Next Morning
I woke up.
The sun filtered in through the giant window, casting lazy streaks of light across my bed. I blinked.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Usually by now, the tiger one would've already dragged my pillow halfway across the room and the Leo cube would be babbling at my closet door, pretending it's a spaceship.
But today… silence.
No giggles.
No thumping.
No little slippers tapping down the hallway.
I sat up slowly, blinking the sleep from my eyes.
Maybe they're downstairs.
I got fresh, ignoring the faint hollowness building in my chest. My hands moved on their own, brushing my hair, folding the blanket… trying to stay normal.
Trying to not ask him.
Because I won't.
I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly I've already grown attached to those troublemaking matchmakers.
But the moment I stepped into the kitchen…
Empty.
No tiny bowls with half-eaten cereal. No cubes climbing chairs. No milk spilled. No chaos.
Nothing.
I walked into the living room. Then the hallway. Then the side playroom.
Still nothing.
I didn't ask him.
I didn't want to ask him.
But the ache in my chest was loud enough to choke me.
Did he take them away?
Did he notice how much I adored them and now he's using that to hurt me?
Punishment for last night?
Punishment for not going back to him?
That bastard.
I bit my lip hard.
No. No crying.
Not over this. Not again.
But still…
My hands trembled slightly as I clutched the edge of the couch.
Where are my little cubes?
Where are my babies?
.....
Taehyung: "They belong to the zoo, anyway."
His voice echoed from behind me like a blade sliding in slow.
I didn't turn around.
I couldn't.
If I did, he might see it—that stupid glassy look in my eyes, the ache building in my throat like it always does when someone pulls the rug out from under me.
He continued casually, like it meant nothing.
"They needed to be vaccinated. They'll be well cared for. That's where they're supposed to be."
Supposed to be?
Is that how easily he decides where someone belongs?
Is that how easily he decides when something or someone is no longer ours?
My arms folded against my chest on their own. It was either that or crumble.
Not a single word before he took them.
Not a single question.
Not a glance.
He didn't even bother to say goodbye.
Just… vanished with them. Like they were a piece of the puzzle I was never meant to touch.
I didn't ask questions.
I didn't let him see the way my jaw trembled or the way my hands itched to clutch at something that wasn't there anymore.
He'll never know.
He doesn't deserve to know.
I was used to people walking away. But this? This cut deeper. I didn't even realize how much they meant until I came downstairs and the house felt so—
Empty.
Too still.
No tiny roars. No clumsy paws on the floor. No blinking golden eyes peeking from behind the couch waiting to pounce.
Gone.
Just like that.
He didn't even ask me if I wanted to say goodbye.
No closure.
No thought.
No care.
Maybe he thought I wouldn't care.
Maybe he thinks I'm like him.
Cold. Distant. Practical.
But I'm not.
I feel everything. I just never show it.
That's the difference.
I didn't speak to him.
Not a word.
He didn't try either.
Good.
I didn't want to hear that calm voice of his justifying everything with logic like he always does.
I didn't want logic.
I wanted the cubs.
I wanted to be told that they'd come back.
But they won't.
I know they won't.
And maybe he knows it too.
Maybe that's why he didn't say anything—because deep down, he knew I'd break.
I hate him.
I hate him more now.
Not just for taking them away.
But for reminding me that nothing stays.
Not even the things that curl up in your lap, or fall asleep beside you, or make your frozen heart beat again.
Not even that.
.....
I ignored him anyway.
I should be heartless.
Not attached to some wild animal cubs.
They weren't mine.
They were never meant to stay.
So why did my chest ache every time I passed their empty feeding bowls?
Why did the quiet corners of this house suddenly feel colder?
Why did I wake up still expecting little paws tapping at my door?
Pathetic.
I scoffed at myself, arms crossed, standing by the living room window where the sun used to pour in while they played. Now it just felt... vacant. Lifeless.
