6 years Later at Busan
Da-Hyun's life unfolded like a delicate origami—the creases of her past etched into her heart. After six years of separation, she stood at the precipice of adulthood, her dreams as fragile as the paper boats she once launched with Jeong. The national exam loomed, its weight heavy on her shoulders, but it was another kind of test that would forever alter her course.
His name was **Ji-Hoon**, a boy with a smile that could melt glaciers. They met in the hallowed halls of their high school, where textbooks whispered secrets and lockers held teenage hopes. Ji-Hoon was the embodiment of spring—a burst of color in Da-Hyun's monochrome world. His laughter danced through the corridors, and his eyes held galaxies.
They sat together in the library, their fingers brushing against worn pages. Da-Hyun's heart raced as they discussed calculus and poetry. Ji-Hoon's laughter was a melody, and she wondered if he could hear the symphony playing within her chest. They shared notes, secrets, and stolen glances. Da-Hyun fell—deeply, irrevocably—in love.
It was during cherry blossom season that Ji-Hoon confessed. They stood beneath a blooming tree, petals falling like whispered promises. His voice trembled, and Da-Hyun's heart soared. She nodded, her cheeks flushed, and they sealed their fate with a kiss—a fragile paper boat launched into uncharted waters.
But love, like the tides, was unpredictable. As spring turned to summer, Ji-Hoon's messages grew scarce. His laughter faded, replaced by cryptic texts and empty excuses. Da-Hyun clung to her phone, waiting for his name to light up the screen. But when it did, it was a dagger to her heart.
*"Da-Hyun,"* the message read. *"I've fallen out of love."*
The words blurred, tears blurring her vision. She collapsed onto her bed, the room spinning. How could love unravel so swiftly? Ji-Hoon's confession echoed in her mind—the cherry blossoms, the promise of forever. Now, forever was a cruel joke, and her heart shattered like fragile glass.
She cried—a storm that raged through the night. Her pillow absorbed her tears, and the moon watched, silent witness to her pain. Da-Hyun wondered if Ji-Hoon felt the tremors of her heartbreak. Did he know that his words were waves crashing against her fragile boat?
Days turned into weeks, and Da-Hyun's tears dried. She wore her heartache like armor, her smile a mask. Ji-Hoon moved on, his laughter now reserved for someone else. Da-Hyun buried her love in the pages of her calculus textbook, where equations offered solace.
And then, graduation came. Ji-Hoon watched Da-Hyun cross the stage, her smile a mask. He wondered if she still wore the necklace he had given her—the one with a tiny paper boat charm. Ji-Hoon's own heart felt heavy, its edges softened by regret.
His parents congratulated him, their pride a bittersweet melody. Ji-Hoon's dreams were painted in shades of gray now—ambitions that lacked color. He wondered if Da-Hyun had moved on, if she had found someone else to share secrets with. But the sea remained constant, its waves carrying memories and heartaches.
As ink met paper once again, Ji-Hoon penned his side of the story—a tale of love lost, of faded messages and broken promises. He wondered if Da-Hyun would read it, if she would understand the ache that still lingered. And perhaps, just perhaps, the tides would bring them back together—a fragile paper boat launched into uncharted waters.
Graduation came, and Da-Hyun's parents reconciled. They returned to Seoul, leaving behind the fortress in Busan. But Jeong was gone—abroad for his studies, a continent away. His name became a whisper, a faded message lost in the wind.
Da-Hyun finished high school at the age of 16 because she was intelligent and she skipped 2 grades. She was the Head girl (student council president) in their school.
As ink met paper once again, Da-Hyun penned her story—a tale of love and loss, of paper boats and faded messages. And perhaps, just perhaps, the tides would bring her back to Jeong—the boy who had once shared her secrets, the one who had never said goodbye.
*To be continued...*