I still remember the warmth of Taehyung's arms around me, the way he would look at me as if I were the only one who mattered. We had built a life together, woven with quiet moments, laughter, and dreams. I never imagined it would unravel so quickly. But betrayal… it doesn’t come in the form of harsh words or stormy arguments. Sometimes, it comes in the quiet, in the most unexpected moments.

The night of the party felt like any other. Yuna, my best friend since childhood, was laughing beside me, teasing Taehyung about his new haircut. She had always been a part of our lives, our trio. We shared memories, secrets, and love. I thought it was a bond that couldn’t be shaken. Taehyung smiled at her jokes, his hand always resting lightly on my back. It felt good, safe—until it didn’t.

The drive back home was quiet. The hum of the car, the distant music, and the tiredness of the evening weighed on us. Taehyung was driving, his eyes focused on the road. Yuna sat beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. It was one of those moments when you feel like everything is in its place, like nothing could go wrong.

But everything did.

I barely remember the impact. There was a screech of tires, a flash of lights, and the world spinning violently. When I opened my eyes, I was trapped, my leg pinned beneath the crushed metal. Pain shot through me, but it wasn’t the physical agony that terrified me the most. It was the panic in Taehyung’s voice.

“YN… Yuna… hold on.”

I saw him, disoriented, blood trickling down his forehead, scrambling out of the wreckage. His eyes darted between me and Yuna, who was lying unconscious a few feet away, her face pale. And then, I saw it—the moment that changed everything.

He hesitated. Only for a second, but it was enough. He ran toward Yuna.

I watched as he cradled her, pulling her from the wreckage. The pain in my chest wasn’t just from the accident. It was from something deeper, something I couldn’t comprehend at that moment. He was supposed to save me. I was his wife. I was carrying his child. But he ran to her.

By the time he returned to me, everything was dark. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body giving in to the pain, the betrayal seeping into my heart.

---

I woke up in the hospital, or at least a version of me did. I wasn't in the room. I was floating somewhere between here and there. Watching. Observing. I could see Taehyung pacing the hallways, his hands trembling. He asked the nurse about me, but she didn’t need to say anything. The look in her eyes was enough.

YN is gone.

I saw the way he collapsed, the weight of the news crushing him. But I wasn't just gone. I had taken our child with me. The little life inside me, the one we had only just begun to dream about—it was over before it had a chance to begin.

He cried. I could see the grief, the remorse, the pain. But somewhere inside, I knew. I knew it wasn’t just grief for me. It was guilt for the choice he made. For leaving me to save her.

---

I flashbacked to the day we first met Yuna. She was vibrant, full of life, and she quickly became the sister I never had. The three of us were inseparable. I never doubted her love for me, nor did I ever doubt Taehyung’s. But now, looking back, I wonder. Did they ever see something in each other that I was too blind to notice? Was I always just a part of their story, a shadow to their connection?

I remember the day Taehyung proposed, the way he looked at me with so much love, promising me a lifetime of happiness. We danced under the stars that night, just the two of us. His whispers of love, the warmth of his touch—it was all real, wasn’t it? How did we end up here?

---

Back in the hospital, I watched as Yuna woke up, confused and scared. Taehyung was by her side, holding her hand, his eyes red from crying. I wanted to scream, to pull them apart, to ask why—why wasn’t he there for me? But I couldn’t. I was nothing more than a memory now, a ghost of the woman who loved too deeply.

I didn’t want to believe there had been anything between them, not in the way people talk about affairs. But maybe it was something deeper, more dangerous. Maybe it was the kind of love that stays unspoken, but lingers, haunting every touch, every glance.

---

Days passed, and I watched as Taehyung buried me. He stood at my grave, tears falling silently. He whispered apologies, promises he could no longer keep. But the part that hurt the most wasn’t the fact that I was gone. It was the realization that in the end, when it mattered most, I wasn’t his first choice. He would live with that guilt, I knew. But so would I, in whatever afterlife awaited me.

