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tinavvs · 2 months ago

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Between fate and forgiveness

warnings: angst, lack of communication, misunderstanding, etc

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I wanted to forget you,

To bury the memories that still burn,

But the truth is,

I can’t forget.

And maybe I shouldn’t.

For every moment you broke me,

You’ve given me a chance to rebuild,

To learn what it means to love again.

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She thought the distance was temporary.

That whatever was pulling him away would pass. That they were just going through something, like most couples do.

But Y/N never expected to lose him like this.

Not to another girl.

And definitely not through a headline.

“Yang jungwon Engaged to Kim Soojin: Sole heir to yang company Announces Engagement to beloved co-star Kim Soojin at 20 .”

It didn’t make sense.

Not when just weeks ago he was holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Not when he told her he loved her. That he just needed time.

Now, his face was plastered across every major news outlet, smiling beside someone she used to consider part of their friend group.

Soojin. His childhood friend. The one who had always been “just a friend.”

And just like that, Y/N became the footnote in her own love story.

No closure. No warning. Just… gone.

She tried to call. He didn’t answer.

She tried to convince herself it wasn’t real, just a fucking nightmare that she desperately wants to wake up from. There had to be more to the story.

But with every new article, every shared photo, every congratulations flooding her feed, the truth settled heavier on her chest.

He hadn’t just left her.

He’d erased her.

She needed answers from him.

But when she showed up at his door desperate for something, anything to make it make sense what she got was worse than silence.

“I never wanted you to find out like this,” he said, voice breaking. “The engagement… it’s not real. I wasn’t supposed to tell you like this. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you without making it seem like i chose her over you.”

“Then why does it feel real?” she whispered. “Why does it feel like you chose her?”

Jungwon took a step forward, voice pleading. “I didn’t choose her. I chose you. I was working on it. I just needed more time to—”

“To what? Break it off privately so no one would blame you? Protect your family name?” She shook her head. “I don’t care about the headlines, Jungwon. I cared about you. About us. But you left me alone in the dark.”

“I was trying to shield you from it—”

“Don’t say that.” Her voice cracked. “You weren’t shielding me. You were hiding from the consequences.”

Silence.

She crossed her arms tightly, as if trying to hold herself together.

“I don’t want to be someone you love in secret.”

“You’re not—”

“I was.”

Her eyes met his, finally, and they were cold.

“I think we’re done.”

He froze. “What?”

“You didn’t fight for me.” Her voice was quiet. Final. “So I’m not going to fight for us either.”

Then she turned and walked out.

jungwon didn’t dare to run after her

He told himself she just needed space. That it was just a bad night. That she’d come back when things cooled down.

That was his mistake.

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Y/N stood at the edge of the airport terminal, clutching her bag tighter as the cold wind swept through the glass doors. Her heart was a storm, swirling in every direction, yet heavy with the knowledge that she had made her decision.

She was leaving.

She hadn’t planned to. Not at first. But when jungwon decided to not fight for them she knew there was no point in waiting anymore, she didn't want to be the only one trying to mend things.

she had enough

She had waited for him to fight for her. To fight for them.

But he never did.

Instead, he stayed silent.

the silence was breaking her..

The long, empty stretches where she found herself questioning everything. The late nights she spent alone in their apartment, looking at his side of the bed, wondering if he’d ever come back to her.

When she heard about his engagement to Kim Soojin her heart shattered.

Engaged.

To his childhood friend. The one he had always called “just a friend.”

The headlines had made it official: “Yang Jungwon Engaged to Kim Soojin: Sole Heir to Yang Company Announces Engagement to Beloved Co-Star at 20.”

Y/N didn't know what hurt more the headline or the fact that Jungwon hadn’t even told her.

So she decided to leave, she couldn’t bare to be in the same country that he is in

Jungwon didn’t know she was gone.

At first he tried calling her but it will always be on voicemail. He tried messaging her begging to stay for a little while. telling her he can fix this, he just needed time but it was too late

No text.

No calls.

Just pure silence.

She had left the country

but he didn’t know that yet.

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Tired of the silence between them he went to her apartment, holding a bouquet of peonies, He had picked them out himself, remembering how she once said they reminded her of softer days.

on his way to her apartment he rehearsed what he would say to her.

"I'm sorry."

“I should’ve fought for you sooner."

"please stay with me for a little while ill try to fix this."

But when he knocked, it wasn’t her who opened the door.

