The Day I Chose Myself

...Minseo...

“We are done with this. That’s it.”

It just took one sentence to shatter seven years of love, trust, and shared memories — love and trust that, as it turned out, only I had truly carried in our relationship. Those words hung in the air like a guillotine poised above my chest, heavy and unrelenting. Every laugh, every late-night conversation, every quiet Sunday morning we had shared seemed to vanish in that instant, leaving behind nothing but an empty echo of what I had believed was real.

I grabbed my suitcase, stuffing it with whatever little I could carry, my hands trembling with a mix of anger, hurt, and determination. I wanted to leave, to run from the memories, from the betrayal, from him — but as I found myself standing in front of our apartment door, or perhaps I should say his apartment door now, I froze. I looked around and noticed the place, once vibrant with life and warmth, had become nothing more than bricks and cement. A house, yes, but devoid of meaning, devoid of the love I thought we shared.

I glanced toward the living room, and memories came rushing back. The laughter, the movie nights, the quiet mornings with the sunlight spilling onto the couch — all of it played before my eyes like a cruel slideshow. The kitchen held even more: the countless meals we had cooked together, the small arguments over seasoning that had ended in giggles, the coffee we had shared while sitting side by side at the counter. Every corner of this apartment screamed of what had been — but every memory turned hollow the moment I remembered his smile. That smile, the one that had once been reserved for me, was now for someone else. Her. The one he had loved quietly, secretly, even while we had been together.

It took every ounce of strength within me to step out of that apartment. But I knew I had to. I realized, painfully, that the years of worrying about how others would perceive my decisions, the endless sacrifices I had made for the sake of a broken relationship, had been a chain around my spirit. Staying there was only harming me, and I had suffered enough. It was finally time to think about myself.

As soon as I left the building, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

“Hello, darling. Are you fine?” Her sweet, soft voice chirped through the line, warm and comforting, like a balm on a wound I hadn’t realized had festered for years. In a life where I had constantly doubted my choices and feared I could never get anything right, she was the one who helped me prove life wrong.

“I…” I faltered, my voice breaking slightly. “I have ended everything.”

I waited, though I didn’t know what for — an explanation, a comfort, maybe just a human reaction — but all I received was:

“I’m on my way.”

Those simple words brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t cried once when I left him, hadn’t let a single droplet fall when I severed ties with what had been my life for so long. But this… this was what I needed. Not questions. Not judgments. Just someone who could hold me, silently, and remind me that even when the world crumbles, there is still light.

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