The waiting room of J's Law Firm smelled faintly of polished wood and fresh paper, an expensive kind of stillness that made people speak in softer voices. Seon-Woo stood near the entrance, shoulders tense, eyes lowered. He wasn't used to places like this. Offices with glass walls felt too transparent for someone who had spent years hiding in smaller shadows.
His friend nudged him gently.
"She'll help you," he whispered. "Everyone says this lawyer doesn't turn people away. Not if the case is real. Not if the pain is real."
Seon-Woo nodded without lifting his gaze.
His palms were cold. Not from fear, he had lived with fear for so long it had lost its sharpness, but from something heavier. The feeling of walking toward a turning point without knowing whether it would save him or crush him.
They walked toward the reception area, the sound of footsteps echoing against marble floors. A young assistant led them down a narrow corridor lined with framed certificates and awards. Everything here looked perfect, too perfect for someone like him.
And then they reached the last door.
"Attorney Im is ready for you," the assistant said.
The door opened quietly.
And Seon-Woo stopped breathing.
There she was.
Im Ha Yoon.
Not the girl who once ran into the rain with him.
Not the girl who laughed with her whole face.
Not the girl who waited under maple trees with nervous smiles.
Not the girl he walked home in the cold.
This woman, this version of her, stood tall behind a desk of dark walnut, wrapped in a tailored suit, hair pinned neatly, eyes calm in a way that only people who survived too much could manage.
Attorney Im Ha Yoon.
The nameplate on the desk gleamed under the soft office light, reflecting the person she had become.
She lifted her head and froze.
Recognition washed over her features like a slow, widening tide.
Her breath hitched.
Her fingers went still over the papers she had been reviewing.
For a moment, neither moved.
It felt like the whole room had folded in on itself, like time didn't know how to breathe.
"You…" she whispered.
Her voice trembled, almost imperceptibly.
Almost.
Seon-Woo swallowed hard, but no words came. The years pressed against him, the weight of mistakes, of silence, of distance, of everything he never got to explain.
His friend glanced between them, confused, unaware of the history vibrating in the air.
Ha Yoon recovered first, or at least pretended to.
She straightened, hands clasping each other, lawyer-mask sliding into place with practiced precision. But her eyes, the eyes he remembered in the rain wavered, just for a heartbeat.
"It's been a long time," she said softly.
Her voice was steady. But her hands?
Her hands shook.
He managed a small nod. "Yeah… it has."
Her gaze softened, a bittersweet ache flickering beneath her professional composure.
"Struggles make us move on so fast," she murmured, as if speaking to herself, not him.
"As if we blink, and years pass without asking if we're ready."
Something inside him twisted.
He opened his mouth to speak, but another voice cut through the air.
A man stepped in through the open door, wearing expensive casual clothes, the kind that looked effortless only when money did the work. He paused when he saw Seon-Woo.
"Oh," the man said. "You're meeting someone."
"Hae-Min," Ha Yoon breathed.
Seon-Woo turned.
Hae-Min.
Older now. Broader shoulders. A more controlled expression. The kind of confidence built from healing or pretending.
For a moment, the past and present collided, three people in a room filled with everything they once were and everything they could no longer return to.
"Seon-Woo," Hae-Min said, voice calm, unreadable.
"Hae-Min," Seon-Woo replied.
A thousand unsaid things hung between them.
And the room felt unbearably small.
________________________
The first year of university ended with laughter, exhaustion, and a bittersweet kind of hope. Everyone returned home for summer, back to the familiar streets, the predictable routines, the places where their childhoods still lived.
Seon-Woo entered his home quietly, suitcase dragging against the hallway floor.
"Mom, I'm back."
No answer.
Something felt wrong.
The house wasn't peaceful. It was too still, too silent, too cold.
He stepped into the living room and froze.
His mother was on the floor, her body curled in on itself, shaking. Above her stood his father, breath heavy with alcohol, rage burning in his eyes. His hand was raised.
"Stop!" Seon-Woo shouted, rushing forward.
His father turned, anger twisting into something darker.
"You think you can talk to me like that? You think you're a man now?"
Another blow.
Another cry.
Seon-Woo grabbed his father's arm, pulling him back with more force than he expected. "Leave her alone!"
His father shoved him.
He shoved back.
A misstep.
A slip.
A sickening crack.
The back of his father's head collided with the corner of the table.
Silence.
A silence that didn't feel real.
"Dad?" Seon-Woo whispered, voice trembling.
But there was no answer.
Only stillness.
His mother screamed.
Neighbors rushed in.
Someone called the police.
When they arrived, red and blue lights filled the street, reflecting in every window. The officers pulled him away from his mother, handcuffing him with practiced efficiency.
"It was an accident!" he cried, voice breaking. "I was trying to protect her! Please, it was an accident!"
But the world didn't stop for explanations.
People gathered outside, their faces shocked, whispering, pointing.
And then
"Seon-Woo!"
Ha Yoon.
She pushed through the crowd, hair messy, face pale, eyes wide with horror.
He turned toward her, breathing fast, chest tight.
"Ha Yoon…" His voice cracked.
She reached the police car just as they pushed him inside.
"What happened? What.....Seon-Woo, talk to me!" she begged, tears streaming down her face.
He shook his head, unable to form words. Everything hurt too much.
She pressed her hands against the window as the officers closed the door.
"Please! He didn't do anything!" she cried to the police. "He's not violent, he would never.....please listen!"
A police officer tried to move her aside.
She resisted, voice trembling, desperate.
"He's kind. He's gentle. Let me talk to him. Let me just...please let me...."
But the engine started.
"No.....no, wait....!" she sobbed.
Seon-Woo watched her through the glass, her face breaking, her hands sliding down the window, her mouth forming his name again and again.
The car pulled away.
And she?
she ran.
Barefoot.
Without thinking.
Without caring.
She chased the car down the street, breathless, crying, calling his name until her voice broke. People stared but she didn't see them.
All she saw was the boy inside the car, the boy who once kissed her in the rain, the boy who walked her home, the boy who smiled shyly at her jokes.
The boy being taken away.
And Seon-Woo, he pressed his forehead against the cold window, eyes burning, heart collapsing.
Because the last thing he saw before the car turned the corner, was Ha Yoon, fists clenched, chest heaving, crying as if she could break the world open to reach him.
As if losing him was something she did not know how to survive.