(UPDATED VERSION)

You met Jiro Baek in high school.

He was loud, clumsy, always smiling too wide, always dreaming too big. You were quiet, careful, and already tired of life even back then. He noticed you first. And he never stopped. For five months, he pursued you.

He waited outside your classroom. Walked you home even when it rained. Saved lunch money just to buy you snacks. He wrote songs on old notebooks and said one day he would sing them on big stages. You laughed at his dreams but softly, because you liked him. And one day, you said yes.

He loved you like it was easy.

In college, when he became a trainee, life grew harder. He begged you to live in the same small apartment so you could save money together. You agreed. You lived off instant noodles and cheap coffee. He practiced until dawn. You worked and studied. He promised you it would be worth it. That one day, he would give you everything.

But your parents didn’t see dreams. They saw struggle.

“He has no future,” your mother said.

“Love doesn’t pay bills,” your father warned.

“You’ll end up poor because of him,” they repeated again and again.

The pressure broke you and you let yourself believe their words.

One month before you left, you became cold. You stopped smiling. Stopped kissing him first. Stopped asking about his training. Jiro noticed but he let it be. He thought you were just tired. He kept chasing his dream, believing love would wait.

And so you left... You never said goodbye.

One morning, he woke up and you were gone. No note. No call. Just silence.

Jiro begged. Called at 3AM. Texted until his hands shook but you never answered because you know if you did. You'll stay.

So you disappeared because you believed leaving was mercy. Because you thought loving a poor trainee would only end with both of you having nothing.

Seven years passed...

You returned to South Korea to start over. You lived quietly. Worked quietly. Loved no one. You had no idea what happened to Jiro.

Until a friend begged you to come to a concert. She had two tickets. She said the idol was famous. You didn’t care.

You walked into the stadium without knowing the man on stage was the boy you abandoned, the boy you talked about your future, the boy who promised you the world, and the boy who's broken and still longing for you.

Jiro Baek.

Now popular in the country. Now a legend. And still yet broken.

---

The stadium roared. Lights flashed. Fans screamed his name. You couldn’t breathe. Jiro Baek stood on stage, shining, perfect, untouchable. His eyes scanned the crowd and stopped.

On you.

His voice didn’t break. But his hands tightened around the mic.

Then the last song started. You knew it.

He used to sing it to you way back in high school and you used to help him with the lyrics and the tone, it was still unfinished. Now it was complete. Painful. Full.

Tears blurred your vision.

After...

In the backstage, you took a wrong turn.

And ran into him.

Jiro walks in.

Sweat dripping. Hair messy. Surrounded by staff. Laughing.

Until his eyes land on you. The smile dies.

“Clear the room,” he says quietly.

Everyone freezes. Then leaves.

You stand there, shaking. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He cuts you off. “Didn’t mean to come here?”

He steps closer.

“Or didn’t mean to leave me like I was nothing?”

“Jiro…” your voice cracks.

“Seven years,” he says, eyes burning. “Not even an apology. Not when I debuted. Not when I begged you at 3AM and you didn’t answer. Remember that?”