Jennie and Lisa have been married for four years, building what everyone around them calls the perfect relationship. A quiet date night forces them to face the growing distance that no amount of love can bridge anymore.
Bridge
by Jaewon
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The restaurant was the same one they always chose for anniversaries. Soft lighting, private booths, and the kind of wine list Jennie used to study for hours just to pick the perfect bottle. Tonight, Lisa sat across from her wife, watching the way the candlelight caught in Jennie’s dark hair. Four years of marriage. It should have felt like coming home. Instead, it felt like sitting across from someone she used to know better than herself.
“You look tired,” Lisa said gently, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over Jennie’s hand. The touch was familiar, but it no longer sparked the same warmth.
Jennie offered a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Long week at the company. You know how it is.” She pulled her hand back slowly to pick up her wine glass. “You’ve been quiet lately too. Everything okay with the new choreography?”
Lisa nodded, but the lie sat heavy in her throat. Everything wasn’t okay. It hadn’t been for months. The silences between them had grown longer, the laughter shorter. They still said “I love you” every night, still shared the same bed, but it felt more like habit than truth now. She wondered when exactly the healthy relationship they had built started to crack.
They ordered their usual dishes—Jennie’s favorite pasta, Lisa’s grilled fish. The waiter smiled at them like he always did, calling them the perfect couple. Lisa forced a laugh when Jennie made a small joke about the man’s obvious admiration. On the surface, nothing had changed. Underneath, everything had.
“Do you remember our first date here?” Lisa asked after the food arrived. “You were so nervous you spilled water on your dress. I thought you were going to run out.”
Jennie’s eyes softened for a moment. “I almost did. But you looked at me like I was the only person in the room. I stayed because of that look.” She twirled her fork slowly, staring at her plate. “We were so sure back then. That we could make it work no matter what.”
“We were,” Lisa whispered. The words tasted bitter now. They had fought hard for this marriage—the secret dates, the careful public images, the late-night talks about building a future together. For a while, it had been enough. They traveled when they could, cooked together on rare free days, held each other through every comeback stress and family pressure. A healthy relationship. Everyone said so.
But healthy didn’t mean forever.
---
After dinner, they decided to walk instead of calling the driver. The night air was cool, city lights reflecting off the Han River. Jennie slipped her arm through Lisa’s like she always did, but the closeness felt different now. More memory than comfort.
They found a bench near the water and sat down. Lisa leaned back, staring at the lights across the river. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she started, voice careful. “About us. About how we barely see each other anymore. Even when we’re in the same room.”
Jennie stayed quiet for a long moment. “I know. I feel it too.” Her voice cracked just slightly. “Work has been swallowing me whole. And you’re always in the practice room until midnight. We try, Lisa. We really do. But trying isn’t the same as living anymore.”
Lisa felt her chest tighten. She had rehearsed this conversation in her head for weeks, but hearing Jennie say it out loud made it real. “Remember when we promised we’d never let the industry come between us? That we’d protect what we have?”
Jennie looked down at her wedding ring, twisting it slowly around her finger. “We meant it. God, we meant it so much. But promises don’t stop schedules from getting longer. They don’t stop the arguments about who’s more tired, who missed whose important day. I hate how we’ve become… polite. Like roommates who still love each other but don’t know how to reach each other anymore.”
Tears stung Lisa’s eyes. She reached out and took Jennie’s hand properly this time. “I still love you. That hasn’t changed. I see you in the morning and my heart still does that stupid flip. But it feels like we’re fading. Every day a little more.”
Jennie squeezed her hand back, but her grip was weak. “I love you too. More than I know how to say. You’re the only person who ever made me feel safe enough to be myself completely. But love isn’t always enough when life keeps pulling us in different directions. I’m scared, Lisa. Scared that if we keep pretending everything’s fine, we’ll end up resenting each other.”
They sat in silence after that, the river flowing quietly beside them. Lisa remembered their wedding day—the small private ceremony, the way Jennie had cried during her vows, promising forever. They had believed it so completely. Now forever felt like a word that had lost its meaning.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Lisa whispered, voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to fix this either.”
Jennie leaned her head on Lisa’s shoulder, just like she used to. “Maybe we can’t. Maybe some relationships have an expiration date even when they start healthy. Even when both people try their best.”
