Against the Odds

Jinsol sat in her high-rise office, fingers gripping the case file so tightly that the edges began to crumple. Her jaw was locked, her pulse a steady drum of irritation.

Seol Yoona.

The name glared at her from the folder, taunting her. She should hate this woman. She should want nothing more than to see her suffer, to let her deal with the consequences of whatever mess she had gotten herself into this time. But instead, here she was, pulse unsteady, her thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and something dangerously close to concern.

A while later, the phone rang, and she nearly ignored it. But she knew who it was.

“Jinsol,” Yoona’s voice was quiet, fragile in a way that made something ache deep in Jinsol’s chest.

“I— I need your help.”

Jinsol closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Yoona that she wasn’t her lifeline anymore, that she had no obligation to save her.

But her lips betrayed her.

“Tell me everything.”

"Can you meet me at my apartment? I'm scared to go out."

Yoona explained and Jinsol agreed. She ended the call immediately, took her car key and rushed out of her office to drive herself to Yoona's.

On the road, Jinsol gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, her knuckles turning white as she maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past her, but she barely registered them, her mind drowning in thoughts of the woman waiting for her at the end of this drive.

Her stomach twisted with something she refused to name. Nerves? No, that was ridiculous. She wasn’t nervous. She was simply... cautious. That was it. This wasn’t about Yoona—it was about the case. About proving the truth. About ensuring justice was served.

And yet, her foot hesitated on the gas pedal as she reached a red light, her pulse hammering in her ears. The thought of seeing Yoona again, of being in the same room with her, of hearing her voice in person instead of through a phone—God, it was suffocating.

She exhaled sharply and shook her head. Get a grip, Jinsol. It’s just another case. Just another client. But even as she told herself that, she knew it was a lie.

Because Seol Yoona had never been just anything to her. And she never would be.

When Jinsol pulled up to Yoona’s apartment building, the familiarity hit her like a punch to the gut. The soft glow of the lobby lights, the chipped paint on the entrance railing, even the way the elevator doors took just a second too long to close—it all felt like a ghost of the past reaching out to drag her back in.

She sat in the car, fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel, an overwhelming urge to turn around clawing at her chest. She shouldn’t be here. She had promised herself she was done with this place, done with Yoona. Taking this case would mean reopening wounds she had spent years trying to close. It would mean stepping back into the storm that had once nearly consumed her.

But then she thought of Yoona’s voice over the phone—shaky, uncertain, laced with a vulnerability she hadn’t heard in so long. And despite every screaming instinct telling her to walk away, she unclenched her fists, forced a steady breath, and pushed open the car door.

She was here now. There was no turning back.

Yoona stood in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the edge of the doorframe as if grounding herself. The moment she saw Jinsol, her breath hitched—relief flooded her expression, but it was followed by something else. Guilt. A deep, crushing guilt that darkened her eyes, made her lips part slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Jinsol didn’t say anything, only stared, waiting. And Yoona, for a fleeting second, wanted nothing more than to close the distance, to pull Jinsol into her arms and bury her face against her shoulder. But she couldn’t. She had lost that right a long time ago.

Instead, she swallowed hard and whispered.

“You came.”

Jinsol scoffed, setting down her briefcase with unnecessary force.

“Against my better judgment.”

Yoona let out a dry laugh, but there was no real amusement in it.

“Figures.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” Jinsol warned, scanning the cluttered table where stacks of police reports lay.

“I’m here for the case, not for you.”

Yoona flinched, but she nodded.

“I understand.”

Yoona’s apartment was dimly lit, eerily quiet except for the faint sound of the city beyond the windows. The moment Jinsol stepped inside, she felt suffocated—not just by the space but by the memories clinging to the walls like ghosts that refused to be exorcised.

Her eyes instinctively flickered toward the table where their framed pictures had once been. The surface was bare now, wiped clean of any trace of them. The wall where their wedding photo had once hung was empty, leaving behind only faint outlines of where it used to be. Jinsol felt a dull ache settle in her chest.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Jinsol hated it. She hated how much she still noticed the way Yoona’s hands trembled, the way her lips parted like she had something else to say but swallowed it back.

“They think I killed Kang Seokmin,” Yoona murmured finally. “The evidence is bad, Jinsol. I— I don’t know how to fight this.”

Jinsol’s fingers twitched at her side. “Then we’ll prove them wrong.”

Yoona blinked up at her, lips parting slightly. “Just like that?”

Jinsol clenched her fists. “You might be a lot of things, Yoona. But a murderer? No. And I hate that I know that.”

That night, Yoona insisted Jinsol stay over. It was already past midnight, and the exhaustion was evident in the way Jinsol rubbed her temples, her posture slightly slumped despite her attempts to appear unaffected.

“You’re not driving back this late,” Yoona stated firmly, arms crossed as she stood by the couch.

Jinsol frowned, standing stiffly.

“I’ll be fine.”

Yoona shook her head.

“Just stay. The guest room is still there.”

Jinsol wanted to refuse. She wanted to pick up her things, walk out, and never set foot in this place longer than necessary. But the sheer insistence in Yoona’s voice, the way her eyes flickered with something almost desperate, made Jinsol hesitate.

“Fine,” she muttered, grabbing her things and heading to the guest room.

The tension hung thick between them as they moved through the apartment like strangers, careful not to step too close. The air was filled with unsaid words, memories that neither dared to acknowledge. Jinsol felt the weight of it pressing on her chest as she settled into the unfamiliar sheets, the silence of the apartment too loud against the chaos in her head.

Later, when exhaustion finally pulled Yoona to her own bed, she turned onto her side, eyes landing on the small frame still sitting on her bedside table. It was the only one she had kept—the last remnant of them that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to remove.

She traced the edges with her fingers, the image of their younger, happier selves staring back at her. Jinsol had been smiling in the photo, a rare, unguarded expression that Yoona used to take for granted.

A lump formed in her throat, and she quickly turned the frame face-down, squeezing her eyes shut as she willed herself not to cry.

On the other side of the apartment, Jinsol stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, feeling the distance between them like an open wound neither of them knew how to close.

As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sleep refused to come. Something about this room felt... wrong. The emptiness of it, the way it lacked any real warmth. And then it hit her.

This was supposed to be their baby’s room.

The realization sent a sharp pang through her chest. They had spent months planning, picking out colors, debating over names. Jinsol could still remember the way Yoona’s face would light up every time she talked about the future—a future that had never come to be.

Now, the room was just that. A room. Empty, void of the dreams they had once shared.

Jinsol squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to think about it. But the past was relentless, seeping into every corner of her mind, refusing to be forgotten.

The next morning, the tension lingered like an unspoken truth between them. Yoona hesitated outside the guest room door before knocking lightly.

“Jinsol,” she called, voice soft yet uncertain. “Wake up, I'm making you breakfast.”

Jinsol groaned lightly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before reluctantly dragging herself out of bed. When she stepped into the kitchen, the awkwardness was suffocating. Yoona busied herself with the stove, not quite meeting Jinsol’s gaze, while Jinsol stood by the table, feeling out of place in a home that had once been hers.

As Yoona cooked, her mind drifted to the past—how Jinsol would cling onto her whenever she made breakfast, wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing her cheek against her shoulder. How Jinsol would mumble complaints about waking up early, her voice groggy but affectionate. Yoona used to find it annoying, but now, standing alone by the stove, she realized how much she missed it.

She risked a glance at Jinsol, who sat with her messy hair and tired eyes, barely functioning so early in the morning. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at Yoona’s lips.

She had always found Jinsol’s messy hair cute.

They both went to Yoona's office to gather more information about the incident. Jinsol had planned to ask Yoona's co-workers about the incident for the day.

The drive to Yoona’s office was painfully awkward. Jinsol kept her eyes on the road, lips pressed into a thin line, while Yoona shifted uncomfortably in her seat, occasionally glancing at Jinsol as if debating whether to speak.

Eventually, Yoona broke the silence. “So… how have you been?”

Jinsol’s grip tightened on the wheel.

“Fine.”

Yoona huffed a quiet laugh.

“Just fine?”

Jinsol sighed. “Yes, Yoona. Just fine.”

Yoona didn’t seem deterred.

“Are you still working crazy hours? You always used to overwork yourself.”

Jinsol shot her a quick glance before returning her focus to the road.

