It was past midnight when Han Jae-min found himself outside the penthouse again.
He hadn't planned to come. He'd sworn, after Do-hyun's cold message, that he wouldn't. But his driver had asked for the address before he could stop himself. His feet had taken him to the elevator before his mind caught up.
The security guard bowed low. "Good evening, Mr. Han."
Evening. Right. As if this was still his home.
He typed the code into the door lock — the same four digits Do-hyun had chosen six years ago. The sound of the door unlocking still made his chest ache.
Inside, the penthouse was silent.
Too silent.
Everything looked immaculate, untouched — like a hotel suite. Not a single sign that someone lived here. No scattered papers, no wine glasses, no jacket over the couch. Just expensive emptiness.
"Do-hyun?"
His voice echoed back, thin and uncertain.
Footsteps. Then, that familiar voice.
"You shouldn't come here without calling."
Do-hyun stood at the top of the stairs, sleeves rolled up, hair perfectly in place despite the hour. His expression was unreadable, eyes calm — too calm.
Jae-min tilted his head, forcing a teasing smile. "What, am I trespassing now? Didn't I used to live here?"
"You used to," Do-hyun replied simply, walking past him to the bar counter. "Now you're just… visiting."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Jae-min followed, leaning against the counter, arms folded. "You really have a talent for making your boyfriend feel wanted."
"Jae-min," Do-hyun said, tone clipped. "We talked about this."
"Talked? You mean the five-minute conversation you had while answering emails?" He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, that was heartfelt."
Do-hyun poured himself a drink — neat whiskey, no hesitation, no glance at Jae-min.
"You're tired. Go home."
Jae-min's smirk faltered. "That's it? That's all you have to say after ignoring me for a week?"
"I didn't ignore you," Do-hyun said. "I've been busy."
"With what? The company?" Jae-min's voice rose slightly. "Or just… anything that isn't me?"
Do-hyun didn't flinch. He sipped his whiskey, eyes on the city lights. "You're overreacting."
"Overreacting?" Jae-min laughed, hollow and sharp. "You can't even look at me when you say that."
Silence.
The kind that suffocates more than shouting ever could.
Jae-min stepped closer, the air thick between them. "Do-hyun… if you don't want this anymore, just say it."
Do-hyun's gaze finally met his. But it wasn't warmth that Jae-min saw — it was something else.
Cold. Detached. Almost bored.
"That's not what I said," Do-hyun murmured.
"But it's what you mean," Jae-min shot back. "Don't lie to me."
Do-hyun's jaw tightened. "You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Jae-min snapped. "I'm desperate, maybe. Angry. Pathetic, even. But not drunk."
The silence stretched again.
Do-hyun placed his glass down, perfectly aligned with the counter's edge.
"Go home, Jae-min."
The tone was final — the same tone he used when closing deals.
Jae-min stared at him for a long moment, then let out a small laugh — the kind that broke something inside.
"Six years," he said softly. "You could at least pretend you still care."
Do-hyun's eyes flickered, but he said nothing.
Jae-min turned toward the door, heels clicking against the marble. Before leaving, he stopped — didn't look back — and whispered,
"Don't worry, CEO Seo. I'll stop being a bother soon."
The door closed quietly behind him.
Do-hyun stood there, motionless, until the elevator bell rang in the distance.
Then, he exhaled — not in regret, but in tired relief. He sat back on the couch, loosening his tie, eyes dull as he murmured to himself:
"Six years… it should've been enough."
He stared out at the night skyline — glittering, alive — and felt nothing at all.
To be continued.....