The café buzzed with the usual noises—glasses clinking, soft laughter, the steady hum of conversation—but to Siwoo, it all sounded distant, like background static in a nightmare. His focus narrowed to the pounding of his heart and the sound of his shallow breathing. His hands, clasped tightly beneath the table, felt clammy. He wanted to steady himself, but nothing could anchor him from the storm brewing inside.
Across from him sat Hana, the woman he had once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. She gazed at him with her familiar, wide-eyed curiosity, the look that had always made him feel seen. But today, it was unbearable. Her eyes, filled with trust, only made him feel smaller. She didn’t know what was coming. She couldn’t sense that the man she believed in, the man she had supported through every promotion, was about to tear her world apart.
Siwoo dropped his gaze to the table, his eyes tracing the swirling lines in the wood grain. Anything to avoid her face, anything to stop himself from falling apart. His fingers twitched toward the tie around his neck, the one Hana had given him when he applied for his current job. She had been so proud of him back then, believing in him more than he had believed in himself. The tie had once been a symbol of her faith in him, but now it felt like a weight around his neck, a noose tightening with every second he stayed silent.
He swallowed, his throat dry. “We should break up,” he finally said, the words leaving his mouth before he had the chance to think them through. The moment they escaped, he felt a hollow ache in his chest. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so cold, so final, but there was no taking it back now. The silence that followed felt suffocating, and he wished, for just a moment, that the world would stop. That time would freeze, and he could be spared from what was about to come.
Hana blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?” she asked, her voice soft but trembling. “Siwoo, what are you talking about? Why are you saying this?”
Her question hung in the air like a challenge, but Siwoo couldn’t answer right away. He had practiced this moment over and over in his head, rehearsing the words, preparing for how he would explain everything. Yet now, staring into Hana’s confused and tear-filled eyes, every carefully planned word felt cruel and clumsy. He wanted to tell her the truth—that he didn’t deserve her, that she deserved someone better, someone who would support her dreams without judgment. But the words refused to come out.
“We’re too different,” he said instead, repeating the lie he had told himself to justify what he was doing. It sounded pathetic, even to him. It wasn’t the real reason, but it was the only thing he could think to say. He couldn’t explain the guilt that had been gnawing at him for months, the feeling that he had failed her in a way he couldn’t fix.
Hana’s face crumpled, and Siwoo felt his stomach twist into knots. Her pain was palpable, and he knew he was the cause. He had never wanted to hurt her like this. But in trying to avoid the truth for so long, he had made things worse.
“I don’t understand,” Hana said, her voice cracking. “I thought we were okay. I thought we were happy.”
Siwoo’s chest tightened at her words. They had been happy once, hadn’t they? But somewhere along the way, things had changed. It wasn’t Hana’s fault. It was him. He had grown distant, consumed by his job, by the pressure to succeed. He had watched her build something new, something she was passionate about—a blog where she shared her love for books and films. Her excitement was infectious at first, but as she poured herself into it, Siwoo couldn’t help but feel a sense of disconnect.
When Hana had gone to college for accounting, she hadn’t really wanted to. Siwoo knew that. She had told him about how she felt pressured by her friends, how everyone expected her to choose something “practical.” Her parents had been supportive of her decision to leave accounting behind, wanting her to be happy above all else. But her friends, and even Siwoo, hadn’t been as understanding. When Hana announced she was going to start a blog, Siwoo had smiled and nodded, but deep down, he hadn’t taken it seriously. He had thought it was a phase, something she’d get tired of.
But Hana hadn’t stopped. She kept working at it, despite the lack of support from her friends, and even from him. She had pushed forward, determined to make something of her passion. And she had succeeded. She had a decent following now, people who actually cared about what she had to say. She had even landed her first sponsor recently, a milestone she had been so excited about. Siwoo had congratulated her, but part of him still couldn’t fully understand why it mattered so much to her.
And that was the problem. He hadn’t celebrated her successes the way he should have. He had judged her, even if he hadn’t said it out loud. He had seen her as someone who wasn’t living up to her potential, who wasn’t using her degree the way society expected. But Hana wasn’t like him. She didn’t care about climbing the corporate ladder, about promotions or money. She cared about doing what made her happy, and Siwoo had never fully appreciated that.
“I’m working hard to get promoted,” he said, forcing himself to keep going, even though the words felt like knives in his chest. “And you… you don’t even use your degree.”
He immediately regretted it. The moment those words left his mouth, he saw the pain flash across her face. It wasn’t just sadness now. It was betrayal. Her shoulders shook as she tried to hold back her tears, but they fell anyway, streaming down her cheeks. Siwoo reached for a napkin, wanting to help, but she shoved it away.
“Go,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Go be your successful money man. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
Her words were a lie, and he knew it. She wouldn’t be fine. She was trying to be strong, trying to put on a brave face, but he could hear the pain beneath her defiance. She had always been so strong, stronger than he ever was. But this time, he had pushed her too far.
Siwoo stood up, adjusting the tie Hana had given him, feeling its weight like a burden he no longer wanted to carry. He couldn’t bear to stay a second longer, to watch the woman he loved break down in front of him. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it.
As he walked out of the café and into the street, the cold air hit him, but it did nothing to clear the heaviness in his chest. The guilt clung to him like a second skin, impossible to shake. He kept walking, his feet carrying him forward, but his mind was still back in the café with Hana, replaying the scene over and over. Her tears, her trembling voice, the way she had looked at him with such hurt—it was all seared into his memory.
He told himself that this was for the best, that they were too different, that Hana would be happier without him. But deep down, Siwoo knew the truth. He wasn’t breaking up with her because they were incompatible. He was breaking up with her because he didn’t deserve her. He never had. And now, he had lost her for good.
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