A middle-aged man with greying hair and kind eyes stepped out instead. The landlord.

“She’s not here,” the man said, brows furrowed in confusion. “She moved out two days ago. Told me she was leaving the country.”

The words hit Jungwon like a punch to the chest.

His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, in a shaky, disbelieving voice, he asked,

“Do you… do you know where she went?”

The landlord gave him a sympathetic smile, one that carried the weight of knowing too well what heartbreak looked like.

“Sorry, son,” he said gently. “She didn’t leave a forwarding address. No details. Just… disappeared.”

Jungwon couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

The peonies shook in his trembling grip, petals beginning to fall, just like the composure he barely held onto.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the world. Like everything inside him was collapsing under the weight of a choice he hadn’t realized she’d already made.

He muttered a quiet, broken “thank you,” and turned around, his voice barely audible.

The door clicked shut behind him as he walked back to his car, the bouquet still in his hand.

He sat in the driver’s seat, numb, staring blankly at the dashboard as the reality sank in.

She was gone.

Really gone.

He had allowed her to walk away. Allowed the distance to grow between them because he thought she needed it. But now that she was gone, he realized the bitter truth: he was the one who had needed her the most.

The engagement with Soojin wasn’t real, but it had been the final push that had shattered everything. It had taken him by surprise, a reminder of how far he had fallen.

And now she is gone.

He had lost her.

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The knock at her door came after midnight.

Soojin opened it to find Jungwon standing there—disheveled, eyes bloodshot, peonies crushed in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he still had them.

“Jungwon…” she whispered, stepping aside.

He said nothing as he walked in, collapsing onto her couch like he had done so many times as kids but this time, the weight he carried was different. He was drowning.

“Did you talk to her?” she asked softly,

He shook his head.

“I went to her apartment. She’s gone. Moved out. Left the country.”

Soojin sat beside him, her heart aching at the sight of him so broken.

“She didn’t tell anyone?”

“She didn’t tell me,” he whispered. “She just… left.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

Soojin handed him a glass of water. He didn’t take it. He just stared down at his hands like they were stained with everything he didn’t say when it mattered.

“I keep thinking... if I had just told her sooner, if I hadn’t waited. If I hadn’t let my parents—”

“Stop,” Soojin interrupted gently. “Don’t do that to yourself. You were trying to protect her in your own way.”

“I protected my image,” he spat. “I protected the fucking lie. And now I can’t even find her.”

Soojin placed a hand over his.

“Then we’ll find her.”

He looked up, eyes glassy. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I saw the way you loved her, Jungwon. And I saw the way she looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense. I’m helping because I’m not just your friend—I was hers too.”

That broke him.

He let out a strangled sob, burying his face in his hands as the tears finally came.

Soojin wrapped her arms around him, holding him like she was trying to keep the last pieces of him from falling apart.

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It wasn’t easy.

Y/N had covered her tracks well.

No flight records under her name.

No social media.

She was a ghost.

But Soojin had connections and so did Jungwon. Between her agency’s private contacts and his family’s wealth (which he finally decided to use for something that mattered), they began pulling every string.

They even hired a team of private investigators.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Jungwon told them. “Find her.”

Month five turned into month six. And then seven.

He tried everything.

Every number he knew.

Every mutual friend.

Her old job.

Her family.

No one knew.

Or maybe they did, but they were protecting her from him.

He couldn’t blame them.

He didn’t sleep. He barely ate.

His world shrank down to one single purpose: Find her.

And for seven long months, he didn’t.

Not a single trace.

Still nothing.

Jungwon began unraveling.

He stopped showing up to family meetings. Pulled out of filming. Ignored press.

Every morning, he woke up with the same dream, her voice saying his name.

Every night, he fell asleep asking the same question: Did I lose her forever?

Jungwon was sitting in Soojin’s living room, staring blankly at a list of international leads that had once again led to dead ends.

He hadn’t spoken in hours.

“Jungwon…” Soojin said carefully.

No answer.

“Jungwon, you need to eat.”

Still nothing.

Then he snapped.

The papers in his lap scattered as he stood, shouting, “It’s been seven fucking months, Soojin! She’s fucking GONE! She doesn’t want to be found!”

His voice broke halfway through, and he sank to his knees, chest heaving. Tears spilled freely now. Ugly, aching sobs that shook his whole frame.

Soojin knelt beside him.

