Whatever the reason Cha Jae-woo had come looking for me, I was in trouble if he was here to pick a fight over feelings. Especially this close to my workplace — the library.
In the end, I brought Cha Jae-woo to my current place, about a ten-minute walk from the library.
The apartment I’d found after bolting out of Cha Jae-woo’s place wasn’t particularly soundproofed, but it had the advantage of being close to work.
As long as we didn’t end up screaming at each other, the neighbors probably wouldn’t call anyone. Probably.
I turned a warm cup of chamomile tea between my hands. The whole time we’d lived together, I had always preferred warm tea and Cha Jae-woo had always preferred cold coffee.
So without even asking, I’d put ice in an Americano and handed it to him — and he took it without a word. Though honestly, even if his tastes had changed in the meantime, complaining about a drink after breaking up would have been a bit much.
We ended up sitting across from each other at the table, a drink each. Cha Jae-woo seemed to find the warm indoors stifling — he shrugged off his padded jacket and wet his throat with the coffee.
As I stared at him, wondering what he was going to say, all kinds of thoughts drifted in on their own.
Why is he wearing a padded jacket in March when he hates the heat. He looks thin — is he eating properly. His face looks pale — is he sick.
All the kind of lingering thoughts an ex would have, so I kept them firmly to myself. Instead I asked simply.
“Why did you want to see me?”
It’s not as if Cha Jae-woo had even tried to reach out in the meantime — since the day I’d said goodbye, there hadn’t been a single call or message from him.
And yet now he’d shown up out of nowhere in front of my workplace. What on earth for? I was genuinely curious and waited for his answer.
“Ha Yun-su — why aren’t you picking up?”
I stopped for a moment, and frowned. That was completely unexpected.
Why aren’t you picking up — what, did he think that after eight years together and a breakup, we’d still be in touch like before?
On top of that, Cha Jae-woo’s words had a serious factual error, so I helpfully pointed it out.
“You haven’t contacted me once.”
At the response — even colder than I expected from myself — Cha Jae-woo visibly reacted. Reading the confusion that settled in his large eyes, I unlocked my phone and showed him my call log myself.
“See? Nothing.”
At the same time, I sensed something off. It had been at least two months since we broke up — and he’d come all the way to the library where I worked, claiming I wasn’t picking up. Something didn’t sit right.
“What were you calling about?”
Still, I didn’t think too hard about it.
Back when we were together, I’d have been working my brain overtime trying to keep the relationship intact — but not now.
One full season had passed since the breakup.
Winter into spring. It would be a lie to say I hadn’t felt any emptiness or loneliness in that time — it wasn’t quite short, it wasn’t quite long. But that was exactly how much relief had come with it.
To be honest, I was exhausted. I no longer wanted to spend more energy on Cha Jae-woo than necessary, no longer wanted to drain myself emotionally for him.
Feeling a wave of fatigue wash over me, I pressed my fingers against the corners of my eyes.
“Say what you came to say and go. I need to rest.”
“Ha Yun-su — did you change your number?”
“No.”
“Then what’s this.”
At Cha Jae-woo’s out-of-nowhere remark I paused briefly, then shook my head. Not sure what he was getting at, a hollow laugh slipped out — and Cha Jae-woo’s eyes narrowed.
“I just called you and it’s not ringing.”
Apparently he’d called me right then, because an eleven-digit number lit up his screen. And just as he said, my phone sat completely silent.
That can’t be right, I thought, and checked Cha Jae-woo’s phone.
“……Hey, this isn’t my number.”
I couldn’t hide the bafflement on my face as the laugh came out. The numbers looked similar at a glance — but they were different.
Eight years together, and he’s making some idiot mistake like getting his partner’s number wrong. What the hell is wrong with this guy.
“The last digits are different.”
When I pointed out the error, Cha Jae-woo immediately insisted otherwise. As if it couldn’t possibly be wrong.
“It’s right — the last four digits of your number are 5210. Your birthday, May 21st.”
“What are you talking about, I changed that ages ago——”
I caught myself mid-correction.
The last four digits of my current number were 1205. I’d changed it to match his birthday — December 5th — to mark the anniversary of us getting together.
Which meant the number Cha Jae-woo had been calling like mad was the number I’d used eight years ago.
To confirm it, I called my current number — and it rang normally right away. Watching the call go through, Cha Jae-woo’s eyes wavered. An involuntary hollow laugh rose up.
“Did you hit your head or something?”
“……”
“Or is my number just not worth remembering anymore?”
