Chapter 64: Distance and Desks

At first, I thought Do Yoon was too busy and overwhelmed with military life to contact me.

They say phones are allowed in the military now, so it’s not like before, but it’s still the military.

But there was nothing from him. A day, two, three, a week, ten days… Worried I was using the app wrong, I asked Hwang Yeon Seok. He blinked in surprise.

“Really? He’s been texting me fine… Maybe the internet’s spotty there?”

Checking my phone, he said the app was fine—Do Yoon probably missed or forgot my messages. I could only thank him awkwardly. Forgetting to reply to me? That was unimaginable. It had never happened before.

Just in case, I asked Yoo Hyung Joo, but he dodged the question.

“Why’re you texting a guy in the military so much? He needs to bond with people there to make life easier.”

His words sank my mood. It wasn’t like I was asking for hour-long calls—just five minutes of texting a day. Was that so hard? Annoyed, I snapped, “When you enlist, I won’t call you once.” Not much of a jab, but still.

Hyung Joo’s words weren’t entirely wrong, though, and I reflected.

Am I contacting him too much?

Living alone in this big house without Do Yoon felt lonelier than usual. Coming home to a dark house, no one to wake me in the morning, no one pestering me to go out on weekends—it felt empty.

As “Park Seung Hyun,” I was too busy surviving alone after my parents’ deaths to feel loneliness. But these past few years with Do Yoon, I’d grown used to our life together. I thought I was accommodating him, scared to be alone, but I realized I relied on him more.

It’s cold out. Stop moping.

With Do Yoon gone, the only regular contact was Ju Ria, who’d left for the States after the engagement. We’d become friends, almost comrades, encouraging each other’s futures. She’d often urge me, half-grateful, half-serious, to make a list of expensive gifts.

Time flew, but I kept reaching out to Do Yoon. For every five messages I sent, he replied once, if that—terse texts or short calls that ended abruptly.

“Do Yoon, is it tough? How was today?”

“It’s fine. I’m doing okay.”

“If you’re struggling or want something to eat…”

“Hyung, I gotta go. Talk later.”

“Huh? Oh…”

Every conversation went like that. Each time, my heart chilled, as if I could see his frowning face.

It hit me.

Who’s worrying about whose friend?

I laughed bitterly. Without Do Yoon, my social circle was pathetically small. But I had no urge to make new friends.

Sometimes, I heard his sighs through the phone. I hesitated more with each attempt to reach out, and he seemed to want exactly that, offering no response.

When he started college, he’d called me constantly during freshman orientation, almost annoyingly so. Now, he was like a different person.

Must be tough in the military.

New environment, living with others, bad food, missing the outside, wanting a girlfriend—I came up with every excuse for his change.

But he shattered my hopes.

“Tomorrow’s your first leave, right? Congrats! Want me to pick you up at the base?”

I called, excited, the moment his leave started. I’d been hyped for days. We hadn’t been apart for three months before—I was curious how he’d changed, eager to hear about his life.

But he groaned, as if my call was unexpected.

“Oh…”

His voice sounded annoyed. His reply was curt.

“Sorry, I’m hanging with friends tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. I booked a hotel, so I won’t be home. Don’t wait up.”

He hung up without explanation. Clear rejection.

“Huh…?”

Stunned, I stood frozen, phone in hand. First shock, then anger, then hurt.

Since when do you love your friends so much? Not even coming home?

Calling to argue felt wrong. He’s 21, hanging with friends—I shouldn’t interfere.

But was seeing me briefly that hard?

For all three days of his leave, he didn’t contact me. My suppressed hurt exploded. Ignoring the late hour, I called. After a long ring, his flat voice answered, background noise suggesting he was still out.

“You still with friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Where? I’ll stop by. You go back tomorrow, right?”

“…Sorry, hyung. I’m tired. Sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

We fell silent. As always, he hung up first.

My hand trembled, gripping the phone. I forced a scoff.

“Unbelievable, Choi Do Yoon. Acting all high and mighty because you’re in the military. I’ve been there.”

But my chest ached, as if clawed by something sharp.

The shocks kept coming. The next day, Seung Hee called.

“Hey, has Do Yoon grown that much in three months? Barely recognized him.”

My heart dropped.

“You… saw Do Yoon?”

“Yeah, for his 100-day leave or whatever. He’s heading back today. You saw him, right?”

“Y-Yeah… of course.”

Flustered, I lied, my voice shaking.

“Where’d you meet?”

“He was waiting outside my company. I bought him food and sent him off.”

“He went to your company?”

I shut my eyes, then opened them. I admitted it—this wasn’t just hurt; it was betrayal. A burning rage surged from my gut to my throat. What did I do wrong?!

“Didn’t he tell you yesterday?”

“No, he didn’t mention you… probably embarrassed.”

“Didn’t say much. Asked how you’re doing, I said fine… that’s it. What’d you eat?”

“Me? Just… something. Oh, my team leader’s calling. Sorry, gotta go.”

My heart pounded wildly. Do Yoon went to see Seung Hee. I recalled his cold rejection yesterday. The pain was searing. The rage in my chest reached my eyes.

But the real issue was deeper. I took a deep breath, locked myself in a bathroom stall, and thought.

The story’s starting to follow the original.

That would explain him avoiding and hating me.

In the novel, it starts shortly after Do Yoon joins Haewon Electronics. I don’t know his age, but post-military, post-graduation, maybe late 20s or early 30s.

If so, crying in a bathroom over him not meeting me was pointless. Fear trumped sadness. But stronger than fear was a crushing emptiness.

Was everything I did meaningless?

I’d been kind to Do Yoon to avoid the novel’s ending, yes. But that wasn’t the only reason. I genuinely cared for him, wanted him happy. If someone said this was inevitable because my intentions weren’t pure, I’d have no defense. But…

It’s unfair. It feels awful.

I felt like the novel stole Do Yoon from me. The gloom lingered.