It had been four days since Bo-ra left.
Four painfully quiet, suffocatingly empty days.
I didn't realize how loud the silence could be until now. Every corner of this house—our house—feels like it's echoing with her laughter. The living room couch still has the indentation where she used to curl up after work, hair in a messy bun, ranting about some ridiculous client or asking if I wanted instant ramyeon or burnt toast for dinner.
She wasn't just here.
She was home.
And now she's gone.
I flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, glaring at the untouched TV screen as if it had personally offended me. Even the air smells like her shampoo. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man. A CEO. The heir to a conglomerate. I make shareholders cry and lawyers tremble.
But right now, I can't even make myself eat.
My phone vibrated. I snatched it up faster than I'd ever admit, half hoping it was her. Just another email.
I opened my messages and stared at our last conversation. It was a sticker she sent of a cartoon rabbit poking a bear with a stick, saying, "Cheer up, Yullie-bear!"
I chuckled bitterly. I hated that sticker. Now I'd give anything to see it again.
My thumbs hovered over the screen.
Yul: How are you?
Delete.
Yul: Where are you staying?
Delete.
Yul: I miss you so much, Bo-ra.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
What am I even doing?
I tossed the phone onto the coffee table and leaned back, running my hand down my face. I couldn't focus at work either. I was in the middle of a board meeting earlier when someone mentioned a "product recall," and I accidentally blurted out, "Bo-ra used to hoard those."
Everyone stared. My assistant coughed.
Professional.
Pathetic.
Grandpa came by this afternoon, of course. Because why wouldn't my life get more chaotic?
"Where's Bo-ra?" he asked, eyebrows knitting as he looked around the eerily neat living room.
"Ah... she's, uh... at her parents' place. Helping out. Family stuff," I lied. Smooth.
He squinted. "You didn't mess it up, did you, Yul?"
"Me? Mess up? Grandpa, please. I'm a Kang. We don't mess up."
"That's exactly what you say after you mess up."
Touche, old man.
Meanwhile, across town, Bo-ra was staying with Seul-bi. Her best friend. And the number one president of the I Hate Yul Kang fan club.
"I can't believe he said that to you!" Seul-bi cried out, nearly dropping her spoon as she listened to Bo-ra rant.
"He said our marriage was fake. That I was delusional. That I shouldn't meddle in his life," Bo-ra sniffled, hugging a pillow like it was a lifeline.
"That absolute cabbage of a man. I should pour soy sauce in his shampoo."
Bo-ra gave a weak laugh, tears still clinging to her lashes. "I know it wasn't real. I know that. But... I thought we were becoming something more."
Back at my place, I was lying on the floor now, staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers.
The dumbest part of all this? I didn't even mean those words.
Not really.
Okay, maybe I meant like... 10% of them. But not the you're delusional part. Or the don't meddle part. Especially not the our marriage is fake part. Okay, fine, I take it all back.
I was angry.
Angry at my mom. Angry at myself. Angry that Bo-ra saw the ugliest, most broken part of me.
I didn't want her to see me like that.
But instead of pushing her away gently, I shoved her out like a hurricane, wrecking everything in the process.
And now she's gone.
Even the coffee doesn't taste right.
Ping.
Another notification. Not her.
I sighed and stood up, dragging my feet to the kitchen. The fridge door creaked open, and I stared at the sad, half-eaten tub of strawberry yogurt Bo-ra left behind.
She liked eating it with chopsticks for some reason. Said it made her feel like a rebel.
I miss her.
Everywhere I look, I see her.
In the bathroom mirror, where her sticky notes used to be.
On the laundry rack, where her bunny socks used to hang.
In my heart, where I stupidly thought I could keep her at a safe distance.
I never stood a chance, did I?
I fell.
Hard.
And now I don't know how to get her back.
To be continued...