I was genuinely baffled and irritated at the same time, and the sarcasm came out before I could stop it.
He’d shown up two months after the breakup and grabbed me — I’d thought maybe he had something important to say. But this was all caused by a mistake he’d made himself?
Any desire to keep talking to him was fading fast. Just as I was about to tell him to leave, Cha Jae-woo said something I didn’t expect.
“……I was in an accident and hospitalized for a while. But you weren’t picking up.”
“An accident?”
I asked with a puzzled look, and Cha Jae-woo nodded. Now that I thought about it — the padded jacket in the wrong season, the gaunt look on his face, the pallor — all of it had been nagging at me.
In the end, I swallowed the urge to send him away immediately and opened my mouth.
“What kind of accident?”
“Apparently I got hit by a motorcycle crossing a crosswalk.”
“……What?”
“I don’t know the details myself. I think it was the concussion — I have no memory of the accident itself, and some other things too.”
What Cha Jae-woo said in that casual, offhand tone was shocking, every word of it. More than anything else, what stuck with me was the part about having no memory.
“No memory means——”
“I checked with my parents — apparently I’m twenty-eight now. But my last memory is the first team dinner after I joined the composition team.”
Cha Jae-woo joining the composition team and having his first team dinner — that had been right after he turned twenty. His team members had brought expensive alcohol to celebrate him becoming an adult and they’d all drunk together, he’d told me. I was sure of it.
So if what he was saying was true, Cha Jae-woo had effectively gone back to the time when he’d just turned twenty.
Since we only started dating after that — not a single day of our eight years together remained in his memory.
I reflexively wrapped my hands around the chamomile tea cup. Time had passed while we talked, and the half-remaining tea had gone completely cold. Like our relationship, which had long since cooled.
No — we had never been hot to begin with. I had unilaterally thrown myself into the fire alone. Cha Jae-woo’s temperature had always been lukewarm at best, cold at worst.
“That’s unfortunate. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
I said it deliberately cold, like someone with not a trace of lingering feeling. Because that was how I could hurt less.
“You and I were dating — and then we broke up.”
“……”
“What I’m saying is, we’re already each other’s past.”
It was unfortunate that Cha Jae-woo had lost his memory in the accident. And honestly — the fact that he’d lost every memory of our relationship along with it felt almost insulting.
But that was only something worth considering if I still had any will to continue things with Cha Jae-woo going forward.
I had already cut him off. I’d made my peace with the reality of not being able to keep him by my side, and said goodbye.
“……Says who?”
Cha Jae-woo’s cold voice cut through the quiet of the apartment like a blade. It sounded almost like a cry.
“Who decided we’re the past? Not me.”
Those pitch-black eyes, dark as a night sky, burned with a sharp light as they fixed on me. As if the entire responsibility for the breakup rested on me alone.
Cha Jae-woo seemed to want to hold me accountable for it, no matter what.
“Why did we break up in the first place?”
Was he asking why we’d ever started dating at all, given it hadn’t been some deep, consuming love?
Feeling like he was asking why we’d fumbled through something half-hearted and let it fall apart, I gave him a deliberately pretty smile.
“Because you didn’t like me.”
“……What?”
Cha Jae-woo’s brow pinched like that was the most absurd thing he’d heard.
I know. It shouldn’t have started the way it did. A belated regret — but it had already been eight years. Far too late to undo any of it.
I thought for a moment, then got up from my seat. I poured the cold tea down the sink and came back with a fresh cup of warm water.
If only a relationship gone this wrong could be replaced just as easily.
I knew it was a pointless thought, but I couldn’t hide the hollow smile that came with it. I let my lips part for a moment, then spoke like a quiet exhale.
“You had someone you liked — and I talked you into dating me, so you had no choice.”
Cha Jae-woo said nothing. In front of him sat the Americano, its ice long melted and gone flat. It was obvious he’d only taken a courtesy sip and hadn’t touched it since.
“So I let you go. Told you to go to that person.”
Cha Jae-woo remained silent. He probably knew who I meant when I said the person you liked. He had to.
Even after eight years together, Cha Jae-woo had always been quick to say he was leaving me for Kwon Tae-gyeong — so the version of him who had just turned twenty would have been even more so.
“So now — go to Kwon Tae-gyeong, the person you like. Even now, it’s not too late.”
That was the answer. The only way to make something right out of a relationship that had ended as the wrong answer all along.
Thinking of it that way, my chest felt just the slightest bit lighter. At least until the next words out of Cha Jae-woo’s mouth.
“……Kwon Tae-gyeong? Who’s that?”
