Chapter 32: Letting Go

The Yoon Ji-woo Hae-su met at the hospital had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

A large bandage was attached to one of his arms, making it obvious that he had come to the hospital as a patient himself.

That probably made the unexpected encounter with Choi Hae-su all the more startling.

His surprise at this unplanned meeting lasted only a moment.

Soon, Ji-woo’s expression settled.

No.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that he looked like someone who had made up his mind.

He asked if he could speak with Hae-su for a while.

The request was so polite that Hae-su found himself unable to refuse.

After a brief exchange, the two ended up sitting side by side.

“What brings you here, Hae-su? Do you mind if I ask whether you’re sick?”

“It’s just an outpatient appointment. Something I come for regularly…”

The first thing Ji-woo did was ask to move somewhere else.

In the crowded café, where people constantly came and went, he seemed unable to speak freely.

His lips moved repeatedly without forming words.

Only after they got into his car did the trembling in his hands finally subside.

Hae-su sat in the passenger seat.

Before Ji-woo could say anything meaningful, Hae-su deliberately avoided looking at him.

Instead, he stared out the window and waited.

“Hae-su.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

He had thought he would be angry.

He had believed that if he ever met this man, all the jealousy and resentment that had lost their destination would inevitably spill out.

He had expected himself to act completely unlike Choi Hae-su.

Yet strangely enough, none of that happened.

“I’ve spent all this time hoping that Kwon Se-ha would never recover his memories.”

“……”

“Ever since I learned about you, there hasn’t been a single day when I didn’t think that.”

The taste of cocoa still lingered in Hae-su’s mouth.

The moment Ji-woo’s words reached him, his lips stopped moving.

His damaged hearing left him no room to simply let the words pass.

They echoed in his mind like tinnitus.

Unfortunately, it was the exact opposite of what Hae-su had wanted.

Not once had he wished to leave Se-ha’s side.

“I see…”

“I’m standing here telling you that I’ve wished for the unhappiness of someone whose face I didn’t even know…”

The round eyes that once looked directly at him were hidden beneath lowered lids.

Hae-su quietly watched him.

Sadly, Ji-woo no longer had the courage to meet his gaze.

Now he, too, had become someone who couldn’t look directly at Hae-su.

Just as Hae-su once couldn’t.

If silence had weight, Hae-su thought he might be crushed to death between them.

It grew heavier with every passing second.

The pressure tightened around his throat, blocked his airway.

Perhaps he would slowly suffocate beneath it.

Then, in the stillness, Ji-woo finally let out a pained sound.

The things Hae-su had desperately tried to ignore spilled out one after another onto Ji-woo’s lap.

“…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Hae-su…”

Ji-woo cried.

As though even he could no longer endure the weight of the atmosphere between them.

Hae-su felt sorry for him.

Sorry for the man who had forced himself into the role of a villain.

Who had spoken cruel words that never suited his nature.

And because of that, an overwhelming sorrow swept over him.

He had wanted Ji-woo to be a bad person.

If he were honest, that childish, petty wish was all he had ever wanted from Se-ha’s new lover.

If only Yoon Ji-woo were truly cruel.

Cruel enough that Se-ha would grow tired of him and run away.

Cruel enough that—

“Hae-su, I hate you so much, but…”

If there ever came a day, years later, when someone suddenly came to mind…

He had wanted that person to be Choi Hae-su.

That wasn’t the only reason he had been so kind to Se-ha after the accident.

Back then, he had been filled with reckless hope.

Now he knew better.

A different emotion surged through him.

Not resentment toward fading memories.

Something else.

“You must hate me too.”

“……”

“How are you planning to live from now on? Can you tell me?”

He understood Ji-woo’s anxiety.

And his resentment.

Ever since learning of each other’s existence, Hae-su had wrestled with those same feelings.

There wasn’t much left that he could control anymore.

Only then did he understand why he had searched for something so overwhelmingly sweet today.

For some reason, he felt strangely calm.

Not sad.

No longer desperately wishing for something impossible.

“From now on…”

He paused.

“I think I’ll stop.”

“……”

“It’s probably time. I think I’ve waited long enough…”

Ji-woo didn’t press him for an explanation.

He didn’t ask Hae-su to leave them alone.

Didn’t ask him to disappear from their lives.

Which meant this was something Hae-su himself had already known.

Something he had quietly accepted.

A heavy pressure settled on his chest.

Was that what this feeling was?

Suffocation?

He tapped the window button with his fingernail, wondering if opening it might help.

Then he remembered the determination that had shattered before he ever met Ji-woo.

The version of himself who had collapsed the moment he saw Ji-woo, before he could even try following the advice Do-yoon had given him.

That image remained vivid.

At the same time, he remembered the dream from a few days ago.

A gentle Kwon Se-ha.

A Se-ha who had not forgotten them.

A Se-ha who had wrapped Hae-su tightly in his arms.

And the words he had spoken.

“Live well, just to spite me, Hae-su.”

“Let yourself become precious to someone else now.”

You’re nothing alike.

