#cmh

And every time, I go. I drop whatever I’m doing, swallow whatever I’m feeling, shove it deep down where it can’t get in the way. Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done. I take care of him. I hold him up when he can’t stand on his own.

But what about what I need?

I lost my fucking girlfriend. Not once—twice.

The first time was when I found out the truth. When the ground gave out beneath me and I had to look my best friend in the eye knowing he’d been fucking her behind my back. Knowing she was pregnant. Knowing that the life growing inside her wasn’t mine. I remember how sick I felt, how my chest burned like I’d swallowed glass.

And still… I made the choice.

I stepped aside. I told myself it was the right thing. That they loved each other, that I was just collateral damage in some fucked up story that was always going to end this way. I told Jiyong he should be with her. I told her I wanted her to be happy. I lied through my teeth and let my heart rot quietly in my chest.

I did all of that for him. For my best fucking friend.

And for what?

She killed herself anyway.

That’s the part that keeps tearing me apart when I’m alone. The part I can’t outrun, no matter how loud the music is or how many drinks I pour down my throat. How could she do that? After everything? After I gave her exactly what she wanted—him?

Or did I get it wrong?

If I had stayed, would she still be here? If I hadn’t walked away, hadn’t tried to be noble, hadn’t sacrificed myself on the altar of loyalty—would things be different? Was I what she wanted all along? Or was I just convenient until she realized she couldn’t live with the choices she made?

And God—what if this is my fault?

That question loops endlessly in my head, a broken record I can’t smash. I’ll never get an answer. Not from her. Not from anyone. Not until I’m with her again—wherever she is now.

And while everyone is so fucking focused on Jiyong spiraling, crashing, destroying himself in real time, no one seems to notice that I’m grieving too. That I wake up with her absence pressing down on my chest so hard it’s hard to breathe. That I still reach for my phone sometimes, forgetting there’s no one left to call.

I miss her. I loved her. And I lost her in every way a person can be lost.

So I keep standing here, holding Jiyong together with shaking hands, pretending I’m strong enough to carry us both. Pretending I’m not cracking under the weight of it all.

But the truth is—I’m fucking drowning.

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