Settlement ['Our story about Monday']

Dongjoo glanced at his phone as we stepped out of the cinema and said something.

"Want to grab a coffee before you head home?" I reflexively checked my own phone. 8:30. If I caught the subway now, I could shower and be in bed before 10. A sudden heaviness settled in my chest. Early in our relationship, he would have thrown his arm around my shoulders the moment we walked out and asked, "So, what did you think?" Now he was looking at me with the expression of someone who had just finished overdue homework.

We went to the franchise café on the floor below the cinema. After movies, eating at the food court or grabbing coffee here had become our routine. The place was packed. I found us a table while Dongjoo went to order. He came back a few minutes later carrying a vanilla latte for himself and a decaf Americano for me. We drank in silence. When the quiet finally became unbearable, I spoke first.

"So — what did you think of the movie?" He had, in fact, snored through most of it.

"Kind of hard to follow. You know me — I'm more of an action-movie person than an art-film person." A short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Dongjoo looked puzzled, then his face slowly crumpled.

"What was that laugh? Are you mocking me?"

"No. It's just — I suddenly wondered what I'm even doing here. That's all."

"What's that supposed to mean? We just had a perfectly fine time at the movies."

"A perfectly fine time? You slept through the whole thing. I'd been talking about wanting to see that film for months. How could you not sit through an hour and a half?"

"What am I supposed to do if it's boring? On top of that, I was in at the crack of dawn today. You're a freelancer — you wouldn't know what that's like."

"Why are you bringing up freelancing? And do you think freelancers have it easy?"

"Seriously, why are you so on edge today? Over one movie."

That hit a nerve.

"Let's end it." I said it with my jaw set.

"End what?" Dongjoo stared at me, blank-faced.

"Us. Let's end us. At some point you started wearing the same expression every time. I don't want to see it anymore."

"What expression? Explain yourself properly." He asked as if he genuinely had no idea.

"The overdue-homework face. Dragging yourself out to see me. No passion, no interest, no affection — do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be on the receiving end of that look?"

His face went cold.

"So that's what you've been thinking all this time? Fine. Let's break up then. And what about you? Always picking at everything I do, criticizing and judging me with that look on your face. Honestly, my life will be a lot easier without this."

I covered my ears and closed my eyes. Three years of our relationship flickered past. The day Dongjoo first confessed his feelings and I was terrified my pounding heart would give me away. The nights we talked on the phone for two or three hours until our phones ran hot and still didn't want to hang up. The warmth of his back as he carried me home when I was completely drunk. Somewhere along the way the conversations had dwindled, and our texts had quietly shifted from sentences to consonant abbreviations and emoji.

"Forget it. Let's settle up. Even if we're breaking up, we should at least sort out the money properly." I looked at him and said it. He studied me for a moment, and something seemed to register. This was really the end.

He picked up his phone and started tapping. Tonight's dinner, the movie tickets, the coffee — that should take about two seconds. What was taking so long? Then my KakaoTalk notification chimed.

February 2026 — orthopedic clinic

154,000 won

Aug. 25, 2026

Yeop-tteok delivery — 28,000 won

Sept. 1, 2026

Taxi fare — 35,000 won

Sept. 15, 2026

Brown tights — 3,150 won

Sept. 22, 2026

Dinner — 35,000 won

Movie tickets — 30,000 won

Americano — 5,000 won

Vanilla latte — 6,500 won

Total: 296,650 won

Your share: 148,325 won

He had kept track of all of it. I was speechless — but I couldn't bring myself to look up and see Dongjoo sitting there with that self-satisfied smirk. If I did, I was pretty sure I'd pour my Americano over him.

"I thought we'd settled everything as we went. I didn't realize there was still a tab." I glared at the screen as I said it.

"Right. Technically I should get the full hospital bill back, but given everything we've been through — I'm splitting it with you."

My blood pressure soared at that.

I had sprained my ankle at the ski resort because we were fooling around together and I fell. I was in too much of a daze at the time, but he was the one who told me not to worry about the medical bill. And now, looking at the itemized list, every entry started to sting. The yeop-tteok delivery — he had shown up late at my place, made a fuss about being hungry, and I had barely touched two bites. Even tonight's café tab: I always ordered a 5,000-won Americano, while he invariably got something sweet and pricey like a vanilla latte or an einspänner — and yet we had always split it straight down the middle.

I opened the KakaoTalk transfer screen and pressed each digit of 148325 one by one. Then I typed a message and sent it. His phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, and his expression shifted into something unreadable.

Cost of nursing you back to health over two nights and three days this past summer when you had a bad cold — including all the porridge I made

The hand holding his phone trembled slightly.

"Hey, Park Ji-yeon — what do you think you're doing?"

"Exactly what it looks like. You love keeping precise accounts of everything, so I'm sending you my settlement too."

"You think I've got nothing to put on the list? What about the time you got sick from drinking makgeolli at that pajeon place and threw up in the bathroom — I cleaned the whole thing up myself." Dongjoo's face flushed slightly as he said it.

The memory I had been desperately trying to bury came flooding back. But did he really think I was going to back down?

"Earlier this year when you failed your promotion exam again and fell apart — I took you to Gangneung and let you cry your eyes out in front of the sea!"

"Oh, and earlier this year when you didn't make the spring literary contest again, you called me and sobbed for three hours straight. I stood shivering in the emergency stairwell at work and listened to every word."

"When your mother had her thyroid surgery, I went and helped take care of her."

"When your father got scammed in a voice-phishing scheme, I was the one who went with him to the police station and helped sort it all out."

"And every single time we fought, I was the one who reached out first, you cheapskate!" The words came out louder than I intended. Heads turned toward us from nearby tables. The middle-aged woman sitting alone at the next table, who had been typing away at her laptop, had at some point stopped moving her hands entirely. Dongjoo lowered his voice.

"So how exactly do you want to settle all of that?"

I thought for a moment, then drained my cold Americano in one go. I stood up.

"Never mind. I'm leaving."

I could feel Dongjoo's eyes following me, but I didn't look back. Stepping out of the warm café, the wind hit the back of my neck and sent a chill through me. I pulled my trench coat tighter and opened my phone to check the subway schedule. Four minutes until the next train — I could probably make it if I ran. I adjusted the strap of my bag and started walking slowly. By the time I reached the station entrance, I caught a glimpse of the last car disappearing down the tunnel. The next train was in seven minutes.