The house felt colder now.
Mi-Ho kept his distance. Not out of cruelty—but confusion. He hadn't expected Hana to call him out, not so directly. Not so… bravely.
Hana, on the other hand, wasn't waiting anymore.
She poured herself into her dreams—fashion school, sketching designs at night, sending applications in secret. Her world, once suffocating, started to widen again.
But Mi-Ho noticed the change.
She laughed more around Ji-A. She danced lightly through conversations. She looked beautiful—because she was moving on.
And it scared him.
One evening, he lingered outside her door, hand raised to knock.
He didn't.
Inside, Hana sat on the floor, surrounded by drawings, thread, and ideas.
She was building a life again—one that didn't revolve around him.
Mi-Ho leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes.
He was losing her. Slowly, day by day. And for the first time, he realized…
Maybe that was the price of silence.