"
He looked around their apartment, the pictures on the wall, the mugs they bought on vacation, the blanket she always stole from his side of the bed.
"I'm not throwing anything away," he said. "I'm letting go of something that stopped holding me back."
She started to cry. For a moment, the part of him that still remembered how tightly he used to hold her wanted to fold, to comfort.
But then he remembered all the nights she didn't ask how he was. All the mornings she kissed him while texting someone else; all the times he gave love and got silence in return.
And he didn't move.
"I hope you find someone who doesn't need you to change to feel loved," he said softly. "But that person's not me anymore."
He turned, picked up his coat, and walked to the door.
Behind him, Minji called out, voice cracking.
"She doesn't love you like I do!"
He paused.
Then said, without looking back:
"Maybe that's why it hurts less."