We didn't talk about last night.
That was our thing—pretend silence fixed everything.
Hyun-woo left before I woke up. His side of the bed was cold, the blanket folded like he hadn't slept there at all. For a second, I wondered if I'd imagined it.
I hadn't.
At campus, I kept my phone face down. I didn't want to see his name pop up. I didn't want the pull.
It rang anyway.
I let it ring.
When I finally checked, there were no messages. That felt worse.
In the evening, I came home to an empty apartment. Relief hit first. Then something else—something heavier. I dropped onto the couch and stared at the wall, telling myself this was good. Normal.
The door opened an hour later.
"You're home early," Hyun-woo said.
"So are you."
He nodded and loosened his jacket. "Plans got cancelled."
I waited. He didn't explain.
"Did you eat?" he asked.
"Yes."
"With who?"
I exhaled sharply. "Why does it matter?"
He didn't answer. He moved closer, stopping a step away. Close enough that I had to tilt my head up to look at him.
"I didn't ask where you were last night," he said.
"I didn't hide it."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
He looked at me for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then he stepped back.
"Nothing," he said. "Forget it."
I hated that more than if he'd asked.
Later, when we were both in bed again—space between us this time—I turned on my side, facing the wall.
"Hyun-woo," I said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever think this is weird?"
Silence.
I almost thought he wouldn't answer.
"No," he said finally. "I think it's familiar."
I closed my eyes.
That wasn't the same thing.