That was what he had always thought.

Which was why he had ignored those words.

Treated the Se-ha in that dream as though he were a different person entirely.

But deep down, he knew they weren’t different at all.

“Se-ha didn’t choose to lose his memories.”

“……”

“He didn’t choose to forget me.”

“……”

“So I kept thinking that giving up wasn’t an option. I was afraid that if he ever got his memories back, he’d think I abandoned him.”

As he spoke, the attachments he had clung to for so long slowly transformed into memories.

Things he could someday look back on.

He kept his voice steady.

Refusing to let emotion shake it.

The past, filled entirely with his years beside Se-ha, began replaying itself.

“I’ve started thinking that continuing to miss Se-ha this much might be unfair to someone now.”

He smiled faintly.

“I only realized that recently. I found out about the wedding a few days ago.”

“Hae-su… I really…”

“If I’ve made you feel anxious, Ji-woo…”

He lowered his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

Hidden inside that apology was jealousy that had never fully disappeared.

For the first time, he voiced his envy.

And to the very person he envied.

His nose stung.

His throat burned.

Like Ji-woo, he felt as though tears might come at any moment.

Heat gathered behind his eyes.

Anyone looking at him now would probably think he was on the verge of crying.

He didn’t care who saw.

As long as it wasn’t Ji-woo.

So he continued staring out the window.

“I kept dragging this out because I thought there was no point breaking up with someone who couldn’t even remember me.”

“……”

“Because he wasn’t the Kwon Se-ha I knew.”

He laughed quietly.

“I guess that’s how I justified it.”

At those words, Ji-woo could no longer keep his eyes open.

He sobbed as though he were barely holding himself together.

Covering his mouth with both hands.

Allowing himself to hurt.

Perhaps this conversation with Ji-woo struck deeper than all the farewells Se-ha had ever tried to give him.

Hae-su couldn’t tell how much of what he was saying was completely sincere.

But it wasn’t all lies.

There were too many words he had postponed for too long.

Blood seemed to rush toward the tips of his limbs.

At the same time, a sharp tingling spread through his body.

Everything felt lost.

Like wandering endlessly through unfamiliar roads.

Unfamiliar places were frightening.

And unfamiliar feelings always made people tense.

“I still haven’t told Se-ha any of this.”

“……”

“But maybe…”

He let out a breath.

“Maybe I don’t need to.”

The memory of their meeting a few days ago flashed through his mind.

The stubborn version of himself who had refused to let go until the very end.

If he had known it would end like this, perhaps he should have nodded back then.

In the end, he never even managed to say goodbye.

Even though parting was such a simple thing.

He couldn’t stay there any longer.

His hand settled on the door handle.

If he opened it now, what would come next?

Whatever it was, there would be even more things beyond his reach than before.

“Hae-su.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s never meet again.”

Ji-woo finally spoke.

His voice trembled violently.

Yet he forced the words out anyway.

The cracked voice struck Hae-su’s back.

“…Okay.”

He nodded once.

“Let’s do that.”

The days he had tried so desperately to hold onto scattered before his eyes.

Ji-woo wasn’t talking about the relationship between the two people sitting in this car.

Hae-su understood exactly what he meant.

That was why he could answer.

His own voice was no better.

It felt as though he were truly saying goodbye.

Parting with Kwon Se-ha in a place where Se-ha wasn’t even present.

He opened the door.

There was no reason to exchange farewells.

So he closed it without another word.

He simply wanted to get away from Ji-woo as quickly as possible.

He forced strength into his legs and walked forward, careful not to stumble.

At last, there were no lingering regrets about the things Se-ha couldn’t remember.

He only hoped Se-ha would eat well.

Sleep well.

Laugh often.

And live the life he wanted.

Letting go wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he had imagined.

Even so, he didn’t think he could attend the wedding.

The stubbornness he had once directed toward Lee Do-yoon quietly fell away.

After getting out of Ji-woo’s car, he just kept walking.

The familiar streets eventually led him somewhere unexpected.

His own home.

The place Do-yoon had worked so hard to pull him away from.

Yet now Hae-su had returned there on his own.

He entered the passcode and stepped inside.

The refrigerator was nearly empty.

Only a bottle of water remained.

He grabbed it and drank straight from the bottle.

The cold water washed away the heavy sweetness that had lingered in his mouth and throat all day.

Without even looking, he tossed the bottle aside.

Water roared into the sink.

Then, like a madman, he crossed the living room.

His hand reached impulsively toward a dust-covered photo frame sitting beneath the sunlight.

Had there really been this much to throw away?

Crash!

The glass shattered.

And the version of them trapped inside shattered with it.

Regret flooded him.

Something so simple.

Yet something he had never been able to do before.

Longing spread through the broken shards.

Only then did he realize he had collapsed onto the floor.

“Ah… ngh…”

The tears he had held back in front of Ji-woo finally broke free.

One drop.

Then another.

Then countless more.

Sitting on the living room floor beside the photograph, Hae-su finally allowed himself to grieve.

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