Yul
I trudge up the steps to my apartment, bone-tired and emotionally drained from being away for a few days. The weight of everything that's happened feels heavier than ever on my shoulders. I fumble with my keys, desperate for the solitude of my own space, when my phone starts ringing.
My heart drops into my stomach when I see Inha's name flash across the screen. Despite the rift between us, I almost always pick up when he calls. I can't avoid him the way I do Yena—I owe him too much. And he rarely calls unless it's serious.
A bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I answer. "Hey."
Inha's voice is calm, too calm. "Hey, have you heard from Yena today?"
I frown, suddenly on high alert. "No, why? Is everything okay?"
"She's been gone all day. I can't get ahold of her."
My chest tightens as dread washes over me. Flashes of the last time Yena went missing assault my mind—broken and bloody in that hospital bed, the light fading from her eyes.
"What do you mean gone? Where was she last?" I struggle to keep my voice even as my heart races.
"She went to work this morning like normal," Inha says tightly. "But she never came home. And she's not answering her phone or responding to messages."
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose as Inha asks, "Will you try calling her? She might answer for you."
As much as I want to refuse, the fear in his voice tugs at my conscience. I can't ignore the fact that she's potentially in trouble.
"Yeah, I'll give her a call," I mutter, already dreading the conversation.
I hang up and pull up Yena's contact, I punch it into my phone with shaky fingers. My heart pounds in my ears as the line rings. Part of me hopes she won't pick up, that I'll be spared whatever fresh hell this is shaping up to be.
But of course, she answers on the third ring, her voice like a punch to the gut. "Hello?"
I draw in a steadying breath. "Where are you? What's going on? Inha's worried sick."
There's a pause, and then a soft huff of laughter that sends a chill down my spine. "I'm not worrying Inha. I'm trying to worry you."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Well, you're succeeding. Where are you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she taunts. "If you really want to find me, come to this address."
She rattles off a set of coordinates, and I quickly type them in, my hand trembling. Every instinct is screaming at me to stay as far away from this as possible. But I can't shake the memory of her lying broken and bloodied in that hospital bed.
"I'll be there soon," I grit out, already heading for the door. "Just...don't do anything stupid, okay?"
Her only response is a soft click as the line goes dead.
***
I grip the steering wheel tightly as I follow the directions Yena sent, my heart pounding harder with every turn. The address leads me to a dimly lit park on the outskirts of the city. I kill the engine and stare apprehensively into the shadows cloaking the footpath ahead.
What the hell is she playing at? The memory of her cold, empty voice on the phone sends a shiver down my spine. I push it aside and get out of the car, steeling myself for whatever is about to unfold here.
The path winds deeper into the park, the trees closing in until I can barely make out the way forward. Just when I'm considering turning back, soft light spills onto the trail ahead—the flickering glow of lanterns.
My breath catches in my throat as I round the bend. String lights are draped artfully between the branches, casting a warm, inviting radiance over what I instantly recognize as the butterfly garden Inha took us to years ago. Delicate paper lanterns line the cobblestone path, leading toward the greenhouse at the center.
As I step further into the garden, a sudden flash of light catches my eye. A projector screen lights up on one of the walls of the nearby buildings, drawing my attention. I watch in awe as videos that seem to be ripped right from my memory play on the wall.
I see myself and Yena on one of our first dates, the way her eyes sparkled with laughter as we shared stories over coffee. The memory is so vivid, it's like I'm right back there with her. My heart aches as I watch us, the happiness and love between us so palpable it's almost tangible.
The montage continues, showing the moment of our first kiss in the rain. I can still feel the warmth of her lips on mine, the way my heart raced as we pulled each other closer. The video fades into clips of late nights in the dim light of our room, the two of us wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing for hours and whispering sweet nothings.
But it's not just memories of Yena and me. The montage shows all of us—Yena, Inha, and I, walking Inha's old dog in the park, the kids running ahead of us. I see myself playing with the kids, the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears. It's a reminder of the life we built together, the family we created.
The montage transitions to the day Seulgi was born. I see myself through Yena's eyes, cradling our tiny newborn daughter in the hospital room. The look of pure awe and wonder on my face is unmistakable. Tears of joy stream down my cheeks as I gaze at Seulgi for the first time, her little face scrunched up and red.
The images blur and shift, flashing through those first few bleary-eyed months. Yena and I stumbling around in a sleep-deprived haze, both of us completely besotted with our daughter. I see myself rocking Seulgi gently, humming under my breath as she drifts off to sleep against my chest. Yena smiling at us with so much love and adoration, it makes my heart swell.
We're sharing a quiet moment, the three of us curled up on the couch. Seulgi is lying on my bare chest, her tiny fist curled around my finger as she sleeps soundly. Yena's head is resting on my shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Seulgi's back. The intimacy and peacefulness of that single frozen frame is staggering.
The scenes start flickering faster, like someone rapidly clicking through cherished memories. Seulgi's first smile. Her first giggle as I blow raspberries on her belly. The three of us cuddled up in bed, Yena and I marveling at how quickly she's growing. Seulgi's first birthday party, her face smeared with frosting from her little cake.
Snapshot after snapshot of pure, unfiltered joy. All the little moments that made up those early years—the moments I'd treasured more than anything. Each one a poignant reminder of what I'd very nearly lost forever.
I'm frozen in place, transfixed by the images flickering across the screen. These aren't just home videos or photos—they're Yena's actual memories, projected in vivid detail. Which means she must have used a memographer to record them. The realization cascades over me—Yena remembers. She remembers everything.
