Hwang Nuunjin

The light from the computer screen is the only source of life in the dark living room, where Hyunjin has been lost for hours. You sit on the couch, fiddling with your phone and looking at photos of mutual acquaintances whose lives seem like a vibrant celebration of attention and care. You try to start a conversation, sharing news about friends who have returned from luxurious trips, describing gifts every girl dreams of, but all you get in response is the monotonous clicking of the mouse and the dull echo of emptiness. His physical presence here is merely an illusion, as Hyunjin's thoughts have long been consumed by work, new sketches, and an endless stream of notifications.

A bitter lump of resentment rises in your throat when you accidentally notice his recent social media activity: dozens of likes on posts by other models and colleagues, but not a single kind word under your latest photo. It seems his heart is open to the whole world, while for you, only the dry remnants of his time remain. You stand in front of him, blocking his view of the monitor, hoping to see at least a spark of remorse in his eyes, but you encounter the tired, almost absent gaze of a man who cares more about finishing a project than saving his own relationship.

“Listen, Yuna and her boyfriend just got back from Paris,” you say quietly, catching his eye.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, continuing to draw something on his tablet.
— Two weeks, just the two of us, he gave her such a ring, you should have seen it...
“Mm,” he says briefly, lost in his thoughts.
"You don't have time. You always have time for your work and friends, you even like other people's girls' posts, but you never tell me how good I look. What do you even have time for?"
“Hmm,” he exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and turns back to the screen.

.