“Why do you care?”

Yoona hesitated before answering. “Because I still know you.”

Jinsol let out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t know me anymore.”

Silence settled over them again, thick with unsaid words. Yoona fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, biting her lip as if holding herself back from saying something more. But eventually, she let out a quiet sigh and turned her gaze to the window, watching the city lights pass by.

Jinsol didn’t say another word, but she felt the weight of Yoona’s presence beside her, pressing against her in ways she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

When Jinsol questioned Yoona’s co-workers at her office, frustration quickly bubbled up within her. Every answer she received was laced with doubt, skepticism, and carefully measured words that felt more like rehearsed lines than genuine recollections. No one was on Yoona’s side.

“She was always distant,” one of them had said.

“I never really trusted her,” another added.

Jinsol’s jaw clenched, her patience thinning with every dismissive remark. They were painting a version of Yoona she barely recognized—one that felt cold, calculating, deceitful. And it infuriated her.

By the time they left the office, Jinsol was seething. She didn’t look at Yoona as they walked to the car, but she could feel the tension radiating from her. The injustice of it all gnawed at her, and she hated how much she cared.

Because against her better judgment, she still wanted to prove Yoona’s innocence. Not just for the case—but for herself.

As the days passed, Jinsol and Yoona found themselves spending more time together, bound by necessity and the weight of the case. Late nights poured over files turned into quiet dinners shared in reluctant silence. What had started as awkward cohabitation became something... different.

Jinsol hated how easily they slipped back into certain rhythms. She hated how Yoona still knew exactly how she liked her coffee, how she still hummed the same old songs when she thought no one was listening. She hated how, despite everything, there were moments where she almost forgot why she had left in the first place.

But at the same time, she couldn't forgive. Couldn’t forget the pain, the betrayal, the years spent trying to piece herself back together. The tension between them was a fragile, unspoken thing—Yoona reaching out in small ways, Jinsol resisting at every turn.

Yet, in the quiet hours, when exhaustion dulled the sharp edges of her resentment, she caught herself looking at Yoona for too long. Remembering too much. Feeling too much. And it terrified her.

Because no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, part of her had never stopped wanting her.

One evening, Yoona was on her way home when she spotted Jinsol at a restaurant window. She slowed her steps, heart pounding as she took in the sight—Jinsol sitting across from another woman, smiling softly in a way that Yoona hadn’t seen in years.

Something inside her twisted painfully. She stood frozen, watching them, hands clenched into fists at her sides. It shouldn’t hurt. Jinsol was free to move on. She had every right.

And yet, when Yoona finally forced herself to turn away, her vision blurred. By the time she reached her apartment, she felt utterly hollow.

Yoona’s hands trembled as she stepped into her apartment, her mind still replaying the image of Jinsol smiling at someone else. The warmth in Jinsol’s eyes, the soft curve of her lips—it wasn’t for her anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.

She let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she walked toward her bedroom. The familiar sight of the small picture frame on her bedside table caught her eye. It was the only thing she hadn’t been able to let go of—the last reminder of a love she had destroyed.

Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before she picked it up. The photo inside was slightly faded now, but the memories it held were painfully sharp. Jinsol’s arm wrapped around her, their smiles genuine, filled with something that had felt unbreakable. But it had broken.

A choked sob escaped her lips as the overwhelming grief crashed into her. Before she could stop herself, she hurled the frame across the room. The sharp sound of glass shattering filled the space, a cruel echo of her own heart splintering apart.

Yoona sank to the floor, gasping as pain flared in her palm. She looked down to see a thin trail of blood seeping from a fresh cut—a consequence of her reckless outburst. But she barely felt it. The ache in her chest drowned out everything else.

She curled into herself, silent tears slipping down her face. Jinsol was moving on, and Yoona was still stuck, trapped in the ruins of what they used to be. And the worst part? She had no one to blame but herself.

When Jinsol saw Yoona again, the first thing she noticed was the bandage wrapped around her hand. A sharp pang of concern shot through her, but she quickly masked it with indifference. She wasn’t supposed to care—not anymore.

Yoona, on the other hand, looked almost unaffected, her expression carefully neutral, her posture composed. If Jinsol hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought Yoona was completely fine. But she did know better.

"What happened?"

Jinsol hesitated for a brief moment before instinctively reaching for Yoona’s injured hand. It wasn’t a conscious decision—just something in her compelled her to do it.

"Nothing."

But the second her fingers brushed against Yoona’s wrist, Yoona flinched and pulled away. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Jinsol noticed.

Yoona didn’t look at her, her expression unreadable.

"But—"

“I said it’s nothing,” she muttered, tucking her injured hand behind her back as if that would erase the moment entirely.

Jinsol felt something tighten in her chest. It wasn’t just the physical distance Yoona was keeping—it was everything. The quiet resignation in her voice, the deliberate way she refused to let Jinsol touch her.

She remembered the way Yoona used to cry—actual tears—whenever she cut herself while cooking. It didn’t even have to be deep. A single slip of the knife and Yoona would turn to her, lip trembling, hands shaking as she held up her finger like the world was ending.

“Jinsol, it stings,” she used to whine, crawling into Jinsol’s arms for comfort.

And Jinsol, despite how ridiculous it was, had always kissed the wound better, murmuring reassurances until Yoona stopped sniffling.

But now? Now, Yoona barely reacted to an injury bad enough to require a bandage. No complaints, no tears, no reaching for Jinsol’s comfort.

Yoona just… acted like it didn’t matter.

Jinsol clenched her fists. The realization sat uncomfortably in her chest, twisting into something she didn’t want to name. She wanted to press, to demand answers, to know why Yoona was suddenly the one pulling away. But instead, she forced herself to exhale, to swallow down whatever was rising in her throat.

“Fine,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Yoona nodded, her face carefully composed. “That’s the plan.”

And just like that, the gap between them grew wider.

The tension between them had been unbearable from the moment Jinsol stepped into Yoona’s apartment. Days of pretending, of acting like they were nothing more than ex-wife and lawyer, had worn them both thin. The weight of unsaid words, of lingering stares and restrained emotions, had built up like an impending storm.

And now, it was about to break.

Jinsol stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Yoona was by the kitchen counter, her hands gripping the edge as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The space between them was small, but the distance had never felt greater.

Yoona exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

"Why are you even still here, Jinsol?”

Jinsol’s eyes flickered up, her expression unreadable.

“Excuse me?”

Yoona turned to face her fully, the frustration in her voice unmistakable. “You don’t even want to be here. You act like this case is just another job, like I’m just another client. So why are you still doing this?”

Jinsol scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Yoona clenched her jaw. “Then make me get it, because right now, all I see is someone who clearly regrets every second she’s spending with me.”

Jinsol took a step closer, her voice rising. “And what do you want me to say, huh? That this is easy for me? That sitting across from you every day, pretending like we don’t have history, like we don’t have scars, is something I can just brush off?”

Yoona’s throat tightened. “You left, Jinsol. You left me like I was nothing.”

Jinsol’s breath hitched.

“And you let me!”

Yoona’s expression twisted with pain. “Because you made me! You walked away, Jinsol! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay when you had already decided we were done?”
Jinsol’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “You could’ve fought for me!”

Yoona let out a bitter laugh, her eyes glistening.

“Oh, that’s rich. You wanted me to fight? You wanted me to chase after you while you slammed the door in my face?”

Jinsol’s voice wavered. “I wanted you to show me that I still mattered.”

Yoona took a shaky breath, her voice breaking.

“And I wanted you to love me enough to stay.”

Silence. A deafening, crushing silence.

Jinsol’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her emotions spiraling out of control. “You think it didn’t kill me to leave? You think I just walked away like it meant nothing? I had to force myself to let go because I thought that was what you wanted.”

Yoona’s tears finally slipped free, her hands trembling.

“I never wanted that, Jinsol. I never wanted to lose you.”

Jinsol let out a shuddering breath, her walls cracking. “Then why did it feel like I was the only one breaking?”

Yoona stared at her, and for the first time, there was no anger—only devastation. “You weren’t.”

Their breaths were uneven, their emotions raw. And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of their past and the wounds they had never truly healed, they were just two broken hearts standing in the wreckage of what once was.

Jinsol took a step back, her breathing ragged, her hands shaking at her sides. The weight of their words, the sheer exhaustion of it all, pressed down on her like a boulder. She had come here to help, to do her job, but this—this was too much.

