Chapter One Hundred Sixteen: The Silhouette in My Chest
His POV – Kim Taehyun
Spring, 9:07 PM. Again.
I sat in the leather armchair by the window, the diary open on my lap, the lamp casting a soft amber glow across the worn pages. Outside, the cherry blossoms were falling—just like that night in Rome. Just like every spring that had haunted me since.
I turned the page.
"I saw him again today. He always walks with his hands in his pockets, like he's hiding too much of himself from the world. I don't know his name. I've never seen his face. Just his back. Tall. Broad. Confident, but heavy. Like he's carrying storms beneath that coat."
My throat tightened.
"I'm not even sure if he's real. What kind of girl falls in love with a silhouette? But here I am, sitting at the same bench with the same warm tea cup. Watching the same stranger walk past… and feeling the ache."
I pressed my palm flat against the page, as if I could feel the warmth of your hand through the paper. As if I could reach back through time and touch the girl who had been watching me, waiting for me, loving me without ever knowing my name.
"I wait for him now, every day. I try to pretend I'm reading or sketching… But really—I'm just hoping today will be different. That he'll turn around. Just once."
A sharp ache bloomed in my chest.
"I wonder what his eyes look like. I dream of them sometimes—deep, dark, full of secrets. I wonder what his voice sounds like. I imagine it low, soft, the kind that could shatter me with a whisper."
"But it never happens. He never turns. Never speaks. He just walks past, like I'm haunted by willingly."
"And I— I just sit there, quietly loving him with every passing day. A stranger who doesn't know he owns a page in my story."
The diary trembled in my hands.
My knuckles were white where I clutched the edges. My jaw was tight, my throat burning with the weight of words I couldn't speak.
You.
It was you all along.
I pushed back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling, the diary pressed to my chest like a heartbeat I'd been searching for.
"You saw me." The words came out rough, scraped raw. "You waited. You prayed to see me. You were mine before fate even let me meet you properly."
I closed my eyes.
The image of you—reaching for me through the broken glass, your hand outstretched, your eyes watching me leave—flashed behind my lids.
"And I left you bleeding that day."
I looked back down at the page, my fingers tracing the curve of your handwriting. The loops of your letters. The small hearts you'd drawn in the margins. The way you'd underlined words you wanted to remember.
"You loved me first. Even before I had a name in your life."
I rested my forehead on the diary, the leather cool against my skin.
"From now on… I'll fill every blank page of this diary," I whispered. "With a life where you'll never have to beg fate again. You don't need to wait anymore. I'm here now. All yours."
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♡ Entry: My Sis, My World ♡
I turned the page, and my breath caught.
The handwriting was different here—softer, more intimate. The margins were filled with tiny doodles: flowers, stars, a heart with wings. Some lines were highlighted in blue, others in red. A small, hand-drawn love sign sat beside a paragraph, as if you'd wanted to mark it forever.
"If there's one prayer I whispered more than anything else… It was for her happiness. For someone to love her the way she loves—quietly, fiercely, endlessly. To hold her like the world once forgot to."
"To look at her like she's the only thing worth believing in."
I swallowed hard.
"She was always my mama bear—Strong. Protective. Too wise for her age. When the world turned cold, she wrapped me in warmth. When life tested us—she became the shield, the guide, the glue."
My jaw tightened. A long, shaky breath escaped me.
You had loved her so selflessly. So deeply. It brought an ache to my ribs I couldn't name.
"I was the childish one. She was the fire & calm. The planner. The protector. The one who carries me when I didn't even know I was falling. My sister is not just my family—She's my soul's twin born from the same ache, the same hope, the same dream."
I read further, my eyes tracing every word.
"When our parents died, she buried her childhood so mine could live a little longer."
"She deserves the sun. The stars. A love that never makes her question her worth. A home. A life so soft & radiant it erases every wound she ever carried in silence."
"Having her as my sister… It's one of the greatest blessings this cruel world has ever given me. She is my best friend. My heart's lighthouse. My constant. My universe."
"< All I ever wanted was to see her happy. Truly. Deeply. Forever happy. > Even if I was nowhere to witness it—I just needed to know…. she got her forever. ♡"
I leaned back in the chair.
The silence in the room felt sacred—wrapped in your words, your hopes, your dreams, your hidden ache.
I had read this entry many times before. But tonight, it hit harder.
You had written about her the way I wished someone had written about me. The way I wished I could write about you.
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That Night – The Rain & The Whisper
The rain whispered against the windowpane, soft and relentless. I sat in the dark, the diary still open in my lap, my reflection a ghost in the glass.
"You wanted someone to love your sister like this…" I murmured, my voice barely audible over the rain. "But I'll love you more than the universe ever could plan for."
I closed the diary softly, holding it like a fragile treasure—like something that could shatter if I held too tight.
"You fill your pages with dreams for others," I whispered, brushing my thumb over your name on the inside cover. "Let me be the one who fills your dreams now."
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♡ The Night He Opened the Diary for the First Time Again ♡
Three Months Earlier
The fire crackled in the marble hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. I sat in the same chair, the leather-bound diary open on my lap, my fingers trembling slightly as I turned each page.
I had found it a month ago—your bag, your diary, your words—hidden in the evidence locker, forgotten by everyone but me. I hadn't dared to open it until tonight.
You were gone.
Lost in the wreckage of that night. Your name had vanished from every system. No news. No trace. No proof that you had ever existed.
But your words were here.
"She's my world. My second mother. The only person who ever made me feel safe. I want her to have the kind of love I never dared dream of myself…."
I closed the diary gently, my eyes trained on the flames.
I didn't know who you were—not yet. But your words hit something deep inside my chest. Something raw and violent and helpless.
A girl who was lost. A sister who was still out there, searching.
I had power. I had reach. I had resources that spanned continents.
I had to do something.
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A Week Later – Private Meeting Room, Night
I sat across from a tall man in a navy blue suit, no tie, his shirt open just slightly at the neck. Elegance and confidence wrapped in quiet warmth. My childhood friend. CEO of a global publishing firm. Known for his wit, his kindness, and a fiercely loyal heart.
Jihan.
I slid a photograph across the table.
"Her name's Arshi." My voice was low, measured. "She's been looking for her sister—nonstop. No clue she's being followed for protection. She's alone. Overworked. Exhausted. She owns a small flower shop and works part-time at a café." I paused. "She deserves more."
Jihan frowned, picking up the photo. His eyes softened as he studied her face—the dark hair, the tired eyes, the faint smile that didn't quite reach her gaze.
"Is she the girl who's always at the Han River pier, staring at the distance?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." I looked away. "I want you to meet her. Not as a favor. Just… if fate agrees with me. She deserves someone who can hold her when the world feels too much. You're that kind of man."
Jihan smiled gently, setting the photo down. "You're matchmaking now?"
I met his eyes. "I owe her more than I can explain."
He didn't ask what I meant. He just nodded.
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