“She’s out there,” she said firmly. “You haven’t come this far to stop now.”

“I don’t even know if she still loves me,” he choked. “What if she hates me?”

“Then let her tell you that herself,” Soojin said. “But don’t give up until you hear it from her lips.”

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It was nearly a year since she vanished.

Jungwon had stopped counting the days.

Not because it hurt less—but because every sunrise without her felt the same: empty, colorless, stuck in a loop of regret and unanswered questions.

Then, one evening just as he was about to shut down his laptop and give into another sleepless night Soojin burst into his apartment.

He looked up, startled. She was out of breath, cheeks flushed, something wild and urgent in her eyes.

“Soojin? What are–”

“I found her.”

The words didn’t register at first.

“What?”

“I think we found her,” she repeated, slower this time, handing him a folder with trembling hands.

Inside was a photo blurry, slightly off-center, but unmistakably her.

Y/N.

She was standing outside a small art gallery in Florence, Italy. Her hair was longer now, sun-kissed and loose around her shoulders. She wore a light scarf and a beige coat, holding a takeaway cup in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She was smiling softly, quietly. But the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

There was a name written in cursive beneath the photo: Lina Seo.

An alias.

“She changed everything,” Soojin said, voice low. “Name, job, even the language she speaks out there. But the gallery owner accidentally uploaded a signed receipt on their online system, and one of our people caught her handwriting. We matched it. It’s her, Jungwon. It’s really her.”

He stared at the photo like it would vanish if he blinked too hard.

It was her.

After all this time.

After all the dead ends, the broken leads, the countless nights spent wondering if she had disappeared forever.

She was alive.

She was okay.

And she was still in the world just far away from his.

He swallowed hard. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

Soojin met his eyes gently. “Then you’ll walk away knowing you tried. But if you don’t go, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

He clenched the photo in his hand, heart thudding like war drums in his chest.

“Where’s the address?”

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The flight to Florence felt like a lifetime.

Jungwon sat by the window, the folder clutched to his chest, earbuds in but no music playing. The white noise of the plane filled his ears, but his mind was racing.

He thought of the first time he held her hand.

The way she laughed when she got nervous.

The way she used to trace his name in the condensation on windows.

He thought of her last words to him before she left, cold and final:

“You didn’t fight for me. You didn’t even try.”

But he was trying now.

Maybe far too late.

But it was all he had.

He replayed every possible version of the reunion in his mind:

Would she slam the door in his face?

Would she cry?

Would she pretend not to know him?

He tried to hold on to hope, but it slipped through his fingers more each hour, especially when a year had passed without so much as a glimpse of her. And in the quiet moments, he couldn't stop wondering… had she changed? Or worse had she moved on?

With a heavy sigh, he turned toward the window beside him. The view outside was breathtaking clouds drifting like memories he couldn’t hold onto, the sky a soft blur of colors. But even with all that beauty, it felt empty without her beside him.

The seat next to him was unoccupied.

It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just a seat. Just leather and space. But to him, it echoed with absence. He remembered the last time they were on a plane together her head resting on his shoulder, soft music playing through shared earbuds, her fingers tracing shapes on his palm without realizing it.

He blinked the memory away.

It had been a year.

Three hundred and sixty-five days of what ifs and could have it been. sleepless nights and constant searching. Of hoping she was okay, and fearing he’d ruined her definition of love forever.

He leaned his forehead against the window, letting the cool glass ground him.

"Did she still hum when she was nervous?" he wondered. "Did she still drink chamomile tea before bed? Did she still hate long goodbyes?"

And most hauntingly "Does she still love me?"

He had no answers. Only silence and sky.

Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a worn piece of paper. The edges were frayed, the ink a little smudged from the times his fingers clutched it too tightly.

It was a letter. One he never sent.

“If you ever read this, I want you to know I never stopped choosing you. Not once.”

He folded it back carefully and closed his eyes.

The plane began to descend, dipping lower through the clouds as the sun spilled golden light across the horizon. His heart pounded louder with every passing second.

After a year of chasing shadows, of following the thinnest threads of her trail, he was finally landing in the one place her name had been whispered. A lead. A maybe. A chance.

And for the first time in a long time…

He let himself believe.

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The wheels touched down with a soft thud a gentle jolt that rippled through the cabin, announcing that they’d arrived. But for Jungwon, it felt like a thunderclap.