“I can’t do this right now,” she muttered, voice hoarse.

Yoona’s eyes widened, panic flickering across her face. “Jinsol—”

But Jinsol was already turning toward the door, her footsteps unsteady, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached for the handle, hesitating for just a second—just long enough for doubt to creep in—but the pain in her chest screamed louder. Without another word, she pulled the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her.

The sound echoed through the apartment, a cruel reminder of the last time Jinsol had walked away.

Yoona stood frozen, staring at the door, her entire body trembling. It was happening again. The same gut-wrenching feeling, the same helplessness, the same unbearable silence after Jinsol left.

She sucked in a breath, but it came out shaky, uneven. A sob clawed its way up her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was crumbling to the floor, gripping her arms as if that would somehow hold her together.

She should’ve stopped her.

She should’ve said something, done something—anything to keep Jinsol from walking away again.

But she didn’t.

And now she was alone. Again.

Jinsol’s grip on the steering wheel trembled as the weight in her chest grew unbearable. The road stretched ahead of her in a blur of city lights, but she wasn’t really seeing any of it. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her throat tight with emotions she had been forcing down for far too long. The argument replayed in her mind, their voices overlapping, sharp and unrelenting—resentment, blame, and the pain neither of them could ever seem to escape.

Her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as if outrunning the memories, but nothing could silence them. Nothing could stop the ache inside her from twisting deeper.

A strangled sound broke from her lips as she slammed her hand against the steering wheel, the loud impact echoing through the car. Once. Twice. Again. Harder. Her palm stung from the force, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. It wasn’t enough.

The car swerved slightly, and she forced herself to pull over, tires screeching against the pavement. The moment she was still, the silence was deafening. Her shoulders heaved as she sucked in a shaky breath, but the pressure inside her didn’t ease.

With a sudden, helpless cry, she pounded her fists against the steering wheel, her body shaking with the force of her grief. She hit it over and over, frustration and sorrow bleeding into every motion. The pain in her hands was nothing compared to the hollow agony in her chest.

She was mourning. Not just Yoona. Not just their past. But the version of herself that once believed they were unbreakable.

As the rain pattered against the windshield, Jinsol finally let go, her forehead falling against the steering wheel, tears slipping down her cheeks. She had spent so long trying to convince herself that she was over this, over her. But as her silent sobs wracked her body, she knew the truth.

She had never stopped loving Yoona.

And maybe that was the worst part of all.

---

The apartment was unbearably silent. It had been for months.

Yoona sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television screen that wasn’t even turned on. The room felt cold, lifeless—just like everything between her and Jinsol.

Jinsol walked in late, as she always did these days. Her coat was damp from the rain outside, and she looked exhausted, but she didn’t say a word to Yoona as she set down her bag.

She didn’t have to. This was their routine now.

Yoona exhaled sharply, fingers digging into her knees. She had told herself to be patient, to give Jinsol time, but how much longer could they keep pretending that things were fine? That their marriage wasn’t crumbling under the weight of something neither of them dared to speak about?

Finally, she broke the silence.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?”

Jinsol froze mid-step, her body going rigid. “…Talk about what?”

Yoona let out a bitter laugh. “You know what.”

Jinsol clenched her jaw, shoulders rising with tension. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The words felt like a slap.

Yoona shot up from the couch, her emotions unraveling faster than she could stop them. “Nothing to talk about?” Her voice cracked. “Jinsol, I lost our baby.”

Jinsol flinched, the pain flashing in her eyes for a brief moment before she masked it again. “I know that,” she said quietly.

“Then say something! Feel something!” Yoona’s voice rose, her hands trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

Jinsol exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “What do you want me to say, Yoona?”

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t care!” Yoona shouted, her vision blurring with tears. “I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me that you miss them, that you’re hurting, that you still—” Her voice broke. “That you still love me.”

Jinsol's eyes darkened. "Of course, I still love you," she snapped. "But love isn't fixing this, is it?"

Yoona shook her head in disbelief. "No. Because you won't let it."

Jinsol let out a bitter laugh, looking away. "And what about you, Yoona? You've been shutting me out just as much."

"I was grieving!"

"So was I!" Jinsol's voice cracked, her own pain finally breaking through. "But you never once asked how I felt. You never once looked at me and wondered if I was drowning too."

Yoona stared at her, stunned. "Because you never let me."

Silence.

Jinsol let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the edge of the dining table as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. "Maybe we just weren't meant to be."

Yoona's breath hitched. "You don't mean that."

Jinsol didn't answer.

And that was all Yoona needed to hear.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she took a step back. "So that's it? You're giving up?"

Jinsol's lips parted, but she hesitated. She wanted to take it back-to say that she was just tired, that she didn't mean it. But she didn't.

Yoona's expression crumbled, and she let out a broken laugh. "I hate you for this."

Jinsol swallowed hard. "I know."

And just like that, the foundation of their marriage cracked beyond repair.

A week later, they decided to sign the divorce papers.

Yoona sat in the lawyer's office, staring blankly at the divorce papers in front of her. The words on the page blurred together, but the bold letters at the top-Petition for Dissolution of Marriage-burned into her vision like a cruel reminder of what was about to happen.

Jinsol sat across from her, hands folded neatly on the table, posture stiff. She looked composed-too composed. But Yoona knew better. She knew how to read between the cracks, how to see the tension in Jinsol's shoulders, the way her fingers twitched slightly against the wooden surface.

Neither of them spoke.

The lawyer cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You've both reviewed the terms. If there are no further objections, we can proceed."

Yoona's grip tightened around the pen. Every fiber of her being screamed at her not to do it, not to let this be the end. But what was left to fight for? They had already torn each other apart.

Jinsol was the first to sign.

Her hand didn't waver as she pressed the pen to paper, her signature smooth, practiced-like she had already accepted this.

The moment she placed the pen down, she let out the quietest breath, as if she had been holding it in this entire time.

Then, it was Yoona's turn.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pen. She swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly to push back the tears that threatened to spill.

She hesitated.

Say something. Ask her to stop this. Tell her you still love her.

But Jinsol didn't look at her.

She just sat there, waiting.

And maybe that was the answer Yoona needed.

With a deep, shaky breath, she pressed the pen to the paper and signed her name.

It was over.

The lawyer nodded, gathering the papers. "That concludes the process. The court will finalize everything within the next few weeks."

Yoona didn't move. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, nails digging into her skin to keep herself from breaking in front of Jinsol.

She should have gotten up and left. But something inside her couldn't-wouldn't-move until she heard Jinsol say something, anything.

Instead, Jinsol stood first, smoothing down her coat. She hesitated for the briefest moment before finally speaking.

Take care, Yoona."

Yoona's breath hitched. That's it?

She lifted her gaze, eyes pleading, searching for something-anything-in Jinsol's expression that told her this wasn't what she wanted.

But Jinsol was already walking away.

And just like that, Seol Yoona became Jinsol's past.

---

A week had passed since their argument, but the weight of it still lingered like an open wound. Jinsol had buried herself in work, forcing herself to move forward, to not dwell on the pain that still simmered beneath the surface. But it didn't matter how much she tried to suppress it-Yoona was still there, in the quiet moments, in the memories that refused to fade.

Now, standing in front of the same apartment door she had walked away from in anger, Jinsol felt her pulse quicken. She exhaled sharply, pushing down the hesitation clawing at her chest, and knocked.

The door opened, revealing Yoona.

She looked exhausted. Dark circles framed her eyes, her usual sharp gaze dulled with something unspoken. But what caught Jinsol's attention the most was her bandaged hand, the one she had refused to explain before.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with everything they had yet to say.

Yoona was the first to break the silence. "Come in," she said, voice steady but distant, as if forcing herself to remain unaffected.

Jinsol stepped inside, the familiar scent of the apartment washing over her. But something was different. The space felt emptier-colder. The frame that once sat on the bedside table was gone.

Yoona walked toward the kitchen, avoiding eye contact. "We need to go over everything before the trial," she muttered, pulling out documents from the counter.

Jinsol swallowed. It was strange-after all the time they had spent fighting, all the tension between them, now they had to sit across from each other like nothing had happened. Like their past wasn't hanging between them, suffocating and unspoken.

