In silence, you sat down alone leaning back on the fluffy furry white cushion, dating your 77th heartbreak into your diary but not before tearing that last page out, crumpling and throwing it into the rubbish bin. You headed towards the bathroom, staring at the neon pink diary recalling the day that you had bought it.

The sky had rolled into a blanket of gray and you could hear the distant roar of a thunder.
The sound of rain patting against the ground had soon entailed and you found yourself stepping into a shop decorated with Neon lights and a vintage chandelier to avoid the rain.
You exhaled a sigh, praising yourself mentally for finding a shelter with your quick reaction.

Looking around, you saw a neon pink diary with the title 'Forgiving him 77 times'.
Enthralled, you picked it up and wondered aloud to yourself:

"Why 77 times of forgiveness and not 33, or 99?"

The sales assistant had overheard you and told you the short summary of it.

"The short version of explanation says that forgiving him 7times is far from enough, seemingly flippant, and 70x7 is too much. I believe a normal patient person is able to forgive someone for hurting her 77times. Often, we need to write down our thoughts and the events that happened, to listen to ourselves. And that's exactly what this diary is for, to listen to your own heartbeat."

Shaking your head in a defeated manner upon your recollection, you left the diary inside the cabinet under the sink.

Walking out of the bathroom, you checked the time on the clock, and on it’s face, 2.15pm was shown. The small corner of your mouth was turned upwards even though your heart wrenched at the actions that you were currently doing.
 
“Jung kook should still be at work” you muttered silently to yourself in your huge empty apartment that only magnified the sound of your voice ten times louder, cementing the reality of the actions you were about to do and you wondered to yourself if you would ever regret whatever you did today.

Inhaling a deep breath, you picked up your sleek glossed black luggage, scanning the apartment, mentally taking a picture of the apartment that you had grown to love, a memory you never wanted to forget.

You memorized the white chesterfield sofa that was too long to fit perfectly along the wall where it was supposed to be and how it was quirkily protruding out and blocking the hallway by a slight bit. The memory of you always bumping into the end of the sofa left a small chuckle out of your mouth and you shuffled your feet on the mahogany floor, feeling the smooth textured surface against your feet, glancing onto the fridge that was filled with magnets, something that you and Jungkook had been doing for awhile now.

You finally tore yourself away from the apartment that you had grown to love, leaving only a slight trail of tears down your face.

When the sun went down and the sky is completely swallowed by the darkness, you had already received a total of 33 phone calls from Jung kook and he had left your voicemail full. You couldn't bring yourself to listen to his voice messages in fear that you’d go softhearted and eventually return next to his side, a thing that you wanted to avoid at all costs. It was a good thing that you had took a leave of absence fo