oneshort Chaennie

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The clock ticked past 9:00 PM. The apartment was dim except for the flickering light from the TV.

Jennie dropped her bag by the door with a loud thud. Her heels came off with frustration, and her shoulders slumped as the exhaustion of another brutal workday sank into her bones.

She glanced at the living room. There he was—Chaeyoung—sitting on the couch in the same position she had seen him in that morning.

Same clothes. Same blanket. Same lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

The coffee table was cluttered with empty snack packets and soda cans. The dishes from yesterday were still in the sink.

Her blood boiled.

She walked into the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up a spoon from the sink, staring at it like it had personally offended her.

“Seriously?” she muttered under her breath.

Chaeyoung, oblivious or ignoring her presence, continued watching TV like nothing was wrong.

Jennie couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you even realize how pathetic this looks?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Chaeyoung blinked, slowly turning to her. “What are you talking about?”

“You, Chaeyoung. This!” She gestured around the apartment. “This is what my life looks like now. I go out, work all day, get insulted by clients, beg for deadlines to be extended, all while you sit here like some... some ghost!”

“I’m not a ghost,” he said quietly.

“No?” she scoffed, arms crossed tightly. “Because that’s what it feels like. Like I’m living with a shell of a man. You haven’t worked in eleven months, Chaeyoung. Do you even remember what ambition looks like? Or have you gotten too comfortable being dead weight?”

That word hit him like a slap.

He sat up straighter, but didn’t reply.

Jennie continued, her voice cracking with rage, but also grief. “I’m exhausted. Physically, emotionally. And you just sit here. Like the world doesn’t expect anything from you. Like I don’t expect anything from you.”

“I told you I’ve been trying—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Trying? Trying what? You sent out a few resumes six months ago and then gave up! That’s not trying, that’s quitting. And you’ve done nothing since then. Nothing but drag me down with you!”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if he was going to say something—but no words came out.

Jennie’s voice grew louder. “Do you even know what it feels like to come home every night and see you exactly where I left you? No progress. No purpose. Just… useless.”

That one crushed him.

Still, he didn’t defend himself.

And Jennie, full of pain she hadn’t let out in months, kept going.

“I regret letting you into my life sometimes,” she whispered, and even she didn’t realize how deep that cut would be. “I regret falling for someone who had so much potential but gave up the moment life got hard. You used to dream so big. Now you just sleep in.”

Her own words began to echo back to her. Dead weight. Useless. Regret.

She saw something shift in his eyes.