She took a seat at the dining table, watching as Yoona flipped through the pages with mechanical precision. There was no hesitation in her movements, no lingering glances. It was like she had shut herself off completely.

Something about it made Jinsol's stomach twist.

They had hurt each other in so many ways. But this? This cold indifference? It was the worst pain of all.

Yoona gripped the edge of the table, her fingers tightening against the cool wood. She could feel the words clawing at her throat, desperate to escape-to explain, to apologize, to say something-but she couldn't. Not when Jinsol sat across from her, flipping through the case files with forced indifference, refusing to meet her gaze.

She swallowed hard. "Jinsol..."

Jinsol didn't look up. "Let's just get this over with." Her tone was flat, emotionless, as if they were nothing more than strangers discussing business.

Yoona's nails dug into her palm. "I-" She hesitated, feeling the weight of all the unspoken words between them pressing down on her chest. She needed to say something. She needed Jinsol to know she was sorry.

But before she could continue, Jinsol let out a sharp exhale and closed the folder with a thud. "Don't, Yoona."

Yoona froze.

Jinsol finally lifted her gaze, her dark eyes unreadable. "Don't try to explain. Don't try to apologize. It won't change anything."

Yoona felt her heart squeeze painfully. "But-"

Jinsol stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back. "We're here for the case, nothing else. So let's stick to that."
Yoona bit the inside of her cheek, forcing back the lump in her throat. She wanted to fight back, to tell Jinsol that she needed to say it, that she needed to explain herself before it was too late. But looking at Jinsol now-her arms crossed, her face set in cold determination-Yoona knew.

Jinsol wouldn't let her.

So Yoona swallowed the apology, buried the words she had wanted to say for so long, and nodded. "Alright."

But as she looked away, her chest ached with the realization that this silence between them might never be broken.

Yoona clenched her fists, frustration boiling beneath her skin. She had spent so much time avoiding this-avoiding them-but not anymore. If this was the last time they would ever truly talk, then she refused to let Jinsol walk away without knowing the truth.

She took a shaky breath. "No, Jinsol. I'm not letting this go."

Jinsol tensed, her jaw tightening. "Yoona-"

"I don't care if you don't want to hear it," Yoona interrupted, voice rising slightly, raw with emotion. "You can hate me all you want, but you will listen."

Jinsol exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "This isn't about us. It never was."

Yoona let out a bitter laugh, blinking away the burn of tears. "Maybe not for you. But for me? It always has been." She stepped closer, her voice trembling. "Do you think I don't regret everything? That I don't wake up every day wishing I could go back and do things differently?"

Jinsol remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Yoona took another step forward. "I was scared. After the miscarriage, I-I didn't know how to handle it. I lost our baby, Jinsol. Our baby. And instead of letting you in, I shut you out." Her voice cracked, her chest tightening. "And I watched you leave because of it."

Jinsol's fingers curled into fists at her sides, but she still didn't look at her.

Yoona let out a broken breath. "Do you think I don't hate myself for it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "For breaking us apart? For making you feel like you had no choice but to walk away?"

Jinsol's head snapped up, her eyes burning with something unreadable. "You think I wanted to leave?" she spat. "Do you have any idea what it felt like to love someone who wouldn't even look at me anymore?"

Yoona flinched, guilt slamming into her like a tidal wave.

"I begged for you to talk to me, Yoona," Jinsol continued, her voice thick with emotion. "I needed you, but you disappeared right in front of me. And by the time you realized it, it was already too late."

Tears slipped down Yoona's cheeks, but she didn't wipe them away. She didn't even care. "I know. I know I hurt you. And I hate myself for it." She swallowed, taking a deep breath. "But I never stopped loving you, Jinsol."

Jinsol sucked in a breath, her body going rigid.

Yoona stepped even closer, her voice softer now, more vulnerable than ever. "Even after everything, after the pain, after the divorce-I still love you." She let out a shaky exhale. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect anything. I just needed you to know."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Jinsol stared at her, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sharp inhale, she turned away. "I can't do this," she muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Yoona's heart sank, but she didn't try to stop her.

Because deep down, she had known all along-some things were too broken to fix.

Jinsol's hands trembled as she clenched them at her sides. She had spent so long burying her feelings, locking them away behind walls she thought were unbreakable.

But Yoona had always been the one person who could slip through the cracks, no matter how much Jinsol tried to keep her out.

And now, as Yoona stood before her-vulnerable, desperate, raw-Jinsol couldn't hold it in any longer.

"You think you were the only one suffering?" Jinsol's voice shook with barely contained emotion. "You think I just walked away because I wanted to?"

Yoona's breath hitched, but she didn't speak.

Jinsol let out a bitter laugh, her vision blurring. "I fought for us, Yoona. I fought until I had nothing left." Her voice cracked as the memories flooded back-the sleepless nights, the unanswered calls, the way Yoona had shut her out completely after the miscarriage. "I begged you to let me in, to let me share the pain with you. But you didn't. You pushed me away until I had no choice but to leave."

Yoona's lips parted, her own tears falling freely. "Jinsol..."

Jinsol wiped at her face, hating how much she was breaking in front of her. "Do you know how much I hated myself for leaving? How many nights I laid awake wondering if I should've just stayed, even if it killed me?" She let out a shuddering breath. "But I was drowning, Yoona. And you let me."

Yoona's face twisted in anguish. "I didn't mean to-"

"But you did." Jinsol cut her off, her voice quieter now, pained. "And I tried to move on. I wanted to move on." She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "But the truth is... I never did."

Yoona sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

Jinsol let out a broken laugh. "I hate you, Yoona. I hate how you still have this hold on me. I hate how I can't even look at you without remembering everything." Her voice wavered, her facade crumbling. "I hate that after everything, after all this time... I still love you."

Silence.

Yoona stepped closer, her eyes searching Jinsol's face as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard. "Jinsol..."

Jinsol shook her head, quietly tearing up but swallowing hard. "It doesn't change anything," she whispered. "Loving you doesn't erase the pain."

Yoona's face crumbled, and Jinsol hated how much it still hurt to see her like this.

Yoona took a hesitant step forward, her breath unsteady as she reached out. Her fingers trembled as they brushed against Jinsol's cheek, warm and damp with tears.

Jinsol flinched at the touch, every part of her screaming to pull away-to push Yoona back and put up the walls she had spent years reinforcing. But she couldn't. She was too tired, too broken, too weak to fight it anymore.

Yoona's thumb gently wiped away a tear, lingering for a moment longer than it should have. "You're crying," she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Jinsol let out a shaky laugh, bitter and raw. "Of course I am," she murmured. "I hate this. I hate you.”

Yoona's hand faltered for a moment, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she cupped Jinsol's face with both hands, forcing their eyes to meet. "Then push me away," she said, voice shaking. "If you really hate me, then do it."

Jinsol clenched her fists at her sides, but she didn't move. She couldn't move. The weight of everything-the past, the pain, the love that refused to die-held her in place.

Yoona's eyes softened, filling with something Jinsol didn't want to name. "You can't, can you?"

Jinsol inhaled sharply, her body betraying her with the way it leaned into the touch she should have rejected. Her lip quivered as another tear escaped, sliding down to where Yoona's hand rested against her skin.

"I wish I could," she admitted in a broken whisper. "God, I wish I could."

Yoona's own tears fell then, silent but endless. She swallowed hard, her forehead resting against Jinsol's. "Then don't."

Jinsol's breath caught in her throat. But she didn't move away. Not this time.

Jinsol's fingers trembled as they clung to Yoona's hands, as if letting go would send her spiraling into the abyss she had barely crawled out of. Her breath came out in shudders, her vision blurred by the flood of emotions threatening to drown her.

"I still love you too," she finally admitted, her voice raw, torn from a place she had long tried to lock away. "God, I hate that I do."

Yoona's breath caught, her grip on Jinsol tightening, as if she had been waiting-praying-for those words.
Jinsol let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling tightly around Yoona's. "But love isn't supposed to hurt like this, is it?" Her voice wavered, her eyes locking onto Yoona's, filled with an anguish that words couldn't fully capture.

"Because with you, it always does."

Yoona inhaled sharply, her expression breaking for a split second before she forced herself to hold Jinsol's gaze. The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, pressing against them like an invisible force that neither could push away.

