Coming here every day, acting like you care about me, bringing me coffee, holding me when I cry, but flirting with other women behind my back? Maybe you should stop bothering me if you're so busy with your… girlfriends."
Min-seok froze. The small bag of pastries slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. His smile vanished completely, replaced by raw shock and deep hurt. His voice came out low, trembling with disbelief.
"Mi-Kyung… that was my cousin. She's visiting from out of town. She's family. Why would you say that? Why would you call her those things?"
Mi-Kyung opened her mouth to snap back, but the words died when she saw the single tear roll down his cheek. It glistened in the salon light before falling. His eyes—always so warm, so steady—were now shattered.
He took a shaky breath. "You think all of this was just me bothering you? Saving you from that rapist, getting you dressed in new clothes when you were shaking and naked and terrified, walking you home, staying with you all night while you cried yourself to sleep on my lap, singing you lullabies so you wouldn't have nightmares—leaving my own sisters to be looked after by the neighbor because you needed me more that night.
Checking on you every day, helping with the store, listening to you talk about your kids… all of that was just me bothering you?"
His voice cracked. "Tomorrow is my birthday. Ever since my mother was murdered by my father on that same day as my birthday, I haven't celebrated it. Not once. I was out celebrating my birthday that night… if I hadn't gone out, I could have stopped him. I could have saved her. My sisters wouldn't have been traumatized for life.
They wouldn't have seen their mother die. So I stopped celebrating. I stopped everything that made me happy because I felt guilty for not being there. I couldn't even see her for one last time. That woman you called a slut?
She's my cousin. She comes every year around this time to lift my mood, even if I don't want to, she keeps coming to me just to keep me from sinking into that darkness. She cheers me up because she knows how much I've suffered in silence, how much I've sacrificed for my sisters. And she does this because she cared for me and my happiness.
I never dated anyone—not because I couldn't, but because my sisters were my responsibility long before my own life. I wasn't going to date until I knew they were safe, until the nightmares stopped. My sisters know that.
That's why they call her every year even though they know she will come without even being called. But this year… I was going to invite you. I was going to let my sisters meet you. I thought you were close to me. I thought you were family.
I thought I could be vulnerable with you, the way you said that night—if I ever needed someone when I was lonely, when I was tired of being strong, you'd be there. I was going to ask you to be with me on my birthday.
Maybe even cry after all these years remembering my mother and all the pent up guilt I have which I never showed anyone I thought I would show it to you, be vulnerable with you. But you ruined it."
He wiped the tear away angrily, his voice breaking. "Congratulations. Thanks to you, I have no will to celebrate my birthday after almost ten years. Just like you said—I won't bother you ever again. I won't show you my face anymore. Thanks for everything you've done for me, and sorry for bothering you, goodbye."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with pain. "I thought you would be with me when I started faltering… When I was weak, I thought you would support me, be my emotional anchor when I need it the most, and fill the void my mother left behind after her death. Guess I was wrong."
The door closed behind him.
Mi-Kyung stood frozen, the echo of the door slamming shut ringing in her ears like a death knell. The salon felt like it had been sucked of all air—cold, empty, suffocating. Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, knees hitting the tiles with a sharp thud that echoed through her bones. Pain shot up her legs, but it was nothing compared to the agony ripping through her chest.
Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that tore out of her throat—raw, ugly cries that shook her whole body. 'What have I done?' The single tear she had seen roll down his cheek replayed in her mind over and over, like a cruel loop.
That one tear—silent, heartbreaking—told her everything. He had been telling the truth. Every single word. And she had attacked him—called his cousin a slut, accused him of being a player—when he was already hurting the most, vulnerable in a way he had never shown her before.
She had ruined his birthday. The one he was finally going to celebrate after ten years of guilt and grief. The one his sisters had urged him to have, begging him to let go of the pain for just one day.
The one he wanted to share with her—letting her meet his family, opening up his heart. And she had blown it all up in a fit of jealousy she hadn't even understood until it was too late.
Guilt crashed over her in waves so strong she could barely breathe—hot, suffocating, like drowning in fire. She rocked back and forth on the floor, arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold herself together. 'How could I do this to him?
The one person who always protected me, who always thought of my happiness first?' Her heart tore itself apart, piece by piece, the pain so sharp it felt physical. She felt miserable, immature, selfish—a monster who had hurt the kindest soul she knew.
Memories flooded her—how in just a few weeks after that first night, she had become so attached to him. At first, it was his kindness: the way he checked on her every day, brought coffee with a smile, fixed small things around the salon without asking.
Then it deepened—the late talks where she shared her fears about being alone, and he listened without judgment, squeezing her hand gently. The walks in the park where she leaned on his shoulder, feeling safe for the first time in years.
The hugs that lingered a little longer each time, his warmth seeping into her soul. She had grown dependent on his presence—his laugh made her days brighter, his touch calmed her storms. Without him, everything felt gray, empty. And now... now he is gone because of her.
She cried until her throat burned raw, curling into a tight ball on the cold floor, whispering over and over, "I'm sorry... please come back... I'm sorry."
For the next four days, she was a complete wreck—barely functioning, her mind trapped in a spiral of paranoia and fear. She hardly slept, her nights filled with nightmares: the landlord attacking her again, but this time Min-seok walked away, leaving her alone and broken.
Or worse—Min-seok crying alone on his birthday, his face twisted in pain because of her words. She woke up gasping, heart pounding, reaching for her phone to check if he had messaged—nothing.
Every time the phone rang, she lunged for it, hands shaking, praying it was him. "Min-seok?" she'd whisper desperately, only to hear a client's voice or a wrong number. Her heart would crash, leaving her breathless, tears starting all over again.
Every jingle of the shop bell made her spin around, pulse racing, expecting his familiar smile—but it was always someone else. The disappointment hit like a punch, leaving her dizzy and nauseous.
She wore the same blouse and skirt he had bought her that first night, refusing to wash them, clinging to the faint trace of his scent like a lifeline.
It was the only thing that felt real, the only reminder he had been there. She stared out the window for hours, whispering to herself, "Please come back… please… I can't do this without you."
Paranoia gripped her—every shadow made her jump, thinking it was him coming back, or worse, him leaving forever. The fear was constant, haunting: 'What if he never forgives me?
What if I've lost him for good?' It ate at her, making her stomach twist, her hands shake. She couldn't eat, couldn't focus—customers asked if she was okay, but she just forced a smile, dying inside.
By the fourth day, the attachment she had built over those few weeks felt like a chain around her heart—pulling tighter with every hour he was gone. He had become her anchor, her light, and without him, the world was dark and terrifying.
The absence haunted her every thought, every breath—fear-inducing, paralyzing. She felt like she was unraveling, piece by piece, desperate for just one more chance to make it right.
Finally, on that fourth day, she saw him passing by the shop on the sidewalk—head down, hands in his pockets. Her heart leaped. She bolted out the door, barefoot, grabbing his arm.
"Min-seok! Please—come inside!"
He stopped, expression guarded, eyes still carrying the hurt she had caused. She pulled him into the salon, flipped the "Closed" sign, locked the door, and led him to the private back room.
A/N: If my story made you smile even once, that's a win for me. That's what I want to live for—brightening dull days and reminding people that joy still exists. My dream is to keep getting better, to someday reach a legendary level of storytelling.
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