"Surprised?"
Her voice is soft, but it still makes me jump. I whirl around to find her standing a few feet away, bathed in the warm glow of the lantern light. She looks almost ethereal, but the knowing glint in her eyes is unmistakable.
"You...you remember?" The words catch in my throat as hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Yena simply nods, her expression unreadable. I rake a shaky hand through my hair, struggling to process this revelation. Part of me had clung to the desperate hope that her memories were truly gone, no matter how much it hurt to be a stranger to her.
But here she is, laying bare the life we shared—the life I thought I'd lost forever. Every tender moment, every stolen glance, every breathless whisper in the dead of night...she remembers it all. The love, the joy, the heartbreak.
"How long?" I rasp, my voice cracking with emotion.
"Does it matter?" She takes a step closer, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "What matters is, I remember how much you mean to me."
The words hit me like a tidal wave, shattering the fragile walls I've built around my heart. I stare at her, utterly defenseless, as she closes the distance between us. Her fingers find mine, slotting together like the last pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
"Look at everything we had, Yul." Her voice is thick with emotion as she nods toward the screen, where our memories continue to play on an endless loop. "Are you really prepared to throw all of that away?"
I shake my head slowly, my throat burning with the effort to hold back tears. "I thought...you'd be better off without me," I choke out, the words tasting like ashes on my tongue.
Yena's eyes widen fractionally before her expression softens with understanding. She reaches up, her fingers gently cradling my face as she holds my gaze. "Yul, can't you see? I can never go back to the way life was before I loved you."
Her words slice through me, laying bare the most fragile parts of my soul. I start to tremble under the intensity of her stare, the rawness of the emotion between us.
"There is no moving on for me," she continues, her voice thick but unwavering. "Not from this, not from us. I would rather get through the difficult times with you by my side than face anything without you at all."
The sincerity in her words shatters the last of my defenses. A strangled sob escapes my lips as I pull her into my arms, holding her trembling form against me like a lifeline. She returns the embrace fiercely, her fingers tangling in the fabric of my shirt.
"I'm so sorry," I rasp against the crown of her head, hot tears spilling down my cheeks. "God, I'm so sorry, Yena. For everything."
Yena refuses to hear my apologies, silencing me with a fierce kiss that leaves me breathless. "There's nothing to forgive," she murmurs, her eyes shining with conviction. "Stop blaming yourself, Yul. You can fix this—fix us—by being with me. By letting me in again."
Her words are a soothing balm to the gaping wound in my soul, but the scars of my guilt still linger. Before I can voice my doubts, a familiar figure appears at the edge of the garden, drawn by the flickering lantern light.
Inha.
I tense instinctively, bracing for the anger and resentment that's become so familiar over the past year. But as his gaze finds mine, I see only understanding reflected in his dark eyes—a weariness that mirrors my own. It's not quite acceptance, not yet, but it's more than I dared hope for.
Yena seems to sense the fragile truce between us. She reaches out, her fingers finding Inha's and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Our new start begins here," she says, her voice ringing with quiet determination. "All of us, together again. Like it's meant to be."
Inha's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he doesn't pull away from her touch. There's a flicker of longing in his eyes as they flit between Yena and me, torn between the life he knew and the one he'd fought so hard to protect.
For a long moment, the only sound is the gentle trickle of water from the nearby fountain. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words, a lifetime of hurt and heartache suspended between us. But Yena's unwavering presence is the tether anchoring us, the promise of a new beginning we're too weary to hope for on our own.
Finally, Inha gives a slow, solemn nod. "If that's what you want," he says, his deep voice sending a tremor through me. "We'll try."
The words are simple, but they ignite a spark of hope in my chest—a flicker of light in the endless darkness I've stumbled through for far too long. I squeeze Yena's hand, letting her warmth and strength pour into me.
This is our chance, our opportunity to start over on new ground. To rebuild what was broken and reclaim the love that still burns bright, no matter how deeply I've tried to bury it. Yena is right— there's no moving on, not really. Not when every breath, every heartbeat is tied to the family we created together.
I meet Inha's gaze once more, and this time, I don't flinch from it. There's still a long road ahead, still wounds that need tending and scars that may never fully heal. If it means I get her, them.
"Oh, and you're also going to be moving back in. Like tonight," Yena says decisively, "We should have your stuff out of there so I can put the apartment up on the market as soon as possible."
I blink in surprise and then arch a brow, "You're telling me you're selling my apartment? Were you going to bother to ask?"
Yena shrugs once shoulder, unbothered, "It's actually my apartment anyway."
A startled laugh escapes me before I can rein it in. Yena's blunt practicality is so quintessentially her, it's almost comforting in its familiarity. "You're really not wasting any time, are you?"
Yena shoots me a look that makes it clear she's deadly serious. "Did you think I was going to let you keep hiding out there? Not a chance."
Her matter-of-fact tone makes me want to smile despite the lingering awkwardness. I glance at Inha again, suddenly uncertain. "But...are you okay with this arrangement?"
For a long moment, Inha is silent. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly as he seems to weigh his response. Finally, he lets out a soft huff and shrugs one shoulder. "I never actually told you to move out in the first place."
The do flinch at that. My throat constricts as I process the meaning of his words—that this entire separation, this self-imposed exile, was all my own doing. Inha never banished me, never shut me out. The distance between us was a chasm of my own making.
"Fine," I sigh, passing a helpless look between the two of them, "Well, seeing as I have no choice in the matter…"
Yena just grins at me, "None at all."