Jinsol shook her head, blinking back the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes. "You're the love of my life," she whispered, voice trembling, "and you're the one who tore me apart. No one has ever made me feel the way you do, but no one has ever hurt me like you either." She let out a bitter laugh, one that held no amusement, only exhaustion.

"How am I supposed to live with that?"

Yoona swallowed hard, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something-anything-to make this easier. But there were no easy answers. No perfect words to erase the pain between them.

Jinsol exhaled, shaking her head again. "I keep telling myself that I should hate you, that I should move on and never look back. I tried so damn hard, Yoona." Her voice cracked as she continued, her grip on Yoona's hands tightening involuntarily. "I tried to forget. To push you away. But no matter what I did, I could never erase you."

Yoona's breath hitched, her fingers twitching beneath Jinsol's. "I never wanted to be erased," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of Jinsol's shaky breathing.

Jinsol closed her eyes, her body trembling as she fought against the weight of everything she had been holding inside. "Then why did you make it so easy to walk away?" Her voice was hoarse, filled with every ounce of pain she had buried for far too long. "Why did you let me go if you never wanted me to?”

Yoona's own tears spilled over now, trailing silently down her cheeks. She looked down, her hands tightening in Jinsol's grasp. "Because I was scared," she admitted. "Because I didn't know how to fix what was already breaking. Because every time I looked at you, I saw the life we lost, and I-" Her voice broke, and she sucked in a breath, shaking her head. "I thought you were better off without me."

Jinsol's eyes snapped open, filled with something raw and unfiltered. "Better off?" she echoed, disbelief cutting through her voice like a blade. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to lose you? Do you have any idea how much I needed you, even when everything was falling apart?"

Yoona let out a choked breath, guilt crashing over her like a tidal wave. "I know," she whispered. "I know, and I hate myself for it."

Jinsol exhaled harshly, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she struggled to contain the emotions unraveling inside her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to pull Yoona in and never let go.

Instead, she just laughed-a broken, tired sound that held no joy. "You ruined me, Yoona," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And the worst part? I'd still choose you. Again and again."

Yoona inhaled sharply, her entire body trembling. "Jinsol..."

Jinsol's throat tightened as she forced herself to look at her-to really look at her. The same woman she had loved so deeply. The same woman who had shattered her heart into pieces.

She hated how much she still needed her.

"I never stopped loving you," Yoona whispered, her voice breaking. "Not for a single second."

Jinsol clenched her jaw, her fingers instinctively tightening around Yoona's hands.

She wanted to believe her.

She wanted to let go of the pain.

But love was never that simple.

Jinsol exhaled shakily, her grip loosening around Yoona's hands before she finally let them go. She stepped back slightly, rubbing her face as if trying to gather the right words-words she knew would hurt, but words that had to be said.

"I tried," Jinsol finally admitted, her voice quieter now, more fragile than she wanted it to be. "I tried to get over it. To meet other women. To forget you."

Yoona's breath caught in her throat, her entire body stiffening as if the air had been knocked out of her.

Jinsol let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "I went on dates. I smiled when I was supposed to. I let them hold my hand, let them kiss me, let them think I could be theirs." She paused, her voice trembling. "But it never worked."

Yoona's fingers curled into fists at her sides, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Jinsol..."
Jinsol met her gaze, eyes red and exhausted. "Every single time, it was you," she continued, her voice breaking. "No matter who I was with, no matter how much I wanted to forget-you were always there, haunting me." She scoffed, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "I hated you for that. I hated you for never leaving me, even when you weren't there."

Yoona swallowed hard, the weight of Jinsol's words crushing down on her. A lump formed in her throat, guilt wrapping around her chest like a vice.

Jinsol let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. "So don't stand here and tell me you never stopped loving me," she whispered, voice raw with pain. "Because love isn't just about feeling something. It's about fighting for it. And you didn't fight for me, Yoona. You let me go."

Yoona's tears fell freely now, but she had no words-only the unbearable ache of knowing she had lost the one person who had always been hers.

---

Yoona had spent months after the divorce drowning in a darkness she couldn't escape. The moment Jinsol walked out of her life, everything crumbled around her. The apartment that once felt like home became suffocatingly empty, its walls too quiet, its air too still. Their laughter, their arguments, the warmth of shared mornings and late-night whispers-it had all vanished, leaving behind a silence that clawed at her sanity.

The bed they used to share felt too big, too cold. She tried sleeping on just one side, hoping it would make it hurt less, but the absence was unbearable. Some nights, she would wake up reaching for Jinsol instinctively, only to grasp at empty sheets, her fingers curling into nothing. She would lie there, staring at the ceiling, haunted by memories of a love she let slip through her fingers.
She stopped eating properly, barely slept, and avoided everyone who tried to reach out. Her phone was filled with unread messages from people asking if she was okay. She never answered. Some days, she couldn't even find the strength to get out of bed. The weight of guilt, regret, and loneliness pressed down on her like an unbearable force, leaving her motionless in the dark.

She tried drinking it away-countless nights spent with a bottle in her hand, hoping the burn of alcohol would erase the ache in her chest. But it never worked. It only made the emptiness worse. The more she tried to forget, the clearer Jinsol's face became in her mind-the way she used to smile, the warmth of her touch, the love in her eyes before everything fell apart.

Then there were the nights when the grief became unbearable, when she found herself reaching for her phone, fingers hovering over Jinsol's number, desperate to hear her voice just one more time. But she never called. She didn't have the right to.

She lost weight, her once lively eyes growing dull, her face pale and hollow. Even people around her noticed the change, whispering about how she looked like she was barely holding herself together. And they weren't wrong. She was a shell of the person she used to be, walking through life like a ghost, barely functioning. The world around her kept moving, but she was stuck in the past, trapped in a time where Jinsol still loved her.

At her lowest point, she found herself sitting on the floor of their old bedroom, clutching the small picture frame she had hidden in the drawer of her bedside table. It was the last piece of Jinsol she had left. A reminder of the love she lost. A love she destroyed.
Tears had blurred her vision as she traced Jinsol's face in the photograph, her fingers trembling. They looked so happy in it-so in love. A time before everything had crumbled. Before the pain, before the heartbreak. She pressed the frame against her chest, rocking herself as sobs wracked through her body, her silent apologies swallowed by the empty room.

---

And now, after all the pain, after all the suffering, Jinsol was standing in front of her again. But this time, she wasn't reaching for her. This time, Yoona was the one begging to stay.

Yoona's legs gave out beneath her. The weight of Jinsol's words, the sheer agony in her voice, crushed her more than she could bear. She stumbled back, her knees hitting the cold floor with a dull thud. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she clutched her chest, as if trying to hold herself together, as if trying to stop her heart from completely shattering.

Jinsol stood frozen, her breath uneven as she watched Yoona crumble. It was a sight she had never seen before-Yoona, the woman who always carried herself with such strength, now breaking apart right in front of her.

"I-" Yoona tried to speak, but the words refused to come out. Tears blurred her vision, hot and relentless, streaming down her face as sobs wracked through her body.

Jinsol's fists clenched at her sides, her own heart twisting at the sight. Every part of her screamed to walk away, to keep her walls up, to protect herself from the pain that Yoona had caused. But another part of her-the part that still ached for her, that still remembered every moment of love they had shared-hesitated.

"Yoona..." Jinsol whispered, barely audible.
Yoona lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with desperation, regret, and something far more fragile-hope. But Jinsol stayed where she was, torn between the love that still lingered and the scars that had yet to fade.

Yoona clutched onto Jinsol's leg with trembling hands, her nails digging into the fabric of her pants as if letting go would mean losing everything. "Please," she sobbed, her voice cracking under the weight of desperation.

"Please, Jinsol. Just one more chance."

Jinsol stood frozen, staring down at the woman who once had her whole heart, now kneeling before her, broken and pleading. The sight was unbearable. Yoona, who had always carried herself with pride, with unwavering confidence, was now clinging to her like she was the last thing keeping her from drowning.

"I'll do anything," Yoona choked out, her grip tightening. "I'll fix everything. Just don't walk away from me again."

Jinsol's breath hitched. Again. That word echoed in her mind, piercing through the walls she had so desperately built around herself. It was Yoona who had let her go. Yoona who had broken them beyond repair. And yet, here she was, begging Jinsol to stay.

