Dear Diary,
I didn't want anything extravagant.
No party.
No confetti.
No huge gathering with fake laughs and loud music and people I don't really know.
I just wanted him.
Just one evening.
One meal.
One slow hour where he looked at me like I was still his favorite place to rest.
I didn't even need a gift.
Just his presence.
And instead…
I got silence.
A cold plate.
A quiet room.
And the kind of ache you can't name without breaking in half.
11:14 AM
It started with a message.
Jung-Kyo: "Happy Birthday, Mi-Chan. Hope today brings you peace and light. You deserve that."
It was sweet.
But it was formal.
Detached.
Like something you send to a colleague. Not the person who's held your heart in her hands for months.
I reread it three times, waiting for the second message — the one that said, "I'll see you tonight," or "Get ready for a surprise," or even just "I love you."
But nothing came.
And a small voice inside me whispered: He's not coming.
I silenced it.
I texted back:
Me: "Thank you. Tonight at 7? I'll meet you there."
No reply.
I told myself he was resting.
Told myself it was nothing.
But I already knew.
3:33 PM
Chae-Sun brought home a cake.
She doesn't bake — she barely cooks — but she bought this ridiculous pink thing with pastel lettering and a heart drawn in clumsy icing.
I loved it.
I tried to smile like it was enough.
But she saw through me.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"You don't have to lie. Not today."
I blinked. Swallowed.
"He's just… tired," I said.
She didn't argue.
But her eyes softened the way they do when she knows I'm lying to myself.
4:52 PM
I sat on my bed for nearly an hour just staring at the dress I'd laid out this morning.
Nothing fancy.
Just soft fabric, a color he once said looked beautiful on me.
I brushed my hair.
Put on lip balm.
Tried to feel pretty.
And the whole time, I kept thinking: He'll come.
Because if he doesn't…
I don't know what this day becomes.
6:48 PM
I arrived at the restaurant early.
I watched the candles flicker across white linen.
Ordered two teas.
Tried not to look at the door every time it opened.
Tried not to check my phone every minute.
But I did.
Over and over.
7:13 PM
Still no message.
7:24 PM
The tea went cold.
7:39 PM
I knew.
Not just in my head.
But in the deepest, most sacred part of me — the part that had been trying to protect my heart all week — I knew.
He wasn't coming.
8:03 PM
I left money on the table and walked home.
Didn't cry.
Not yet.
It was like my body had gone numb to protect me.
Like it wrapped me in a blanket of denial just long enough to get me through the streetlights and traffic and the pitying stares from couples walking hand-in-hand.
But when I got home…
When I stepped into the apartment and saw the candles lit and the cake on the table…
I broke.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just slowly.
Quietly.
Like a roof giving way under too much snow.
8:49 PM
I sat on the floor in my dress, surrounded by unopened messages from friends, cheerful stickers in chat threads, phone calls I couldn't answer.
Because none of them were him.
And all I wanted was him.
The worst part?
I forgave him before he even asked.
I forgave him too quickly.
Because I know something's wrong.
Because I know he's fading.
And I'd rather take the scraps than have nothing at all.
9:32 PM
He finally texted.
Jung-Kyo: "I'm so sorry. I fell asleep. I missed everything. I hate that I let you down."
I stared at it for a long time.
Felt my throat tighten.
Felt everything inside me go still.
Then I typed:
Me: "It's okay."
And just like that…
I gave him my forgiveness wrapped in silence.
Because I didn't want to make it harder.
Because I didn't want him to feel worse than he already does.
Because I'm too afraid of pushing him away.
But Diary…
It's not okay.
It's not okay that he missed tonight.
That he didn't call.
That he didn't say I wish I could've been there. I love you. I'm scared too.
It's not okay that I'm pretending this doesn't hurt more than anything has in months.
But love, when it's real, makes you soft even when you're breaking.
And I love him.
God, I love him.
So I keep showing up.
Even when he doesn't.
10:11 PM
The candles are still burning.
I haven't touched the cake.
It feels wrong to blow out candles when the only thing I'm wishing for is for him to stay.
To come back.
To let me in.
But maybe the wish has already burned out.
Maybe he's pulling away because he knows the truth now.
Maybe the tests came back.
Maybe he doesn't want me to watch him fall apart.
But I would.
I will.
I'll stay until the last flicker.
Until the last breath.
Even if all I get are birthday wishes sent in regret.
Even if he misses the party but still owns the whole of my heart.
11:03 PM
I lit one more candle.
A small one.
The one he gave me months ago — lavender and pine, the scent he said reminded him of home.
I lit it and whispered:
"I still choose you."
And I do.
Even tonight.
Especially tonight.
Because love isn't about the perfect moments.
It's about the shattered ones.
The nights you cry in your party dress, sitting on the floor, still saving him the last slice of cake.
– Mi-Chan