---
They went home after that. The apartment was quiet, lights dimmed low. They changed into comfortable clothes without speaking much. Lisa made tea the way Jennie liked it—two sugars, a little milk. Jennie thanked her softly, but the gesture felt hollow.
In bed, they lay facing each other. Jennie reached out and traced the line of Lisa’s jaw with gentle fingers. “You’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” she murmured. “Inside and out.”
Lisa closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. “And you’re still my home. Even when it hurts.”
They made love that night—slow, careful, filled with quiet desperation. Touches that remembered every curve, every sensitive spot. Jennie’s lips on Lisa’s neck, Lisa’s hands sliding down Jennie’s back. It was tender and sad at the same time. They held each other closer than usual afterward, bodies pressed together as if afraid the morning would take this away.
But the morning came anyway.
---
The next few weeks passed in a blur of half-hearted attempts. They tried date nights again. They tried talking more. They even took a short trip to Jeju, hoping the change of scenery would help. For a few days it almost did. They laughed again, held hands on the beach, kissed under the stars like they used to. But the cracks remained. The silences returned stronger on the flight home.
One rainy evening, Jennie came home late from a meeting. Lisa had cooked dinner and waited, just like old times. When Jennie walked in, exhaustion written across her face, something finally broke.
“I think we need to talk,” Jennie said, setting her bag down. Her voice was steady but her eyes were red. “Really talk.”
They sat on the couch together. No wine this time. No distractions.
“I’m not happy anymore,” Jennie admitted, tears falling freely now. “I love you, Lisa. I will always love you. But this marriage… it’s draining both of us. We’re holding on to something that doesn’t feel alive anymore. And I hate myself for saying it, but I think we need to let go before we destroy what’s left of us.”
Lisa felt the world tilt. She had known it was coming, but hearing it still shattered her. “Is there nothing left to fight for?”
Jennie shook her head slowly. “We’ve been fighting for months. Quietly. Politely. I don’t want us to become strangers who share a house and a last name. You deserve to be with someone who can make you feel the way I used to. And I… I need time to figure out who I am outside of us.”
The words hung heavy between them. Lisa wanted to argue, to beg, to promise they could try harder. But deep down, she knew Jennie was right. Their healthy relationship had slowly, painfully run its course. Love was still there, but it wasn’t enough to carry the weight of their separate lives anymore.
They cried together that night. Held each other through the tears. Talked about how they would handle the public side, the friends, the families. Practical things that felt surreal. Lisa helped Jennie pack a bag for a few nights at a hotel. They kissed one last time at the door—soft, lingering, full of everything they couldn’t say.
“I’ll always be grateful for you,” Jennie whispered against her lips. “For the years we had. They were the best of my life.”
Lisa couldn’t speak. She just nodded, watching the woman she loved walk away down the hallway. The door closed with a quiet click that sounded final.
---
The apartment felt too big after that. Lisa kept finding little things that belonged to Jennie—a hair tie on the bathroom counter, a sweater in the closet, photos on the fridge. Each one was a fresh cut. She cried in the shower where no one could see. She went to practice and smiled for the members like nothing had changed, but everything had.
Jennie texted sometimes. Short messages checking if she was okay. Lisa replied the same way. Polite. Careful. The love was still there, buried under layers of grief and acceptance. But they both knew going back wasn’t possible. Not without hurting each other more.
Some nights Lisa sat on their old bench by the river alone. She’d replay memories in her head—the way Jennie used to laugh at her bad jokes, the way they’d dance around the kitchen making midnight snacks, the quiet promises whispered in the dark. A healthy relationship. A beautiful one. But not forever.
Jennie moved into a new place eventually. They signed the papers quietly, no big drama. Just two people who had loved each other deeply letting go because staying would have been worse.
Years later, they would see each other at events sometimes. Polite smiles, brief conversations. The ache never fully went away, but it became softer. A scar instead of an open wound.
Lisa never stopped loving Jennie. And she knew Jennie never stopped loving her. But sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is walk away, even when it breaks your heart.
The river kept flowing. The city lights kept shining. And their story, once so full of promise, quietly ended without a happy ending.
(Idk suddenly I got idea to create Angst - Jaewon)