The grand dining room was always impeccably set, each plate and utensil arranged with precision, as if it were part of an art display. The chandelier above cast a soft, golden light over the polished table, and the servants moved around with quiet efficiency, ensuring that everything was perfect. Everything was always perfect. Except for the tension that hung thick in the air.

Eunji sat across from Hiroto at breakfast, her posture rigid, her face an impassive mask. She picked at her food, taking small, deliberate bites without really tasting anything. The silence between them felt heavy, oppressive. Hiroto, in his usual way, tried to make small talk, but Eunji’s responses were short and mechanical.

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked, his voice tentative, almost apologetic.

Eunji didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she glanced down at her plate, her eyes tracing the patterns of the food she was pushing around. "Fine," she replied flatly.

Hiroto waited, hoping for more, but when no further words came, he let out a quiet sigh. He had tried so hard to repair their relationship, but the walls Eunji had built up were impenetrable. She wouldn’t speak to him in anything more than the most neutral tone, and she refused to let him get close. He couldn’t blame her for it, but it didn’t make the ache in his chest any easier to bear.

They continued eating in silence, the clinking of silverware the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. Hiroto had long stopped trying to initiate conversation. He could feel her distance, the emotional walls she had erected between them, and it was as if every word he spoke only drove her further away.

After the meal, Hiroto cleared his throat, looking for any opportunity to make amends, even in the smallest way. “Eunji… I know this isn't easy for you. I’ve hurt you in ways I can never take back. But if you need someone to talk to, please… don’t shut me out.”

Eunji’s gaze flickered briefly to him, her eyes cold and distant, before she quickly looked away. She didn’t answer him, nor did she offer any indication of how she was feeling. Her silence was louder than any words could have been.

As she stood and left the room without a word, Hiroto stayed seated, his heart sinking deeper into the hollow emptiness between them. Every day felt like a struggle—her refusal to acknowledge him as anything more than an "uncle," her avoidance of any kind of emotional connection. He had ruined everything, and now it seemed like he had no way of fixing it.

Later that evening, when the mansion had quieted down and the staff had gone home, Eunji found herself in the privacy of her room. The door shut tightly behind her, locking herself away from the world, from the suffocating expectations of the mansion, and from the man who had once been her only family.

She threw herself onto the bed, her body stiff with exhaustion, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She had tried so hard to stay strong, to maintain the perfect facade. She had worked tirelessly to become the ideal daughter, the ideal model, the ideal student. But inside, she was falling apart. And it hurt—so much—but there was no one she could talk to. No one who would understand.

The anger she had towards Hiroto consumed her every day. But there was also a deep, gnawing pain. The betrayal she felt, not just from him, but from everything that had been taken from her. Her life was a lie—a carefully constructed illusion that had been built around her. She couldn’t even remember what it was like to be a child without these weighty expectations, without being forced to be perfect.

The anger that had once felt so powerful now felt hollow, leaving behind an emptiness that she didn’t know how to fill. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to feel something other than the suffocating ache in her chest.

But she couldn’t. She had learned long ago to bury those feelings, to silence them, to become someone who would never break.

But tonight, she couldn’t bear it anymore.

She reached for her phone, her hands trembling slightly as she typed in the name of a therapist she had heard of through the grapevine. She had kept the idea of therapy buried in the back of her mind for months, dismissing it as unnecessary. But now, with the weight of everything pressing down on her, she realized that she couldn’t keep living like this.

She needed help—someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge her, who wouldn’t try to fix her but would just listen. Someone who could help her make sense of the chaos in her heart and mind.

With a deep breath, Eunji sent a message to the therapist, asking to arrange a secret meeting. She didn’t want Hiroto to know, and she didn’t want anyone else to find out. This was for her, and for once, she needed to do something just for herself.

The next day, when Hiroto came to the mansion for their usual breakfast, Eunji was already there, but her demeanor was no different. She was still distant, still cold. She didn’t look at him when he spoke. She didn’t answer him beyond the barest of responses. But something inside her was different—she was no longer trying to fight the way she felt.

She had a plan. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like she was taking control of her own life.

As Hiroto watched her, trying to make sense of the cold, distant woman she had become, he had no idea that Eunji was slowly carving out a space for herself, far from him, far from the lie they had built together.

She was no longer the broken girl he had hurt. She was someone else—someone who would finally face her own pain, whether he was there or not.