Jinsol wanted to yank her leg away, to turn around and leave before she could fall into the same cycle of pain. But she couldn't move. Not when Yoona was looking at her like that-not when the sound of her cries tore through every ounce of resolve Jinsol had left.

"I can't," Jinsol whispered, her own voice betraying her with how much it trembled.

Yoona shook her head frantically, her tears soaking into Jinsol's pants as she pressed her forehead against her thigh. "You can," she pleaded. "You loved me once. I know you did."
Jinsol squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out the way her heart screamed at her to reach down, to hold Yoona, to comfort her like she used to. But love wasn't the only thing that brought them here. There was pain. There were scars that hadn't healed.

"I still love you," Yoona whispered brokenly. "I never stopped."

Jinsol sucked in a shaky breath, every word cutting into her like a blade. But love wasn't always enough. And she wasn't sure if it ever would be again.

Yoona felt her entire body trembling as she clung to Jinsol's leg, her sobs echoing through the room. She had no pride left, no dignity-just raw desperation pouring out of her. The woman she had spent years loving, the one she had lost, the one she had spent sleepless nights mourning -she was right here. So close, yet still so out of reach.

Jinsol sighed heavily, closing her eyes as if trying to steady herself. The sight of Yoona on the floor, broken and pleading, made something twist painfully in her chest. Despite everything-despite the hurt, the betrayal, the unbearable grief that lingered between them-she couldn't turn away.

With careful hands, she bent down and grasped Yoona's arms, gently pulling her up. Yoona let herself be lifted, her body weak from the weight of emotions crashing over her. Jinsol guided her to sit on the couch, her grip firm yet tender, as if she was afraid Yoona would shatter all over again.

Jinsol took a step back, exhaling deeply before speaking. "Yoona... I need time." Her voice was quiet but resolute. "I can't just... jump back into this. Not after everything."

Yoona's lips parted, her breath hitching. "I understand," she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Take all the time you need."
Jinsol ran a hand through her hair, looking away. "Right now, we need to focus on the trial. That's what's important. We can't afford to be distracted by-" She stopped herself, biting her lip.

"By us," Yoona finished for her, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jinsol nodded, hesitant. "Yeah."

A silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words, with wounds that were still too fresh.

Yoona lowered her gaze to her bandaged hand, the pain dull compared to the ache in her heart. "I'll wait," she said suddenly, her voice steadier this time.

Jinsol's head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yoona..."

"No, listen," Yoona interrupted gently, her lips forming a small, sad smile.

"I waited three years, Jinsol. Three years of wondering if I'd ever see you again, if you'd ever walk through that door, if I'd ever get the chance to fix what I broke." She exhaled shakily. "If I could wait that long without knowing if you'd ever come back... I can wait again. I'll wait as long as it takes."

Jinsol stared at her, her chest tightening at Yoona's sincerity. The conviction in her voice, the unwavering devotion-it made it so much harder to keep the walls she had built around herself intact.

After what felt like forever, Jinsol finally nodded, her voice softer this time. "Then wait."

Yoona gave her a look filled with quiet determination. "I will.”

---

A few days before the trial, Yoona and Jinsol found themselves walking side by side through the city streets. It wasn’t planned—not really. Yoona had simply suggested that they get some air, and Jinsol, to her own surprise, agreed.

The streets were lively but not overwhelming, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow over the city. A gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the faint notes of coffee brewing inside the small café they used to visit.

“You still take your coffee the same way?” Yoona suddenly asked, glancing at Jinsol as they passed by the café.

Jinsol blinked at her, caught off guard. “What?”

Yoona gestured toward the café window. “No sugar, just a little bit of milk. You used to scold me for drowning mine in syrup.”

Jinsol huffed, rolling her eyes. “Because you basically drank liquid candy, not coffee.”

Yoona laughed, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

They continued walking, Yoona leading them toward a familiar street vendor. Without hesitation, she ordered Jinsol’s favorite drink, handing it to her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jinsol hesitated before accepting it, her fingers brushing against Yoona’s for a split second. It was warm, grounding.

“You still remember,” Jinsol murmured, staring at the cup.

Yoona gave her a small smile. “Of course I do.”

They found a bench near the river and sat down, the city lights reflecting on the water as the sky darkened into hues of orange and purple. It felt peaceful, yet the silence between them carried the weight of everything left unsaid.

Jinsol sipped her drink, sighing. “This feels weird.”

Yoona tilted her head. “What does?”

“This.” Jinsol gestured vaguely between them. “Spending time together like this, like nothing ever happened.”

Yoona hummed, looking out at the water. “I know. But… I guess I don’t mind it.”

Jinsol stared at her. “You don’t?”

Yoona turned to face her, lips twitching into a smile. “No. It’s nice.”

Jinsol scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You used to find that charming,” Yoona teased.

Jinsol gave her a dry look.

“I used to find a lot of things charming about you.”

Yoona placed a dramatic hand over her chest.

“Ouch. That hurts.”

Jinsol rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. Yoona always had a way of making things feel lighter, even when the weight of the past sat heavy on their shoulders.

As they continued talking, the tension between them faded bit by bit. They reminisced about small things—the time Yoona had tried to cook and nearly set the kitchen on fire, the way Jinsol would always steal Yoona’s hoodies despite insisting she had enough sweaters of her own.

At one point, Yoona mimicked the way Jinsol used to nag her about putting dishes away, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and a poor imitation of her voice.

“I did not sound like that,” Jinsol said, her face twisting in disbelief.

Yoona grinned. “Oh, you definitely did.”

Jinsol groaned, nudging Yoona’s shoulder harder than necessary. “You’re unbearable.”

Yoona just laughed—and it was real, effortless. It was the kind of laughter they hadn’t shared in years, the kind that made them forget, if only for a second, what was waiting for them once the night ended.

For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

For a moment, they weren’t ex-wives dealing with a trial that would soon pull them back into reality.

They were just Jinsol and Yoona, two people who once belonged to each other, laughing without realizing that they were still standing on the edge of something neither of them was ready to name.

The night before the trial, Jinsol found herself standing in front of Yoona's bedroom door, hesitating.

She shouldn't be here. She should have insisted on staying in the guest room. But after everything-after all the moments they had unknowingly rebuilt-it felt inevitable.

Yoona stood beside her, watching cautiously, as if afraid that saying the wrong thing would make Jinsol change her mind. When Jinsol finally stepped inside, Yoona followed, quietly closing the door behind her.

The room was the same, yet different. The furniture was in the same places, the scent of lavender still lingered faintly in the air, but there were subtle changes-new sheets, different curtains, an emptiness where their framed photos used to be.

Jinsol didn't say anything as she sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers along the familiar fabric. It felt like touching a memory. Yoona, ever so careful, climbed in beside her, keeping her distance, not wanting to push.

The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It carried years of pain, regret, and something neither of them could name.

Jinsol lay down first, staring at the ceiling, feeling Yoona shift beside her. The space between them felt endless, yet charged with unspoken words.

Yoona turned to face her, voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for staying."

Jinsol didn't respond immediately. Her fingers curled against the sheets, gripping the past, gripping the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring.

..Don't overthink it," she finally murmured.

But they both knew-it wasn't that simple.
The room was silent except for the soft hum of the city outside. Their backs were facing each other, neither daring to move, neither speaking a word. The space between them felt like a thin thread-fragile, yet unbroken.

Jinsol let out a slow breath, convinced that Yoona had already fallen asleep. Carefully, she shifted her position, turning over to face the other side, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

At that exact moment, Yoona moved too.

Their eyes met in the quiet, both of them freezing in place.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Neither of them even breathed.

The world outside seemed to blur into nothing, leaving only the two of them in this moment-so close yet still miles apart.

Yoona's lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came out. Jinsol could see it, the flicker of hesitation in her gaze, the emotions she had been holding back threatening to spill over.

Jinsol clenched the sheets beneath her fingers, unsure if she should look away or if she even wanted to. The warmth between them, the familiarity of being in the same bed again after three years-it was overwhelming.

Yoona swallowed hard, barely above a whisper. "You're still awake?"

Jinsol exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to.

And yet, for the first time in a long time, they weren't running away.

Jinsol hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice soft in the stillness of the room.

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Yoona blinked, startled by the question. She had been trying not to think about the trial, trying to ignore the weight pressing down on her chest. But now, lying here with Jinsol, the anxiety crept in.