They belonged in the zoo, he said.
Where they could be cared for, vaccinated, safe.
Then why didn't I feel safe without them?
Why didn't he tell me before taking them?
I bit my cheek to keep the tears from welling up. I refused to let them fall. I refused to be weak for temporary attachments. I refused to admit I missed them more than I ever admitted needing anyone.
That's what happens when you start caring, right?
It gets ripped away without warning. No explanation. No goodbye.
I used to be good at this.
Good at being numb.
Good at pretending.
But those little cubs clawed their way into places I didn't even know were still alive.
And he—
He let them go.
Like it was nothing.
So I went about my day. Like always.
Silent. Cold. Distant.
If he noticed the storm behind my blank face, he didn't say anything.
Good.
Because I had nothing left to say either.
.....
It was late. The house was silent.
I sat in the dim kitchen, fingers curled around a warm mug I hadn't touched in hours. Just holding it for comfort, maybe.
Even that felt distant now.
Then I heard his footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Hesitant.
He stopped at the doorway but didn't speak. I didn't lift my eyes. Not for him.
Let him stand there.
Let him feel the weight of everything he didn't say… everything I felt but refused to spill.
"I didn't want to wake you up when I left," he said finally, voice low. "They needed their shots… they were restless. It was early."
I stayed silent.
He shifted. "I was going to bring them back."
My chest squeezed.
Liar.
"You should've told me," I whispered, still not looking up.
"I woke up looking for them like a fool. I walked around this house like a fool. You took something from me and didn't even bother to say goodbye."
He stepped in, closer, then stopped again—like I was fire and he was too unsure to touch it.
"I didn't think you'd get this attached," he admitted.
My head snapped toward him.
"Because I'm heartless, right?" I scoffed. "Because I act cold, so I must not feel anything?"
His eyes faltered.
"I didn't mean—"
"You never do," I cut him off. My voice shook, but not from weakness. From restraint.
"You never mean to hurt me, but somehow… you always do."
Silence stretched.
And I stood. Walked right past him. The scent of him, the warmth of his nearness — I ignored it like I never knew it.
"I'm not mad about the cubs," I said as I passed.
"I'm mad because I cared. And I shouldn't have. Not about them. Not about you."
His hand caught my wrist, but I yanked it free.
"No," I whispered coldly.
"You don't get to hold me when you're the reason I keep breaking."
And I left him standing there. Alone with everything he never said.
....
I left the house without a word—no goodbyes, no explanations. Just the echo of my own footsteps fading into the night.
I needed space.
Needed to breathe away from the suffocating weight of silence, of broken trust, of aching heart.
Each step toward my best friend's dorm felt like pulling myself out of a drowning sea.
When I reached her door, my hands trembled as I knocked softly.
The door opened, and her familiar, warm smile was the only comfort I craved.
I didn't have to say anything.
She just pulled me inside.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let the tears fall.
I sank onto her couch, the walls of the dorm closing around me like a protective cage. The quiet was different here—soft, not heavy. But inside, my thoughts roared.
Why does it hurt so much?
Why do these temporary attachments feel like chains wrapped tight around my heart?
I wanted to be strong. I told myself I didn't need anyone—no one to hold me, no one to catch my tears. But the ache said otherwise. The ache said I had already fallen, even if I tried to stop it.
I thought I was prepared for this. For being left behind. For loneliness.
But the cold sting of missing those little cubs—those tiny innocent creatures who didn't ask to be part of this twisted mess—was sharper than I expected.
I clenched my fists, willing the pain to go away. To be numb again.
But the truth settled like a stone in my chest:
I'm tired. So tired of hiding how much it hurts.
I wiped my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I don't want to be weak.
I don't want to be needy.
But maybe… maybe it's okay to be broken sometimes.
Maybe it's okay to let myself fall apart before I can put the pieces back together.
Because for the first time in a long time, I realized—
I don't want to fight alone anymore..