"But I was nothing to her in the end. Nothing compared to what you all were."
Kyung Ho stood frozen, his breath shallow, unable to respond.
Amidst the turmoil and accusations that enveloped the room, Ji-Hoon stood apart, an island of quiet grief. The heated exchanges and shouts seemed distant as he made his way to the casket, each step weighed down by the gravity of his loss.
He approached Jiho's casket with a reverent slowness, his face etched with sorrow. The noise of the confrontation receded into a dull murmur as he reached her side. Tears welled in his eyes, reflecting the depth of his anguish.
Ji-Hoon's fingers trembled as he gently touched the edge of the bandage that covered half of Jiho's face. His touch was tender, imbued with a deep love and a profound sadness. He knew the bandage concealed the marks of her final moments, the wounds of a life cut short.
