- When their hands brushed passing papers? He flinched back too fast before catching himself staring at empty air where skin should've lingered longer.*
- Catching familiar scents on hoodies borrowed during rainy walks (his old ones never quite smelled right anymore unless worn by her).
2025 – Seoul, A Quiet Café Corner
The rain tapped gently against the café window as Choi Hyunwook sat across from her, his fingers tightening around the coffee cup—black, no sugar. Just like she used to take.
Seven years since they first met.
Three years since he’d ruined it all with a single reckless outburst.
He remembered that night vividly:
Her eyes—wide and hurt—as she turned away without another word.
His voice cracking behind her: "Wait! I didn’t mean—"
But silence had swallowed everything after that.
No more calls. No more late-night texts saying "Can't sleep."
Just… nothing.
And now? Here he was again—not as her boyfriend (he'd lost that privilege), but as someone begging for a second chance… starting with friendship. A cruel twist of fate when every cell in him still whispered "Mine."
Yet this time? She said yes.
Not because she forgave him completely—but because maybe even broken things could heal slowly if handled carefully enough...
But oh… Being near again?
It wrecked him daily:
One evening walking home together under streetlights casting gold halos over sidewalks lined with cherry blossoms falling softly between them both: “You always hated getting your hair wet,” came out quieter than intended, and just seeing how instinctively one hand rose toward head before remembering boundaries set firm months ago made chest ache worse than any rejection ever could…
Because while heart still belonged entirely to girl standing beside laughing at joke told badly earlier… Mind knew better: Some loves aren't meant be rekindled whole — only piece by fragile piece until perhaps someday soon those fractured edges might fit together once more... not perfectly... but enough.