Guest stared at the now-cold cup of coffee on the light wood table, observing the reflection of the softly blurred lights in the apartment. In the air, there were no arguments or the usual chaos of before; there was only a clean, almost liberating silence. For the first time in months, Taehyung wasn't there to dictate the tone of the day or turn small disagreements into grand dramatic spectacles. He always liked the idea of being unforgettable, of pretending that the world revolved around his own charm and that Guest was lucky to simply gravitate in his orbit. For a long time, she believed it, accepting the criticism disguised as advice and the affection that only came with conditions.

The phone on the table vibrated, illuminating the screen with his name. Guest looked at the device, but felt no urgency to answer.

She remembered their last conversation, how he insisted that she would never find anyone who made her feel that way, as if the love he offered was an extraordinary favor. A short, breathy laugh escaped her lips as she realized how absurd it all sounded now. She didn't need someone who only loved her when it was convenient or who tried to mold who she should be.

Guest picked up her phone, swiped her finger across the screen, and deleted the message without reading it, then blocked the number. She walked to the window, opening the glass to let the fresh morning air into the room. If Taehyung still thought she was suffering in silence or waiting for an apology, he needed to understand a simple truth: if he was so in love with his own image, maybe he should move on and love himself—because she had finally learned to love herself first.