Dear Diary,
I thought I was doing okay.
Really. After the park and the ballet shoes sketch, I felt something inside me begin to shift — like spring air moving through a house that's been shut up all winter. I even danced a little last night in my room. Just for a moment. Just for myself.
And then tonight happened.
And everything came rushing back like a wave that hadn't quite finished with me.
It started like a normal evening. I was in my apartment, hair in a towel, heating up leftovers, humming something I didn't even realize was a lullaby my mom used to sing. I was texting Jung-Kyo — nothing flirty, just warm things.
Me: "The porridge from last week is now legendary. You may have ruined all other meals."
Him: "I accept responsibility for raising your standards."
I was about to send a joke about hiring him as a full-time chef when someone knocked on the door.
8:39 PMI opened it without thinking.
And there he was.
Se-Jin.
He reeked of whiskey and something colder. His button-down was wrinkled, collar askew, his eyes bloodshot and wild with the kind of loneliness that disguises itself as anger.
"Hey," he said.
Just one word. Flat. Familiar. Like the last month hadn't happened. Like he hadn't ripped my chest open and walked away.
I stood there in silence.
My towel slid off my shoulder. I didn't bother to fix it.
"What do you want?" I asked, voice low.
He smiled — bitter and slanted. "You always had that tone. That little bite."
I didn't answer.
Because answering meant giving him power.
He stepped forward. I stepped back.
"Relax," he said, raising a hand. "I'm not here to fight."
"Then leave."
He flinched at that.
"You really don't miss me at all?"
I didn't say anything.
Because part of me — the weak, rusted part — did.
But it wasn't love.
It was habit.
The ghost of a rhythm I'd spent years dancing to, even after the music turned cruel.
8:45 PMHe stepped inside without being invited.
I froze.
My legs didn't move. My throat closed.
I hate that I froze.
"Still smells like you," he muttered, walking toward the couch like he owned it. "Still feels like home."
"It's not your home anymore," I said.
He laughed — sharp and bitter. "Right. You've got someone else now. Mr. CEO, huh?"
The venom in his voice made my blood chill.
"You don't get to ask about my life," I said.
"Oh, I think I do." He turned, eyes narrowing. "You moved on fast, Mi-Chan."
"I didn't move on. I moved away."
Silence.
Then: "I miss you."
I swallowed hard. "No, you don't. You miss owning me."
He took a step toward me.
My back hit the wall.
I couldn't breathe.
I didn't know what he was going to do — nothing violent, maybe. But his energy felt like a storm about to strike. Something feral. Something ruined.
And then —
A knock.
Firm. Sharp. Three times.
8:52 PMThe door opened before I could speak.
And there he was.
Jung-Kyo.
His expression wasn't angry.
It was calm.
Too calm.
His eyes swept the room, landing on me. Taking in the towel on the floor, the tense curve of my shoulders, the way I hadn't moved.
Then he looked at Se-Jin.
And everything in him sharpened.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Se-Jin blinked. "Who the hell are you?"
"I could ask the same thing."
"Tch. Of course. You must be the flavor of the month. I was wondering who replaced me so fast."
"You replaced yourself," Jung-Kyo said, voice smooth as glass. "She just finally stopped waiting."
Something in Se-Jin's jaw twitched.
"You don't know anything about us," he growled.
"I know she looks scared."
My breath caught.
Because I was.
Not just of Se-Jin.
But of everything I used to tolerate.
The way I used to explain away every moment like this.
Jung-Kyo stepped forward, slowly, placing himself between us.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't touch Se-Jin.
He just stood there. Still. Solid.
"You should leave," he said.
Se-Jin scoffed. "Is this supposed to be intimidation?"
"No," Jung-Kyo said. "It's a boundary. One she doesn't owe you, but I'm here to enforce."
Se-Jin looked at me.
Eyes suddenly glassy.
"I was good to you," he said.
I didn't speak.
Because we both knew that was a lie.
9:05 PMHe left.
Stumbled out with his pride and his guilt and his cologne clouding the doorway behind him.
The second the door clicked shut, I collapsed onto the floor.
My legs finally gave out.
Jung-Kyo was beside me in two steps.
"Hey," he said, crouching down. "You're okay. He's gone."
I nodded.
But tears still poured down my cheeks.
Not for Se-Jin.
For the girl I had been.
For the way I used to call this love.
9:13 PMHe helped me onto the couch.
I curled up, hands shaking.
He didn't speak.
He didn't offer clichés.
He just sat.
And when I finally leaned my head against his shoulder, he shifted so I could stay.
And I stayed.
9:28 PMI broke the silence.
"You didn't flinch," I whispered.
"Why would I?"
"Because I've been a mess since the day we met."
He looked down at me.
"You think I don't have scars too?"
"I know you do. But you carry them better."
"No. I just stopped apologizing for bleeding."
That sentence landed like a lifeline.
9:45 PMI asked him why he came tonight.
"I had a feeling," he said.
I frowned. "That something was wrong?"
"No," he said, brushing a hair from my face. "That I needed to be there when your past came knocking."
10:03 PMHe stayed until I calmed.
Didn't leave.
Didn't push.
Didn't ask what Se-Jin meant to me — or how much it still hurt.
He didn't need to.
Because he saw it.
All of it.
And stayed anyway.
11:15 PMHe's gone now.
Said he'd text when he got home. He already has.
"I meant what I said. You don't owe anyone anything. But you deserve someone who stands in front of the things that once scared you."
I'm staring at the message.
And for the first time in a long time…
I believe him.
Tonight didn't just show me who Se-Jin still is.
It showed me who Jung-Kyo has always been.
The one who doesn't flinch.
The one who stays.
The one who stands between me and the darkness — not because I'm weak…
…but because I'm finally choosing not to face it alone.
– Mi-Chan