"...A little," Yoona admitted. "I just want it to be over."

Jinsol nodded, her eyes never leaving Yoona's. "It will be. And you won't have to face it alone."

There was something in the way Jinsol said it-steady, certain-that made Yoona's breath hitch. She swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to spill over again. Without thinking, without second-guessing, she moved closer.

Jinsol didn't pull away.

Their bodies fit together naturally, as if time had never separated them. Their arms wrapped around each other in an unspoken understanding, a silent promise.

Jinsol let out a quiet sigh, her hand instinctively finding its way to Yoona's hair, her fingers threading through the strands in slow, gentle motions. Yoona relaxed into her touch, her breathing becoming softer, steadier.

Neither of them spoke after that. There was nothing left to say-only the warmth of each other's presence, the rise and fall of their chests moving in sync.

And just like that, in each other's arms, they drifted off into the first peaceful sleep they'd had in years.

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Yoona's eyes fluttered open, her breathing slow and steady as she adjusted to the morning haze.
The first thing she noticed was warmth. The kind she had long forgotten, the kind she had convinced herself she no longer needed.

Jinsol's arms were still around her, holding her close. Her steady breaths fanned against Yoona's temple, her body relaxed in the embrace they had fallen asleep in.

Yoona didn't move. She didn't want to.

Instead, she let herself indulge in this fleeting moment, closing her eyes again as she breathed in the scent of Jinsol-familiar, comforting, heartbreaking.

She had missed this. She had missed her.

But it couldn't last.

Because once this trial was over, there would be no reason for them to see each other again.

The thought sent a dull ache through her chest, a cruel reminder that no matter how much she wanted to stay in this moment forever, reality would always pull them apart.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of Jinsol's shirt, the smallest part of her wanting to hold on, to keep her here just a little longer.

But she had already lost Jinsol once.

And after today, she might lose her all over again.

The drive to the courthouse was tense, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and nerves neither of them wanted to admit. The city passed by in a blur, but neither Yoona nor Jinsol paid attention to the scenery.

Jinsol's grip on the steering wheel was tight, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Yoona, sitting in the passenger seat, stole a glance at her-at the sharp focus in her gaze, the way her lips were pressed together in quiet determination.

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't the same kind of silence they had suffered through before. This time, it was loaded with anticipation, with the weight of everything they had gone through to get here.

Finally, Yoona broke it.

"...Thank you."

Jinsol's brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't take her eyes off the road. "For what?"

"For helping me. Even when you didn't have to," Yoona said, her voice softer now. "No matter what happened between us, you still-"

"Don't," Jinsol cut in, shaking her head. "Don't thank me yet. Do it when we win this case."

Yoona exhaled a small, breathy chuckle, but there was sadness laced in it. Jinsol always did that-always brushed things off, always focused on the next step instead of what was right in front of her.

Before she could stop herself, Yoona reached over, her fingers brushing against Jinsol's hand resting on the gear shift. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around it, holding onto her gently, carefully.

Jinsol stiffened slightly at the touch but didn't pull away.

Yoona held onto her hand a little tighter, her thumb brushing lightly against Jinsol's skin. She wished the ride would slow down, that the streets would stretch longer, that the day wouldn't end so soon.

Because after this-after the trial-there would be no excuse to stay by Jinsol's side.

And she wasn't ready to let go.

The atmosphere in the courtroom was suffocating, thick with tension and anticipation. Every seat in the gallery was occupied-Yoona's close friends, her family, and those who believed in her innocence sat with anxious expressions, some clutching their hands together in silent prayer.

At the defendant's table, Yoona sat rigidly, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. This was it. The day that would decide the course of her life.

Jinsol, standing tall beside her, exuded the same cold confidence she always had in court, but Yoona knew her too well. She saw the way Jinsol's fingers curled slightly over the desk, the way her jaw tightened. She was nervous, too, though she'd never admit it.

The opposing counsel wasted no time, painting Yoona as guilty, twisting the evidence, turning every detail into a reason for suspicion. Each word felt like a dagger, and Yoona forced herself to keep her head high despite the sinking feeling in her chest.

But then, it was Jinsol's turn.

She stepped forward, her voice strong, unwavering. "The prosecution has built its case on assumptions and circumstantial evidence. But let's talk about the facts."

Jinsol went through every detail with precision, tearing apart every weak argument the prosecution had. She called in key witnesses, brought forth new evidence, and with each word, each counterargument, Yoona felt a flicker of hope reignite in her chest.

There were moments of doubt-moments when the prosecution tried to regain control, moments when Yoona felt her heart drop. But every time, Jinsol was there, standing between her and the verdict that could ruin her life.

Yoona's friends and family watched in breathless anticipation, some on the edge of their seats, whispering prayers under their breath.

As the trial neared its conclusion, Jinsol turned to the jury, her final words echoing through the silent courtroom.

"My client is not a murderer. The evidence proves that. And I ask you-do not let false accusations destroy an innocent life."

The judge called for a recess before the verdict, and as everyone stood to stretch, Yoona finally turned to Jinsol, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No matter what happens, thank you."

Jinsol didn't look at her right away. Instead, she exhaled slowly before finally meeting Yoona's gaze.

"We're not done yet."

The courtroom fell into a suffocating silence as the jury foreman stood, holding the verdict slip in his trembling hands. Yoona's heart pounded so hard she swore it would break through her chest. Jinsol stood beside her, still as stone, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.

The judge cleared his throat. "In the case of Seol Yoona, we, the jury, find the defendant..."

Yoona shut her eyes, bracing herself for the worst.

"...Not guilty."
The words echoed in her head before she fully processed them. Then, like a dam breaking, a wave of relief crashed over her. Gasps filled the room, followed by cries of joy from Yoona's family and friends.

She turned to Jinsol, her breath hitching. "Jinsol, we-"

But before she could finish, the emotions overwhelmed her, and she threw her arms around Jinsol, holding on as if she would collapse otherwise.

Jinsol stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then she felt Yoona trembling against her, the wetness of her tears soaking into her shoulder. Slowly, hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around Yoona, pulling her close.

Yoona sobbed into Jinsol's neck, her fingers gripping the back of her coat. "Thank you. Thank you. I don't- I don't know what I would've done without you."

Jinsol swallowed the lump in her throat, closing her eyes. "It's over now," she murmured. "You're free."

Yoona tightened her hold, afraid to let go. For the first time in what felt like forever, she could finally breathe.

Yoona sobbed into her mother's arms, clutching onto her as if she was afraid this was all just a dream. Her father stood beside them, gently rubbing her back, his expression filled with nothing but love and relief. Her close friends joined in, surrounding her with warm embraces, words of comfort, and reassurances that everything was finally okay.

Jinsol watched from a distance, hands tucked into her coat pockets, an unfamiliar warmth blooming in her chest. Seeing Yoona like this-smiling through her tears, finally free from the weight of accusations and fear-it was worth everything. She had done what she came here to do.

But then her gaze shifted, landing on two familiar figures standing at the edge of the crowd. Yoona's parents.
Her throat tightened. It had been years since she last saw them. The last time had been during the divorce, when the house had been filled with silence and cold stares. She wondered what they thought of her now. Did they still resent her for walking away from their daughter when she needed her most? Did they see her as a coward? Or had time softened the edges of their disappointment?

She didn't expect an answer. She didn't even expect them to acknowledge her. But just as she turned to leave, Yoona's mother's eyes met hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, to Jinsol's surprise, the older woman gave her a small, knowing nod.

Not quite forgiveness, not quite an invitation-but something in between.

Jinsol swallowed hard, returning the nod before looking away. She told herself it didn't matter. That this was Yoona's moment, and she had no place in it.

And yet, as she stood there watching the woman she once called her wife surrounded by love, a quiet ache settled in her chest.

Haewon had always been there-from the very beginning. She was there when Jinsol and Yoona first met, when they fell in love, when they built their life together. And she was there when it all fell apart.

She had watched them go from inseparable to strangers, from soulmates to ex-wives. And now, after everything, she saw something painfully familiar in the way Jinsol walked out of the courthouse.

Her steps were heavy, as if she carried the weight of something no one else could see. Her shoulders were stiff, her hands clenched at her sides. Haewon didn't even have to call out to her-she already knew where Jinsol was going.

So after speaking briefly to Yoona, assuring her that she'd be right back, Haewon followed.

