The dinner had finished and the group now lingered on the edge of the street, the night air full of the group's infectious chatter. Cabs pulled up in staggered intervals, headlights cutting through the group as people bowed and exchanged sleepy farewells, one or two voices slurring slightly with the evening's drinks. One by one, they disappeared into the back seats, doors thudding shut like punctuation marks on the evening. Soo-hyun and Min-su stood with everyone, ensuring they got in their taxis safely. Hyun-woo had already said his goodbyes to the group, opting to walk rather than catch a taxi.  

Seo-jin and Do-yeon waited a moment longer, watching the others go. When their cab arrived and as it made its turn towards the pavement they turned and said their goodbyes. Min-su took hold of her hand in a gentle handshake, as she came to leave, smiling warmly at her.

“It was a real pleasure to have worked with you.” He paused as if to get a read on her. “I wish you all the best for the future. I know it will be bright.”

As he let go of Seo-jin's hand, he turned to Do-yeon and lightly touched the side of her shoulder almost at arms length.

“You’re a good friend to her.” She smiled back at him, “Make sure she pays you back!” His smile broadened.

As he backed away from them, Soo-hyun stepped forward and dipped deeply in his bow, perhaps from being a little worse for the evening's free drinks. Do-yeon giggled at his formality.

The pair climbed into the cab's rear seats quietly, and as the door clicked shut behind them, it pulled away, the restaurant’s glow receding behind them. Do-yeon, a little unsteady from the drinks, leaned her head gently onto Seo-jin’s shoulder, her breath warm and even. The city slid past in soft streaks of light.

“I hate to say it, but I’ll miss everyone,” Do-yeon mumbled, her eyes closed. She waited for a response, but Seo-jin was looking out of the window at the passing streetlights.

“Did you hear me?” Do-yeon said, her voice quieter now. “I said I’ll miss everyone. Even Hyun-woo.”

Seo-jin’s gaze remained fixed on the city blurring by, her mind still stuck on the roof. “Yes. It’ll be strange to not have them about when we’ve been so close for all this time.”

Do-yeon opened her eyes briefly to look up at Seo-jin. “I think it’s best I stay with you tonight. I’m a little too... You know.”

Seo-jin looked down at Do-yeon on her shoulder, smiled faintly, with a gentle curve of her lips. “Yes. Yes. I’d like that too.”

She turned her attention back to the street, exhaled as she surrendered herself to the idea that there was a future without Hyun-woo.

The hallway door clicked open. Hyun-woo stepped inside, keys already in hand. The lights came on automatically—low, casting long shadows across the floor. He slipped off his shoes and slid his feet into the waiting slippers. The apartment greeted him with stillness. No voices. No movement. Just the hush of a space untouched.

The living room lay in quiet symmetry. A single lamp glowed beside the couch, its cushion still perfectly indented from the night before. On the coffee table, a glass of water he’d poured that morning remained untouched. He passed it without pause, as if it were part of the architecture now.

In the kitchen, he opened the fridge. The cold light spilled out over bare shelves — water, eggs, a lone bottle of soju. Nothing had changed. He closed it again, the hum of the motor briefly louder than the silence.

His bedroom was immaculate. The bedspread stretched tight, corners tucked with precision. The closet doors were shut, the desk cleared of clutter, the air faintly scented with fabric softener. Not a single trace of another life. He paused in the doorway, the absence pressing in on him.

He set down his watch, placed his phone face down, screen dark. Removed his jacket and folded it over the back of the chair — carefully, habitually, like a ritual performed for no one but himself.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t ready. He was simply there, suspended in the moment between arrival and anything else.

Through the cracked window, the city murmured. A burst of laughter from the street below. A car horn, distant and brief. Then nothing.