When Love Leaves

The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the gap in the thin hotel curtains slowly woke Frans up. His head felt heavy, a consequence of drinking too much last night.

He blinked his eyes, trying to recognize where he was. The hotel living room. The soft sofa now felt uncomfortable. Empty wine bottles were scattered across the table.

Then, his eyes landed on Calista, who was sleeping at the end of the sofa, her body slightly curled up with long hair sprawled messily.

Frans let out a quiet sigh.

They really went overboard last night.

Slowly, he sat up and massaged his temples. His mind was still chaotic, but one thing was clear: this wasn't the first time he had woken up feeling this heavy. Not because of a hangover. But because the reality was still the same—Viona had truly left his life.

Across from him, Calista stirred slightly, then opened her eyes. She looked a bit dazed before finally looking at Frans and giving a faint smile.

"You're awake?" Her voice was hoarse from just waking up.

Frans nodded, then glanced at the messy table. "We really drank a lot last night."

Calista chuckled softly. "Yeah, and you kept complaining about Viona."

Frans could only smile wryly. He had indeed talked too much about Viona. Even when trying to escape reality, his mind kept returning to that one person.

Calista sat up, leaning back against the sofa while arranging her messy hair. "So... what are your plans now?"

Frans let out a long sigh. He didn't know. Everything felt stuck.

Calista looked at him for a long moment before giving a small smile. "If you still want to fight for her, don't do it halfway, Frans."

Frans looked at Calista, then bowed his head. His thoughts were mixed.

But one thing was certain—he wasn't ready to give up.

Calista let out a soft sigh as she tidied up the messy table. Empty snack wrappers, finished wine bottles, and tissues tossed around—she collected them all into one plastic bag.

Meanwhile, Frans sat still on the sofa, massaging his heavy temples. His eyes looked blankly at the floor, his mind still in turmoil.

Without saying anything, Calista took her phone and ordered hangover soup—a hot Korean broth believed to cure hangovers.

Once she was done, she turned to Frans and smiled faintly. "I ordered hangover soup. It should help with that heavy head of yours."

Frans glanced at her briefly. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet until you eat," Calista replied casually, then sat across from him. "We really drank too much last night, huh?"

Frans weakly nodded. "I didn't think it would be this bad."

Calista chuckled. "But at least you're not alone now."

Frans fell silent for a moment, then nodded softly.

Soon, their order arrived. Calista quickly took it and placed the hot soup bowl on the table. The fragrant aroma of the broth filled the room.

"Let's eat first," she said while handing a spoon to Frans.

Frans took it without saying much, then started scooping the soup and sipping it slowly. The warmth of the soup felt comforting in his stomach, easing some of the nausea and dizziness that lingered.

Calista ate across from him, occasionally stealing glances at Frans, who seemed calmer than before.

"I'm not going to ask about Viona again right now," she suddenly said. "But if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Frans looked at her, then smiled faintly. "I know."

They continued to eat in silence, enjoying the warmth of the soup that gradually helped them recover from last night's intoxication.

After they finished eating, Calista tidied up the table once more, then stood up, stretching her body. "I'm going back to my room. I need to get ready for work."

Frans nodded. "Okay. Thanks for the soup."

Calista smiled, then grabbed her bag and walked out of Frans's room toward the upper floor where her room was.

Still feeling a bit dizzy, Frans finally dragged himself to the bathroom. The warm water from the shower helped relieve some tension in his body. He closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank for a moment.

However, when he finished showering and stepped out of the bathroom with a towel still wrapped around his waist, his phone, which was lying on the table, rang.

A message from his mother.

Frans sighed quietly before opening the message. But as soon as he saw its contents, his breath caught in his throat.

His mother had sent several photos.

Photos of Viona and Steve.

They appeared to be walking together, chatting with relaxed expressions, and in one photo, Viona was smiling broadly at Steve, as if she was genuinely enjoying her time with that man.

Frans stared at the photos in silence, an odd feeling beginning to creep into his chest.

Then another message came in.

"This is the woman you've been holding onto all this time? While you fight for her, she's happily out with another man. Embarrassing!"

Frans clenched his phone tighter.

His mother truly hated Viona. From the beginning, she never agreed with their relationship. And now, with these photos, she must be even more convinced that Viona was not the right choice for him.

But… was it true?

Did Viona really forget everything so quickly?

Did she really no longer want Frans?

Frans closed his eyes, his feelings becoming more tumultuous.

Frans threw himself onto the sofa, staring at the screen of his phone with a mix of emotions that were hard to explain. He knew his mother had never liked Viona, but this time, the message felt even more piercing.

The photos of Viona with Steve continued to flash on the screen.

He tried to calm himself. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Maybe Steve was just keeping Viona company. Yet still, something troubled his mind—the smile on Viona's face, which had once only been for him, now directed at another man.

He wanted to deny it, wanted to convince himself that Viona was just trying to cheer herself up after everything that had happened between them. Yet the image of Viona he encountered last night—so cold, so certain when she said they had to break up—still lingered vividly in his memory.

His phone vibrated again. This time, a call came in from his mother.

Frans took a long breath before answering.

"Have you seen the photos?" his mother's voice sounded sharp on the other end.

"Yes."

"Do you still want to waste your time on a woman like that?"

Frans fell silent.

"Frans, you know I never agreed from the start. And look now? You're fighting alone while she's having fun with another man!" His mother continued with a tone full of disappointment.

"Mom, this isn't your business," Frans finally replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Do you still want to be with her?" His mother scoffed. "Wake up, Frans. You have a bright future ahead. Do you want to ruin it just because of a woman who doesn't even value your feelings?"

Frans rubbed his face, feeling his head grow heavier. "I need time."

"There's no more time, Frans." This time, his mother's voice softened, but it was still firm. "You need to start thinking ahead. Look at Calista, she's still by your side. She's far better for you in every way."

Frans closed his eyes. Calista…

He knew Calista was the perfect figure. Since childhood, everyone in his family had compared anyone to Calista. She was smart, independent, and successful. She could stand on her own without depending on anyone.

But…

Frans couldn't lie to himself. Calista was not Viona.

"Mom just wants what's best for you," his mother's voice softened. "And I know, sooner or later, you will realize it too."

Click.

The call ended.

Frans leaned his head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room. On one side, he felt angry, disappointed, and hurt. But on the other hand, there was another feeling that troubled him even more.

Jealousy.

Last night, he had already let Viona go. He had tried to accept that he had lost. But when he saw those photos, something inside him refused to believe.

And now, he didn't know what to do.