BGM- Sleepless Night

“No, Jongdae. You cheated on me. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in high school anymore. You can’t just make mistakes and move on like nothing happened,” I know she’s trying her best not to cry, but her hands betrayed her. They were trembling, and all I wanted to do was hold them—hold her—until the pain goes away.

I reached out to touch her hand but stopped myself, letting it fall to my side. She looked at me like she was disgusted. I looked away, disgusted at myself. How did we get here? How did everything go so suddenly wrong?

“Every time I look at you, I want to trust you. I want to believe you. But I can’t. I just can’t.” Her voice broke, and the cold exterior crumbled. She looked so broken, so lost.

“Every time I see you, I see her. Do you know how painful that is? I can’t even look at you without feeling my heart being stabbed, over and over again.” She sobbed, tears streaking her face as she fell on the ground, pounding her fist over her chest again and again.

I couldn’t take it anymore. She was hurting herself. I picked her off the floor, took her clenched fist and loosened it, finger by finger. I hugged her, willing her to feel how sorry I was, willing her to transfer the pain to me. She resisted, squirming and hitting my chest even as I held her tighter. I felt her hits weaken as she quickly exhausted herself, hitting, squirming, shouting, crying. She sagged against me, defeated, as she sobbed quietly. She let me bring her to our bedroom, closing her eyes as I tucked her into the blanket. Soon, she was asleep.

I ran a hand through my hair, sitting down on the edge of the bed. It’s not that I didn’t love her anymore. I love her—more than life, more than the next breath I took. But I let things go out of control.

I let the memories wash over me, feeling my chest tighten at the thought of losing it all. I still remember seeing her for the first time, the new transfer student. I knew even then that she was the one. She was quiet, and she didn’t seem to feel the need to belong to a clique. She sat by the window, looking out at something far away. I remember every detail from seven years ago like it was yesterday—the way the sunlight hit her eyes so it looked almost hazel, the way the wind blew gently so she had to tuck her hair behind her ear every few minutes. She was breathtaking. Still is.

I can’t help but laugh, remembering how desperate I became when she ignored all my attempts to woo her. She didn’t even bat an eyelash. I should’ve realized then how precious her heart was. She didn’t give it away easily, but when she did, she held nothing back. She loved with all of her being. I felt my throat swell, tears dropping down the carpet. I don’t deserve her.

-

It was a moment of weakness. I knew that woman was trouble—she was too nice, too close, too revealing. But I told myself I could handle it: I know where my heart belongs. I’m married, and I made sure the woman saw my wedding band every day. How stupid of me to think a ring could keep her away. She was determined to get me. She often dropped by my office, making small talk, being friendly. She really was nice, and she was a no-nonsense kind of woman when she worked. I started forgetting my initial doubts about her, thinking that I was probably being too cautious for no reason. That was the first of a chain of mistakes that linked together, snaking around me, suffocating me before I realized what was happening.

She started buying lunch for the two of us, excusing it to be part of work, visiting my office regularly. Something about it was vaguely wrong, but I couldn’t find a reason to refuse, so I let her. I let her get away with a lot of things I shouldn’t have. She made sure our hands always touched when handling documents; she rubbed her legs against mine under the table on meetings; she bent down so I could see things I shouldn’t. It spiraled out of control—I was being tempted, and I was succumbing.

Then, that day happened. She brought in lunch, as usual, saying there were things we needed to work on. I didn’t look up—didn’t have time to, before she bent down, and kissed me hard. I wanted to push her away, but it seemed like I didn’t have the power to refuse. I was lusting for her, and she knew it. It felt like someone’s possessed my mind and my body. A loud thud woke me up from my sluggish trance. I immediately pushed the woman away, only to see my wife standing by the door, hurt and disbelief in her eyes. She ran before I could think to follow her and explain. But what was there to explain?

-

I’ve never fallen for anyone before her—she was my first, and she will be my last. I scooted over so I was fully sitting on my side of the bed. “I’m sorry for doing this to you,” I whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I know you won’t believe me, but I love you. I love you so, so much. I never wanted this to happen.” I felt a sob bubbling up my throat, and tears started falling. No matter how hard I tried to keep quiet, I couldn’t suppress the wracking sobs that consumed my body. I left the bed as quietly as I could and locked myself in the bathroom. I don’t even deserve to be crying. But I’m selfish. I’ve been selfish the whole time.

When I went out of the bathroom, she was already packing, a determined look in her eyes. I wanted to stop her, to tell her to give me another chance, to tell her to stay. But I didn’t. I watched her as she slowly removed parts of herself from the bedroom, from our life together.

“I…” My voice faded into nothing. I don’t know what to say to make everything better—anything better.

“Jongdae. I’d be lying to the whole world if I told you I didn’t love you. I love you. I love you. I love you,” she repeated, her eyes started watering again.

“I love you, but I don’t know if I could ever trust you again.” She took in a sharp breath as if she was in physical pain. She zipped up her bag and moved towards the door.

I reached out and grabbed her from behind, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry.” I heard the pain in my own voice.

She only nodded. “Me too.”

We stayed like that for a while, crying as separate entities, crying as one being.

Then I let her go.

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