Ha Yoon's POV
Why him?
People ask it like there's supposed to be a better answer.
Like love is a calculation.
Like the heart follows logic.
Why him?
Because when I was falling apart in ways no one could see, he stayed.
Not loudly.
Not heroically.
He didn't try to save me or rewrite my past.
He just sat beside me and let me be broken without making me feel like I was wrong for it.
When my words came out tangled and unfinished, he listened anyway.
When I pushed people away out of fear, he didn't punish me for it.
He waited.
He never asked me to explain myself on my worst days.
Never demanded answers when even I didn't understand what I was feeling.
He offered advice without trying to control me.
Support without judgment.
Presence without conditions.
I didn't realize how rare that was until I almost lost it.
I only see myself with him now, not because he replaced anyone, but because he became the place I learned how to breathe again.
He's the one I ran to when the world felt too heavy, when memories came back sharp and unexpected, when nights felt longer than they should.
He's the one who stayed.
Stayed when loving me wasn't easy.
Stayed when I was distant, confused, unfinished.
Stayed without knowing if he'd ever be my first choice, yet choosing me every day anyway.
If it's not him… then I don't think it could ever be anyone.
Not because I'm afraid to be alone.
But because once you're loved like that, quietly, patiently, without being asked to become someone else, you don't forget it.
I know one day I'll look back on this choice and understand it even more clearly.
I know I won't regret choosing him.
Because loving him was never a mistake.
It wasn't reckless.
It wasn't careless.
It was intentional.
I would rather suffer with him, learning, growing, choosing again and again,
than live a life without him, wondering what it would have been like to stay.
Some loves feel like fire.
They burn fast, bright, unforgettable.
But Hae Min…
He feels like shelter.
And when the storm comes, that's the love I choose.
Hae - Min's POV
I wasn't meant to find it.
The diary was tucked where she always kept things she didn't want to explain, between old documents, folded letters, a pressed receipt from a place we once went together and never talked about again. I only opened it because I was looking for something else. A habit, maybe. Or instinct.
I shouldn't have read it.
But my name was there.
Not written loudly.
Not underlined.
Just… there.
As if it had always belonged.
Why him?
I stopped breathing at the first line.
'People ask it like there's supposed to be a better answer.'
I felt something shift in my chest. Not pain, something heavier. Something careful.
I kept reading.
'Because when I was falling apart in ways no one could see, he stayed.'
My hands tightened around the pages. I remembered those nights. The way she would sit at the edge of the bed, silent, eyes fixed somewhere far away. The way I'd sit beside her without asking questions I didn't want to hear answered too soon.
I hadn't known she noticed.
Not loudly.
Not heroically.
I almost smiled at that. Almost.
I never wanted to be a hero. I just didn't want to leave.
'He didn't try to save me or rewrite my past.'
I swallowed.
There were things about her past I never asked for details about. Not because I didn't care, but because I knew some truths needed air, not interrogation.
'He just sat beside me and let me be broken without making me feel like I was wrong for it.'
That was the moment my throat closed.
Because I remembered thinking, If I say the wrong thing, she'll disappear.
So I chose silence.
I chose staying.
I hadn't known it mattered this much.
'When my words came out tangled and unfinished, he listened anyway.'
I thought of the arguments that never became arguments. The conversations that ended with her staring at the floor and me saying, "We can talk later." I thought I'd failed her in those moments.
But she had heard me listening.
'I only see myself with him now.'
My vision blurred.
Not because she chose me over someone else.
But because she chose me with the truth in her hands.
'He's the one I ran to when the world felt too heavy.'
I remembered the way she would reach for me in her sleep. Not urgently. Just enough to know I was there. As if confirming reality.
'He's the one who stayed.'
I had never thought staying was something worth writing about.
I had always believed love needed proof, grand gestures, certainty, declarations. I didn't know endurance counted. I didn't know patience left fingerprints.
'If it's not him… then I don't think it could ever be anyone.'
I closed my eyes.
Not out of relief.
Out of fear.
Because I realized then, she had already chosen me long before she said it out loud. She chose me when it would have been easier not to. When her heart was still crowded with ghosts.
'I know one day I won't regret choosing him.'
The word choosing sat heavy in my chest.
She wasn't trapped here.
She wasn't settling.
She stayed.
'Because loving him was never a mistake.'
I closed the diary gently. As if it might bruise.
I didn't feel triumphant.
I didn't feel victorious.
I felt humbled.
I stood there for a long time, the room quiet around me, realizing something I hadn't allowed myself to believe before, She didn't choose me because I was the safest option.
She chose me because I was the one who stayed when she was hardest to love.
And that,
that was enough.