The Beginning of the End
I used to think falling out of love would be loud — a snap, like a branch breaking underfoot. But it was quieter. Slower. Like watching water evaporate from a glass you forgot by the window — one inch at a time, until there’s nothing left.
Although, I’m not even sure I could have ever called it love. Not even a few months ago, when we were still a brand new couple.
Jin kissed my cheek that morning and I felt nothing. Not even the usual irritation. Just... nothing.
I used to think Jin and I were good together. And maybe we were for a while, a few months ago when we were still brand new. There was a night when he surprised me with takeout from my favorite Thai place and let me pick the movie without negotiating it down to some thriller he’d rather watch. We stayed on the couch for hours, legs tangled, his hand lazy on my thigh, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward yet.
He’d looked at me then, just once, during the credits, and brushed my hair from my face.
“You’re easy to be around,” he’d said. At the time, I’d taken it as a compliment—proof that we were steady, uncomplicated. But looking back, it felt more like a placeholder. There was never much heat between us. No real spark. We had sex occasionally, more out of routine than desire, and even then... it was fine. Never electric. Never unforgettable.
He left my apartment in a rush — briefcase, phone, keys, cologne — as always. And I stood there in the kitchen, barefoot, holding a mug I hadn’t even sipped from, wondering how long it had been since I actually welcomed his touch.
I glanced around the room. His charger was plugged in next to my bed. His hair wax on the bathroom shelf. His blazer hung on the back of one of my dining chairs. It wasn’t until I really looked that I realized how much of him had slowly crept into my space.
He didn’t live with me — we’d never officially had that conversation. But his presence lingered like a guest who never left. And suddenly, I felt gross about it. Like I’d let something happen without consenting to it.
The apartment was silent once the door shut. I didn’t mind. The silence was honest.
I sat at the small table by the window, watching the condensation on the glass catch the morning light. My laptop sat open in front of me, waiting for me to edit a branded video for a skincare line I didn’t use and didn’t care about. A jar of cream, a woman’s smile, some text that read “Radiance Redefined.” It was already giving me a headache.
Normally, I worked at the agency’s downtown office, tucked inside a too-white cubicle that smelled like toner and despair. But today I’d told my boss I needed to work from home — and to my surprise, he agreed.
I didn’t tell him the real reason I’d asked. That the thought of sitting in that freezing office, pretending I cared about color grading and client notes while my relationship quietly eroded... felt like a farce.
My camera sat across the room on a tripod, untouched. I hadn’t filmed anything of my own in weeks.
I opened my editing software, dragged in the clips, and started clicking through the footage like muscle memory — but I wasn’t paying attention. My mind drifted back to the dream I’d had the night before.
It was nothing wild — just me, in a kitchen that wasn’t mine, laughing. The kind of laugh that stretches your stomach. There was a man, but his face was blurry, like I’d forgotten it right after waking. But I remembered how it made me feel.
Wanted. Present. Alive.
I shook it off and got back to work, but the feeling lingered — like a stubborn thread I couldn’t stop pulling.
Around noon, I burned the soup I wasn’t paying attention to and dumped it straight into the sink. I murmured a curse, wiped my hands on a dishtowel, and opened my delivery app.
Jin would text around 3 to say he’d be late. He always did. Some client dinner or a meeting with “the partners.” I used to ask questions. Now I just replied with “okay.”
That day, I didn’t bother replying at all.
Later, he messaged:Let’s get coffee tonight? Hanbok Café. 6.No punctuation. No question mark.
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering. Then typed:Okay.
I didn’t know why I said yes. Maybe because the idea of sitting in the apartment with his stuff all around me made my skin crawl.
Maybe because something in me was shifting.
Or maybe because, it was about time me and Jin had a serious talk.