He sat still for a moment, his fingers curled tightly around the armrest, chest rising and falling with a tension that had been building for twelve months straight. The seatbelt sign dinged softly, and passengers began to stir, reaching for bags, stretching stiff legs, laughing, talking.

But he remained frozen.

His world hadn’t caught up yet. His heart was still somewhere 30,000 feet above, suspended in a sky full of unanswered questions and too many memories.

Slowly, he released the seatbelt and stood, grabbing the small duffel bag he’d brought stuffed not with clothes, but pieces of her. A photo, her favorite scarf, the silver bracelet she left behind on his nightstand.

As he stepped off the plane and into the jet bridge, the warmth of a new country greeted him. It was humid, the kind that clung to your skin and reminded you that you were somewhere unfamiliar. A fresh place. A second chance.

He made his way through immigration, his eyes scanning every face, every movement, like maybe she’d be there by accident. Like fate had led her to the same terminal, the same moment in time.

But of course, she wasn’t.

Not yet.

Outside, the airport was busy tourists rolling luggage, taxis honking, locals moving with practiced rhythm. The city buzzed around him, alive and oblivious.

He paused on the curb, pulling his cap a little lower over his eyes, letting the wind sweep across his face.

And then he pulled out his phone.

A single message lit up the screen from Soojin.

“Address confirmed. She's still there. Good luck.”

His fingers hovered over the reply, but he couldn’t type anything. There weren’t words for what he was feeling. Gratitude. Terror. Hope that felt too fragile to hold.

He took a breath.

Then another.

And stepped into the nearest cab.

“Where to?” the driver asked, glancing at him through the mirror.

Jungwon swallowed the lump in his throat and showed him the address.

She wasn’t just a dream anymore. She was real. She was near.

And this time… he wouldn’t let her slip away.

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The cab ride was silent.

Outside the window, the city moved in slow motion. Children played by the sidewalks, people laughed in cafés, mopeds buzzed past with the energy of life continuing. But inside the car, Jungwon sat still, knuckles white around the strap of his duffel bag, heart hammering like a drum he couldn’t silence.

The driver finally pulled up in front of a modest two-story house nestled between an old building and bougainvillea-covered fences. It wasn’t what he expected. It was… warm. Lived-in.

“She lives here?” he asked himself quietly, like the words might disappear if he said them too loud.

He stepped out, legs suddenly feeling too heavy for his body. Each step toward the front gate was a fight against his own nerves. Every part of him screamed for certainty, for preparation, for a moment to catch his breath.

But there was no preparing for this. He reached the gate and hesitated.

Would she slam the door in his face?

Would she cry?

Would she look at him like a stranger?

Or worse like someone she had already let go of?

His hand hovered over the intercom, heart in his throat. Before he could press it, a voice soft, familiar, and distant floated through the open window upstairs.

It was her.

She was singing. Just under her breath. The melody is slightly off-key, but still so Y/N that it made his knees go weak.

He took a step back, overwhelmed by the sound of her voice after so long. It was like hearing color again after a year in grayscale.

He barely noticed when the door opened.

Y/N stood in the doorway. Barefoot. Hair messy. A paint-stained sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder.

And her eyes locked onto his.

Everything stopped.

The wind. The traffic. Time.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did he. They just stared two souls caught in the eye of a storm only they had survived.

“…Jungwon?” she finally whispered.

His throat burned. “Hi.”

Silence stretched between them, fragile and thick with a year’s worth of questions.

“I—I didn’t know how else to find you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t even know if you’d want to be found.”

She blinked. Her expression is unreadable.

“You left,” he added, voice cracking. “You didn’t just walk away. You disappeared. You didn’t give me a chance to fix it.”

Her jaw clenched.

“I did,” she replied, calm but trembling. “I gave you space. I waited. You gave me silence. That was my answer.”

He took a shaky step forward. “I thought giving you space was what you needed.”

“No.” Her eyes flashed. “I needed you to fight for me. I needed you to stay. But you waited until I broke before you showed up with tulips and half-truths.”

He nodded slowly, shoulders heavy. “I deserved that.”

Her chest rose and fell. “Why are you here now?”

He swallowed. “Because I never stopped looking. And I never stopped loving you.”

Her eyes glistened.

“I spent a year searching for you, Y/N. I lost everything chasing the one thing that ever mattered to me. You. And I know—I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But I’ll still beg for it.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. Then, with the quietest voice:

“It took you a year.”

