The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, a steady drumbeat that matched the chaos inside your chest. The sky was painted in streaks of pink and orange, the sun sinking lazily toward the horizon, casting long reflections across the water. You stood a few steps away from her, boots sinking slightly into the damp sand, and tried to steady your breathing.

Lee Da-Hye. Blond hair catching the fading light, red-purple eyes sharp even in the twilight. She looked impossibly alive, impossibly untouchable, and yet heartbreakingly vulnerable at the same time. You’d always known her as the tsundere, rich girl with the sharp tongue and the stubborn pride—but here, away from everything, there was no crowd, no cameras, no golf tournaments, no social expectations. Just the two of you.

“You came,” she said finally, voice soft but carrying that edge of irritation she always wore. Her arms were crossed, the faintest quiver betraying the tension she tried so hard to hide.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, taking a careful step closer. “Even if you try to act like you didn’t want me here.”

Her lips twitched, a half-smile, half-smirk, exactly that mixture that had tormented you for years. “I didn’t… I mean, don’t get the wrong idea,” she said quickly, looking away. “This isn’t… I’m not—”

“Lee Da-Hye,” you interrupted gently, taking another step closer, “look at me.”

She hesitated, then finally lifted her gaze, those sharp red-purple eyes meeting yours, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed. The ocean, the sunset, the soft hiss of the waves—all of it disappeared except for her.

“I… I know,” she whispered, voice tight, almost breaking. “I’m supposed to marry him. The CEO. My parents… they’ve made it all so clear. I don’t… I don’t love him.”

Your chest ached. You’d known it, of course, but hearing it, seeing the raw honesty beneath her proud, prickly exterior, it was like someone had stabbed straight through your ribcage.

“You don’t have to,” you said softly, stepping closer, letting your hand hover near hers. “I just… I wanted to see you one last time. To tell you… to show you that… whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”

Her breath caught. She looked down, then back at you, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “You… you always know what to say to make me—” she swallowed, shaking her head. “You make it worse, you idiot.”

You smiled faintly, trying to hide the tremor in your own voice. “I’ve always been terrible at everything but… I think I’m okay at being here for you.”

She laughed softly, the sound brittle but real, and finally let her arms drop to her sides. “You’ve always been… impossible,” she said, stepping closer until the space between you was almost nonexistent. “And yet… I’m glad you came.”

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in deeper reds and purples, reflecting the storm of emotions between you. You reached out, lightly brushing a strand of hair from her face. She didn’t pull back—not fully, not entirely—and that small gesture felt heavier than any promise.

“I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other,” you whispered.

Her gaze softened, just for a second, and she shook her head, fighting a smile she couldn’t suppress. “You really are impossible,” she murmured again, but this time, her voice held warmth. “But… thank you. For coming. For… everything.”

The waves whispered around you, the wind tousled her hair, and the world seemed suspended in that fragile, fleeting moment. You wanted to hold onto it, to freeze time, to capture the laugh, the sorrow, the closeness that had always existed between you. But you knew this was it—the last chapter before the arranged life pulled her away.

And still, even with her future written by someone else, you remained there, together on the edge of the sea, hearts beating too loudly, knowing some bonds were too strong to erase, no matter how far life carried you apart.