When our relationship started, I always held my phone in my hand. I was eagerly anticipating all his texts. We would talk about even the very minute details of our lives as though it were the most interesting things in the world. I would hang on to his every statement and treasure all his little stories. My phone would ring all the time whenever we were not together, and even those times that we were but couldn’t talk to each other because of the presence of other people.

My phone was our love’s lifeline. It was the first thing I looked for in the morning and the last thing I held before falling asleep. His picture was my background and I would stare at it whenever I felt down and blue, especially when work constraints forced us to be physically separated from each other. If you asked me what thing was it that I couldn’t live without, I would have answered “my phone” without hesitating. It was that important to me.

However the months passed by and reality was slowly setting in the blissful bubble of happiness we were in. I faced demanding schedules. Amongst the five of us, I was the busiest. I had my own art exhibition, I had to write and arrange our songs for our album, perform at our concerts and sajangnim instructed me to be on variety shows. There was no time for me even just to breathe.

When before I wouldn’t have started the day without texting him a “good morning”, I couldn’t do so now because I slept at odd hours and woke up when everyone else was asleep. When before it would take me mere seconds to fashion a reply, now it took hours at best, or I wouldn’t even reply sometimes. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him, it’s just that I have other concerns in my mind. He would text me “good evening” but my tired body can’t even reach for my phone now before I catch myself in my bed, still wearing the clothes I’ve been in all day, succumbing to the pull of my body begging for rest and relaxation through sleep.

I didn’t notice – or rather, I pretended not to notice – that the number and the length of the texts kept dwindling. I was hoping that this was just a slump.  Maybe he’s just giving me consideration, knowing that I’m physically exhausted all the time. Maybe he thought to give me space so that I could finish everything I needed to do to get back to him sooner. He has known me for 10 years now, he would understand the way I work right? But then I get a text, a text I unconsciously knew was coming, and yet was in denial about. It said: “Ji, we need to talk”.

The words are so cliché but they are cliché for a reason. When one hears something like that they knew what was coming and what would be the result. I knew it, but I couldn’t stop it.

And so I met him the day after I received that fateful text, in the café where we discovered each other’s feelings. I saw him at the table looking out at the window, looking idly at the passersby but not really seeing them. He then noticed my presence and looked at me and I could tell the difference. The eyes that once looked at me with adoration, now looked at me with steel determination.

I sat on the sofa facing him, placing my phone near the edge of the table. I kept my head down as I waited for him to say his piece.

“Ji, let’s just end this”, he said. “I just can’t do this anymore. I feel like it’s only me who’s working hard to keep this relationship afloat. You don’t have time for me anymore. I’m busy too you know, but I always make time for you. I’ve always been there for you but you can’t do the same for me.”

I wanted to rebut but when I looked up at him, I saw the tears threatening to fall down from his face. And I knew that if I kept him by my side, it would always be like this. I would always hurt him. I loved him, but work and music always came first. And that was unfair to him, because I was his priority but he was not mine. I almost choked when I was saying the next words that came out of my mouth. 

“Okay”, I said. “I’ll let you go. I hope you find your happiness”

He just smiled sadly at me as he rose up from his seat. I stared at his retreating back until it disappeared behind the swinging door of the café. I sat there transfixed and mesmerized, still not quite accepting what has happened.

A waiter came to deliver my food but accidentally swiped my phone as he was placing my order on the table.I apathetically watched as the phone fell. The waiter reached down to get it apologizing profusely for what he did. I couldn’t hear him though as my eyes became glued to the phone he returned to me.

The phone that was once whole and unblemished was now filled with cracks. The phone that I used to treasure and couldn’t live without is now a broken mess in my hands. Just like my relationship with him. Just like our love.