Jun sat in his office, staring at the financial report on his screen, though the numbers might as well have been hieroglyphs for all the attention he was paying to them. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts that had been haunting him since he saw Rosel again. Over the years, he had mastered the art of emotional detachment, meticulously keeping his personal and professional lives in separate, airtight compartments. But now, those carefully constructed boundaries were crumbling, and no matter how hard he tried, he didn't know how to stop it.
It had been a decade since he made the decision to walk away from Rosel, a choice that he had rationalized to himself at the time as being necessary. He was young, ambitious, and utterly convinced that love was a distraction he couldn't afford. She had been like a sister to him, or so he had told himself—just a close friend he had known since childhood. They had shared countless memories, laughter, and secrets, but as they grew older, Jun felt the need to protect his future from the complications of a serious relationship. He had plans, goals that didn't include romantic entanglements, especially not with someone who had been such a constant presence in his life. And so, he had ended things with Rosel, coldly, firmly, telling himself it was for the best. But now, with a quiet sigh, he wondered, How did we get here?
Seeing her again after all these years had stirred something within him, something deep and unsettling that he couldn't quite define. It wasn't love—not as he understood it—but it was something powerful enough to disrupt the delicate equilibrium he had worked so hard to maintain. The way she looked at him now, with a mixture of coldness and hurt, made him painfully aware of the true cost of his decision. The night at the restaurant, the tense meeting, the awkward encounter in the pantry—they were all new experiences that seemed to chip away at the emotional walls he had built around himself, causing an unfamiliar stir within him.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he tried to make sense of it all. He had dated other women since then, immersed himself in his work, and built a successful career. Yet, none of that seemed to matter now. The past had resurfaced, demanding his attention, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the unresolved emotions that came with it.
Their recent interactions had been brief, awkward, and heavily laden with tension. The way she had shut him down in the pantry, her words sharp and final, had taken him completely by surprise. Jun was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of such cold indifference, especially not from someone who had once looked at him with warmth and affection. It was a harsh reminder of the consequences of his actions, of the pain he had inflicted on her—pain he had never truly acknowledged.
But what troubled him most was his inability to comprehend his own feelings. He wasn't in love with Rosel—at least, that's what he kept telling himself. But if that were true, then why did the sight of her, the sound of her voice, stir something deep within him? Why did he find himself thinking about her more often than he should, wondering how she had been all these years, and what might have been if he had made a different choice? The questions gnawed at him, relentless in their pursuit of answers he wasn't sure he had.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door. Daniel, his assistant, entered with a stack of documents needing his signature. Jun took them, grateful for the temporary distraction, but even as he flipped through the papers, his mind kept drifting back to Rosel. He couldn't shake the image of her from his thoughts—the way she had looked at him with those piercing eyes, as if she could see right through the facade he had so carefully crafted. And then, as if to twist the knife further, memories of her from the past came flooding back—the way she used to smile at him, her eyes bright with laughter as they chatted about random facts she loved to bring up. The contrast between those warm memories and the cold reality of their current situation only served to magnify the ache in his chest.
And then there was Rachel. Jun had noticed her interest in him almost immediately. She was attractive, confident, and clearly adept at getting what she wanted. But instead of feeling flattered, he found himself repelled by her advances. There was a certain desperation in the way she sought his attention, a boldness that felt more like a calculated move than genuine interest. It reminded him of everything he despised about office politics—the shallow games people played to climb the social ladder. Whether Rachel's interest was driven by real feelings or just a fleeting moment of attraction, he was not the least bit interested in playing along.
Rachel's behavior only served to highlight what he had lost with Rosel. There was no warmth in Rachel's eyes, no genuine connection. It was all surface-level, and for the first time in years, Jun found himself longing for something deeper, something real. He didn't want to admit it, but Rosel had been the last person he felt truly connected to, and he had let that connection slip through his fingers for reasons that now seemed foolish and shortsighted.
As he stared blankly at the documents in front of him, Jun felt a sharp pang of regret. He had rejected Rosel ten years ago, fully convinced that he was making the right choice for his future. But now, as he looked back on that decision, he realized that the future he had envisioned was empty without someone to share it with. He had everything he thought he wanted—success, power, respect—but it all felt hollow in the face of what he had lost. Rosel had been more than just a friend, more than just a sister figure, and it was only now, after seeing her again, that he truly understood the depth of his mistake.
But was it love? He wasn't sure. He had spent so long convincing himself that love wasn't meant for him, that he couldn't even recognize it if it were staring him in the face. All he knew was that Rosel had meant more to him than he had ever allowed himself to acknowledge, and seeing her again had reopened old wounds he had thought were long healed. Those wounds, however, were far from healed—they were raw, bleeding, and impossible to ignore.
Jun sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair as he struggled to sort through his conflicting emotions. He wasn't ready to confront Rosel, wasn't even sure if he could. But he couldn't keep avoiding her either. The tension between them was growing, and it was only a matter of time before it reached a breaking point—one that he wasn't sure he was prepared to face.
As he sat there, alone in his office, Jun realized with a sinking feeling that he had made a grave mistake all those years ago. He had walked away from someone who had truly cared for him, and in doing so, he had lost something precious—something he could never replace. Whether he could ever get it back, or if he even deserved to, was a question that haunted him, one that he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.
But one thing was certain—Rosel wasn't just another face from his past. She was someone who had mattered, someone who still mattered deeply. And now, as he faced the consequences of his actions, he couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to make things right.
For the first time in his life, Jun wasn't sure what the future held. And that uncertainty, more than anything, was what frightened him the most. As he looked out at the darkening sky through the window, the weight of his regrets pressing heavily on him, he muttered under his breath, "I missed you. I still do."