I would forever be the one left behind, the one he didn’t save.

And Yuna… I don’t know if she would ever understand the weight of what happened. Maybe she never needed to. Because the truth wasn’t that he loved her more. It was that, in the split second when life and death hung in the balance, she was the one he chose.

---

I loved him with everything I had. And now, I was nothing but a shadow, haunting the life we once had, watching him grieve, watching him try to make sense of a world where I no longer existed.

Maybe love isn’t just about who you live for. It’s about who you leave behind when you’re gone.

Taehyung’s pov

It was one of those quiet evenings, the kind where the world slows down just enough for you to breathe. YN had been acting a bit strange lately, a little more reserved than usual. She’d smile at me, but there was something behind it—something she wasn’t saying. I assumed it was work, or maybe the stress of everything that comes with being adults in this mess of a world.

I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through my phone when Yuna called. Her voice was bright, like always, but there was a shakiness to it. She was struggling with something, I could tell. I didn't need to ask much before she invited me over. She had a way of hiding her emotions behind jokes and laughter, but I knew her better than that. She needed someone.

"Hey, Taehyung," YN’s voice came from the kitchen, soft but hopeful. She had that look on her face—the one where I knew she wanted to say something serious, something important. But I had just promised Yuna I'd be over.

"Can we talk?" she asked, holding her hands nervously in front of her.

I looked at the clock. “Later, okay? Yuna's going through something and I need to be there for her. It won’t take long.”

Her eyes shifted slightly, but she gave me that understanding smile—the same one she always gave when I said I had to go help Yuna with something. "Okay, later then."

I kissed her on the forehead, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door.

---

Yuna was sitting on her porch when I arrived, her arms wrapped around herself. The usual spark in her eyes was dimmed, like a light struggling to stay on. She didn’t say much at first. We sat in silence, listening to the city buzz around us. Eventually, she opened up about her worries, her doubts. Her life was complicated, always had been, and I was used to being the person who steadied her.

That night, I stayed longer than I intended. Hours passed as we talked about everything and nothing. I didn’t notice how late it had gotten until my phone buzzed—YN’s name on the screen.

I picked up, feeling a bit guilty. "I’ll be home soon, promise."

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I’ll wait."

---

When I got home, the apartment was dark except for the dim light in the bedroom. YN was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. I could tell she had been waiting for me. She looked tired, but there was something else there too—something more fragile.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how late it got,” I said, trying to brush it off. I didn’t think much of it, really. Yuna had needed me, and Sarang always understood.

She patted the bed beside her, her smile faint. “It’s okay. I just… there’s something I need to tell you.”

I sat down, looking at her. “What’s up?”

YN took a deep breath, her eyes searching mine. “Taehyung, I’m—”

Before she could finish, my phone buzzed again. Yuna’s name flashed on the screen, and instinctively, I reached for it. It was like a reflex, something automatic. I didn’t even think about it.

“Sorry, hold on a second,” I said, raising a finger. I answered the call. Yuna sounded panicked, something about a work emergency. She was always dealing with something.

YN didn’t say anything. She just watched as I took the call, her shoulders dropping slightly, her hands slowly retreating into her lap. When I hung up, I looked at her, ready to hear what she wanted to say.

“Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

Her smile had faded by then, replaced by something quieter, something distant. She shook her head, her eyes soft but resigned. “It’s nothing. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

---

But tomorrow never came. I never thought much about that night. I never asked what she wanted to tell me. There was always something else to do, someone else who needed me. YN was always there, always waiting patiently in the background, understanding. She never pushed.

It wasn’t until after the accident, after she was gone, that I realized what she had been trying to tell me all along.

She was pregnant. Our child. A life she had been carrying, one I never knew about because I wasn’t there to listen. The doctor’s words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I could feel my world falling apart. I had lost her. And I had lost our child.

All the times she tried to talk, to tell me, and I kept choosing something else, someone else. The weight of that hit me harder than I could ever describe. The realization that I wasn’t there for the person who had always been there for me