There was no announcement.
No dramatic "I'm done."
No deleting fan pages angrily.
It was quieter than that.
One evening, after watching a short clip, I suddenly felt… tired.
Not of him.
Of myself.
Tired of the routine. Tired of replaying the same kind of smile. Tired of imagining scenes that would never happen.
The crack that had started weeks ago was bigger now.
I didn't hate him.
I didn't feel embarrassed.
I just felt aware.
And awareness makes fantasy feel smaller.
So that night, instead of opening another video, I did something simple.
I cleared my search history.
Not because I was ashamed.
But because I wanted space.
I unfollowed a few fan pages quietly.
No drama. No goodbye.
Just… distance.
My phone felt strangely empty after that.
Like I had rearranged my room and didn't recognize it anymore.
The next morning, my fingers automatically typed "Seo—"
I stopped halfway.
Deleted it.
Locked my phone.
It felt ridiculous.
Why was it so hard to not search something?
That's when I realized how automatic it had become.
He wasn't just someone I liked.
He was part of my routine.
Like brushing my teeth.
Like checking the time.
And breaking a routine always feels uncomfortable.
The first few days were strange.
Before sleeping, my mind tried to replay old scenarios.
But I didn't feed them.
I didn't build new ones.
I let them fade halfway.
It felt like closing a book without finishing the last page.
Uncomfortable. Unsettling.
But necessary.
I told myself something very practical:
"He doesn't know you. He never will. And that's okay."
I wasn't angry at him.
I wasn't angry at myself.
I just wanted to grow up a little.
I wanted my comfort to come from something real.
Grades. Goals. Friends. My own achievements.
Not from someone smiling through a screen.
The weirdest part?
The world didn't change.
AURORA7 still posted content. Fans still screamed. Seo Juhan still smiled in new clips.
The only thing that changed was me.
I stopped watching.
And when you stop watching something that once meant a lot—
The silence feels loud at first.
But silence also creates space.
And I think, for the first time in two years…
I was ready to fill that space with something else.
Even if I didn't know what that something was yet.