Chapter Five — You Didn't Even Notice I Was Gone
It was 6:01 a.m. when Mimi opened her eyes.
She didn't wake up gently like she used to — stretching under warm blankets, humming to herself, feeling the sun on her cheeks.
This time, she just... woke.
Eyes open.
Heart heavy.
The room was unfamiliar — small, a little cold, with pale gray curtains and a faint lavender scent that didn't belong to her. Aena's guest room. It wasn't home.
But Mimi didn't have a home last night.
She blinked up at the ceiling. For a moment, she didn't move.
The usual urge — to put on her lashes, gloss her lips, pick the cutest outfit — it wasn't there.
But she still did it.
Because that's what Mimi does.
She got up.
Tied her blonde-black hair into soft pigtails.
Sat cross-legged on the bed with her pink makeup pouch and began painting herself into something cheerful.
The shimmer on her cheeks.
The tiny heart sticker under her eye.
The juicy pink gloss.
It was all still her... but thinner. Fainter. Like a version of herself she was barely holding onto.
Her fingers paused over her perfume bottle.
She didn't spray it.
What was the point?
Meanwhile, across the city, Kijo's penthouse was silent.
Still. Untouched.
And cold — the kind of cold that seeps into your bones not because of the temperature, but because something is missing and your body can feel it before your brain understands it.
She hadn't realized how much noise Mimi used to bring in. Little hums while she cooked, the soft shuffle of slippers, the ridiculous giggle she'd try to muffle when watching phone videos at night.
None of that now.
Just the faint buzz of the fridge.
And that one sticky note still on the counter:
"You're working late again, right? I'll leave your dinner by the microwave! Eat well, okay? ♡"
She had thrown the dinner away.
But not the note.
She stared at it like it might say more if she looked hard enough.
It didn't.
She picked up her phone.
Typed. Hesitated.
Deleted. Re-typed.
Did you stay somewhere else last night?
She stared at the message.
Then sent it.
She didn't ask why.
She didn't ask if Mimi was okay.
She didn't say I missed you.
Because Kijo didn't say things like that.
Even when she maybe wanted to.
At school, Mimi was quiet.
She laughed when her friends laughed. Smiled when they looked at her. Nodded when teachers spoke.
But inside, she was somewhere else.
Her phone buzzed during lunch.
She didn't check it at first.
When she finally did, she saw Kijo's name and just stared.
Did you stay somewhere else last night?
Mimi held the phone in both hands.
The answer burned in her throat. So many answers.
Yes.
Because it hurt.
Because you made me feel invisible.
But she didn't type any of that.
She just read the message once... and again.
Then she locked her phone.
And placed it face down on the table.
Because replying to someone who didn't care was starting to feel like begging.
And Mimi didn't want to beg anymore.
That night, she didn't go home.
Not because she wanted to punish Kijo.
But because she couldn't bring herself to stand in that cold kitchen again. To lay out dinner for someone who wouldn't even look at her.
She curled up on Aena's couch with her pink fuzzy socks, hugged a stuffed bunny she hadn't touched in years, and tried to pretend it didn't matter.
She told herself she was fine.
Even though her chest still felt heavy.
Even though she hadn't eaten dinner.
Even though she kept checking her phone...
...hoping for a second message.
But none came.
Kijo walked into the penthouse at 10:17 p.m.
No light on.
No food.
No Mimi.
She kicked off her heels with more force than usual.
Her fingers ran through her hair.
And when she opened the fridge and saw nothing inside... again... her jaw tightened.
She didn't understand why it bothered her.
She didn't even like homemade lunches.
She didn't like glitter stickers on her napkins or dumb post-it notes with smiley faces or sparkly handwriting that looped hearts into her name.
Except now?
She kind of missed it.
She kind of hated that it wasn't there.
And maybe she hated herself more... for only realizing it when it was already gone.
She opened her phone.
One message.
Read. 2:14 PM.
No reply.
Kijo stared at the screen longer than she should've.
Then she set it face down and leaned back on the couch, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
And for the first time since their marriage...
She wondered if Mimi was done trying.