“And I’d search a hundred more,” he replied.

Another pause. A war waged silently behind her eyes.

Then she opened the door wider.

“Come in.”

His breath caught. Maybe fate had brought them back together. But this time, forgiveness would have to do the rest.

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The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted.

It smelled like lavender and paint. Like the kind of peace she had built without him. The walls were soft cream, the corners scattered with canvases and books. There was a mug half-full on the coffee table and a cardigan draped over the arm of the couch. Everything about it screamed her. The life she made. The life she lived. Alone.

Jungwon stood awkwardly by the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyes darting around as if taking inventory of the year he missed.

Y/N walked past him silently, barefoot padding against the wood floors. She picked up the mug, took a sip, and sat on the edge of the couch, keeping distance between them like it was instinct now.

He didn’t sit. He couldn’t.

“You painted,” he said quietly, eyes landing on a canvas in the corner. It was abstract—muted tones with sudden streaks of bold red, like chaos breaking through stillness.

“I had time,” she replied softly, staring down at the rim of her cup.

The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything unsaid.

Finally, Jungwon broke it.

“I looked everywhere. Seoul. Busan. Even reached out to that friend you met at that art residency in Prague. No one knew. Or they were protecting you.”

She looked at him then. “Good.”

His lips pressed into a line. “You disappeared like you were trying to erase us.”

She put the cup down gently. “You let me drown in silence, Jungwon. I didn’t disappear I was already gone the moment you chose your family’s legacy over me.”

He stepped closer, but she didn’t flinch. She was too tired for dramatics. Too guarded for tears.

“I didn’t choose them. I was trapped. It took Soojin and I almost eight months to undo the engagement. You think I didn’t fight?” he said, voice cracking. “I ruined everything to make it right. I lost investors, friends. My family won’t speak to me.”

“But you still waited too long.”

“I was scared!” he snapped, then immediately looked ashamed. He lowered his voice. “I was scared that I’d already broken you beyond repair. And when I came back to apologize and the landlord told me you were gone… I broke. For real.”

She softened a little, but not enough. Not yet.

“Soojin found me,” she said suddenly. “Three months ago. She didn’t tell you where I was, but she told me what happened. That you kept looking.”

He blinked. “She did?”

Y/N nodded. “And she said something that stuck with me.”

He waited.

“She said… ‘He lost his voice when he lost you. Like he stopped being him. And he’s not asking to go back he’s asking to be someone worthy now.’”

Jungwon swallowed hard. “She said that?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “She also cried when she saw one of my paintings. Said it looked like how your heart sounded.”

That was Soojin. Honest in ways words couldn’t fully hold.

He took one more step forward. “Do you still love me, Y/N?”

The question hung in the air like mist soft, almost invisible, but impossible to ignore.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“I do,” she admitted. “But love doesn’t undo the hurt.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m not here to erase the past. I’m here to help you carry it. If you’ll let me.”

A long pause.

Then finally she shifted on the couch, patting the space beside her.

“Sit.”

He did.

Their shoulders barely touched. But it was enough.

The room was still. Only the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the distant sound of a dog barking outside filled the silence.

Jungwon sat with his hands on his lap, his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t know where to begin. So much had happened. So much had been said without being said.

He glanced at her, watching the way her fingers traced the edge of her cup as if she was carefully choosing her words. He could see the subtle tremor in her hands, the way she was holding herself back, keeping a certain distance. Her walls were still high—he could feel that in his bones.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, he spoke softly, his voice raw, like he was finding his words for the first time.

“I wanted to tell you, before I—before all of this happened, that I didn’t expect you to wait for me,” he said, looking down at his hands. “I just… I didn’t know how to make it right. I didn’t know how to break free without losing everything. And in the end, I ended up losing you anyway.”

Y/N looked at him, but there was no anger in her eyes. Just sadness. “I wasn’t asking you to choose between me and your family, Jungwon. I wanted you to choose me, I mean us. I wanted to feel like I mattered enough to fight for.”

He swallowed hard, his heart aching at the truth of her words. "I failed you, didn't I?"

She nodded, but there was no bitterness. No resentment in her eyes. Just a raw kind of vulnerability that both broke and healed him all at once.

“I wanted to fight,” he said, almost to himself, voice trembling. “I thought... I thought you’d still be there when I was ready to fight. But by the time I tried... everything was already different.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke next. “I didn't want to leave. But staying in a place where I didn’t feel like I was enough… I couldn’t breathe anymore.”

Jungwon’s chest tightened at the pain in her words. He couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for herwaiting, hoping, and yet feeling invisible all at once.

“I should have seen it sooner. I should have known how you were feeling,” he murmured, guilt lacing his every word. “I kept thinking you’d be okay. That you understood why I needed to do this… but I never even asked if you were okay. I never even asked what you needed.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her gaze never leaving him. “You never asked. You just assumed.”

A sharp sting ran through him, but he nodded, acknowledging her truth.

“I’m sorry. I can’t take back the past, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. I don’t want to be someone who only learns after losing everything.”

She shifted, her eyes searching his face, as if weighing the sincerity in his words. Then, with a small sigh, she spoke again.

“You were never nothing to me, Jungwon. You were everything. I just didn’t know how to hold on to someone who couldn’t see me. Couldn’t see us.”

A silence passed between them, heavy with memories of their past. But now, something felt different. There was space between the words, a space they both needed, a space for truth.

“I don’t want to pretend like everything can be fixed with a hug, or a kiss,” she added, her voice steady now. “It’s going to take time. I’m not asking for us to just forget everything. I can’t. I’m just…” She looked down, her fingers gently tracing the coffee table. “I’m asking for a chance. A real chance. To see if we can find each other again.”

Jungwon’s heart thudded loudly in his chest. He could feel the weight of her words, but there was a spark of something else, too. Hope. Uncertainty. Maybe even a glimmer of something that could grow between them, given time.

“I don’t deserve a second chance,” he said, his voice thick. “But I’ll fight for it, if you’ll let me.”

Y/N’s lips curved slightly, just enough for him to see that there was still something there. Something fragile but real.

“I don’t know what the future holds for us,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I’m willing to give you a second chance, although it will take time but if you’re willing to wait, then I suppose we can try.”

He nodded slowly, a deep breath escaping his chest. it felt like he had been holding it for an eternity.

Y/N leaned back slightly on the couch, as if letting herself breathe again for the first time since he walked in. Jungwon sat beside her in silence, eyes downcast, fingers twitching nervously in his lap. There was more he wanted to say, more he had tried to say, over and over again in the quiet of lonely hotel rooms and on long, sleepless nights staring at old photos of her.

But no matter how many times he tried, the words never came out right.

So he did what he could.

And he wrote.

Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, Jungwon carefully pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope. The paper was worn, the corners bent, but her name, her real name, the one he used when it was just the two of them was written across the front in his familiar handwriting.

“I was going to mail this,” he said quietly, holding it out to her, his fingers shaking. “But I never knew where to send it. So I just… kept it. Every time I moved cities, I carried it with me. It’s the only thing I knew for sure I wanted you to have.”

Y/N blinked, staring at the letter as if it might burn her fingers if she touched it.

But after a long second, she took it.

And her breath hitched the moment her fingers closed around the paper.

“I wrote it seven months in,” he continued, eyes still lowered. “It was after I realized I’d probably never find you. I broke down. Like really broke. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing your voice in everything. Kept seeing you in strangers. I thought maybe writing to you would help. It didn’t. Not really. But… it was the closest I ever got to you in that time.”

Y/N said nothing. Her thumb brushed over the ink of her name.

“You don’t have to read it now,” he said gently, voice strained. “I just wanted you to have it.”

She looked at him then, really looked.

He looked different. A little older, a little more tired, but softer somehow. Not in the way that meant weak but in the way that meant he had learned. Felt. Changed.

She held the letter close to her chest. Not ready to open it just yet. Not because she was afraid of what it said—but because something about the way he spoke made her believe that it had already been written in every word he’d spoken since the moment he walked through her door.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

They sat in silence again, but this time it wasn’t painful. It was quiet. Warm. Like the air before a gentle rain.

Jungwon finally leaned back into the couch, his shoulder brushing hers, closer than before.

And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like he was trying to fix something.

It felt like he was just there.

With her.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough—for now.

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Note: im finally done!!! It took me a lil while to post this since i wasn’t satisfied with the ending so i had to fix some stufff, i apologize for the delay and the bonus part will be posted tomorrow so stay tuned!!!, please leave ur thoughts in the comments

#jungwon #angst #fanfic #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #enhypen x reader #reader x jungwon #second chances #tinavvs

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