She found Jinsol exactly as she expected-sitting alone on a worn-out bench behind the courthouse, nursing a cold coffee, staring up at the darkening sky.

"You always did like running away when things got too much," Haewon said as she approached.

Jinsol didn't even flinch, just took another sip of her drink. "Not in the mood, Haewon."

"Yeah? Well, tough." Haewon sat beside her with a sigh, watching her closely. "Yoona's looking for you, you know."

Jinsol's grip on her cup tightened.

"She's with her family," she muttered. "Where she should be."

Haewon scoffed. "And you? Where should you be?"

Jinsol didn't answer, and Haewon exhaled slowly.

"You did a good thing today," she said. "You fought for her. You got her justice."

Jinsol let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah. And now it's over."

Haewon shook her head. "You're an idiot."

Jinsol finally turned to glare at her, but Haewon wasn't done.

"You tell yourself this was just a case, that after today, it all ends. But we both know that's bullshit. You still love her, Jinsol."

Jinsol's jaw clenched. "That doesn't change anything."

Haewon sighed, leaning back. "You think you're doing her a favor by walking away, don't you?"

Silence.

"Maybe you should stop deciding what's best for her and actually listen to what she wants," Haewon continued. "Because from what I saw today, Yoona isn't ready to let you go. And if you're being honest with yourself, neither are you."

Jinsol swallowed hard, staring at the sky.

And then, as if the universe itself was answering her turmoil, the first drops of rain began to fall.

Jinsol exhaled sharply, tilting her head back as the first drops of rain landed on her skin. She didn't even flinch.

"Go back inside, Haewon," she muttered, voice tired. "I just... I need a moment."

Haewon stayed silent for a beat, watching her closely. The way Jinsol's fingers tightened around the coffee cup, the way her chest rose and fell as if she were holding something in-it was all too familiar.

"You sure that's what you need?" Haewon asked, softer this time.

Jinsol let out a breathy chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "I don't know what I need." She turned to Haewon, eyes exhausted. "But right now, I just want to be alone."

Haewon studied her for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright." She stood up, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "But don't sit here too long, okay? It's about to pour."

Jinsol didn't respond, just stared ahead at the empty parking lot.

With a final glance, Haewon turned and walked away, back into the courthouse where warmth and familiarity waited.
Jinsol, however, remained on that bench, letting the rain fall heavier around her.

As Yoona hugged her mother tightly, she felt the gentle but firm squeeze of reassurance. "You did well, my daughter," her mother murmured.

Yoona sniffled, pulling back to look at her. "I couldn't have done it without everyone..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze flickered around, suddenly realizing someone was missing.

Her mother followed her gaze, understanding instantly. "Jinsol left," she said simply.

Yoona's heart dropped. "She-she did?"

Her mother hummed, brushing a strand of hair from Yoona's face. "She's always been like that, hasn't she? Taking on burdens alone, leaving before anyone can stop her." She sighed, giving Yoona's shoulder a squeeze. "You should invite her over for dinner."

Yoona blinked. "Dinner?"

"Yes. We need to celebrate properly," her mother said firmly. "And more than that... I think it's time we finally talk, all of us."

Yoona swallowed, her fingers tightening into fists.

"I don't know if she'll agree."

Her mother gave her a knowing look. "Then make her."
The courthouse was nearly empty now. Everyone had already gone home-Yoona's family, her friends, the people who had stood by her side throughout the trial. They had all left with relieved smiles, ready to celebrate after the long, exhausting battle.

Even Haewon had gone after making sure Jinsol was okay, respecting her need for space.

But Yoona stayed.

She could've gone home with her friends, could've taken a ride with her family, but something kept her rooted to the courthouse. Something told her she couldn't leave-not yet.

That's when she decided to go looking.

The rain had gotten heavier by the time she stepped outside, the cold seeping through her skin, but she didn't stop. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she rounded the building, scanning the dimly lit area.

And then she saw her.

Jinsol sat alone on a bench, drenched, her head tilted back as she let the rain soak her through. Her suit clung to her frame, her hands limp at her sides. The coffee can beside her was still there, untouched. She didn't move, didn't react, as if she were lost in another world entirely.

Yoona's stomach twisted.

Everyone had left, but Jinsol remained. Alone.

Without thinking, she rushed toward her, grabbing Jinsol's wrist with urgency.

"Are you crazy?!" Yoona's voice was sharp, but underneath it was pure concern.

Jinsol's eyes fluttered open, slow and unfocused.

"Yoona...?”

"Get up," Yoona demanded, her voice almost desperate. "You're soaking wet. Do you want to get sick?"

Jinsol exhaled a weak chuckle. "So?"

Yoona clenched her jaw.

And then, without another word, she yanked Jinsol up, pulling her under the shelter of the courthouse. Jinsol stumbled slightly, caught off guard, but Yoona didn't let go. Her grip tightened around Jinsol's wrist, her own hands trembling with frustration.

"What the hell are you doing?" Yoona's voice wavered, chest rising and falling unsteadily. "Sitting in the rain like that-do you even care about yourself? Do you-" She sucked in a breath, trying to hold herself together.

Jinsol didn't answer. She only stared at her, something unreadable in her eyes.

Yoona swallowed hard, and before she could stop herself, it slipped out.

"Baby, you can't keep doing this to yourself."

Silence.

Jinsol's breath caught.

Yoona froze, realizing too late what she had just said. Her gaze darted away, jaw tightening as she tried to backtrack.

But it was too late.

Jinsol was staring at her, those words echoing between them, stirring something deep and painful in the space they had spent so long trying to navigate.

Neither of them spoke. The rain kept falling, drumming against the pavement, as if mirroring the chaos in their hearts.

Yoona let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm down. Without another word, she reached into her handbag, fingers trembling slightly as she pulled out a small towel.

She stepped closer, hesitating only for a second before gently pressing the soft fabric against Jinsol's face.

Jinsol didn't move.

She didn't flinch, didn't lean into the touch-just stood there, staring blankly at Yoona as if she weren't really there. As if she were somewhere far away, drowning in thoughts Yoona couldn't reach.

Yoona's heart ached at the sight.

She carefully dabbed away the rain dripping down Jinsol's cheeks, her movements slow, tender, almost afraid that if she pushed too much, Jinsol would pull away.

But Jinsol didn't.

She only stared, eyes unreadable, lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

The silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating.

And still, Yoona wiped her face, as if trying to erase more than just the rain.

Yoona's hand lingered after wiping away the rain. Her gaze softened as she noticed how Jinsol's hair clung to her damp skin, strands sticking messily across her forehead and cheeks.

With a quiet sigh, Yoona reached out again, fingers threading gently through Jinsol's soaked hair. She pushed the strands back, tucking them neatly behind Jinsol's ear, her fingertips barely grazing the cold skin.

Jinsol still didn't react.
She only blinked, staring at Yoona with an emptiness that made Yoona's chest tighten.

Yoona swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, smoothing down the damp locks with delicate care, as if fixing them could somehow fix everything between them.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

Not because of the cold, not because of the rain-but because of the fear that maybe, just maybe, she was too late.

The car rolled to a stop in front of Yoona's apartment building, the dim glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. Neither of them moved at first. The rain had stopped entirely, leaving behind the scent of damp earth and asphalt.

Yoona turned slightly in her seat, taking in the woman beside her-the woman she had loved, still loved, but could no longer hold onto. Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, fighting the urge to reach out.

"Thank you," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm. "For everything, Jinsol."

Jinsol's hands remained on the steering wheel, knuckles faintly tense. She didn't turn to face Yoona, only nodded once, her expression unreadable.

Yoona swallowed the lump in her throat. "Even if it was just for a short time, I'm... I'm grateful. That I got to be with you again."

The weight in her chest grew heavier as silence stretched between them. She wanted to stay, to say more, to reach for Jinsol the way she used to. But she knew better. She had already pushed too much before.

So she forced herself to move.

Her hand lingered on the door handle for a second longer than necessary before she finally stepped out. The cold air nipped at her skin, but it wasn't nearly as harsh as the emptiness settling in her heart.

She shut the door gently behind her, but even as she walked toward the building, she could feel Jinsol's presence-still there, still so close, yet unbearably far away.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

As soon as Yoona disappeared into the building, her vision blurred with unshed tears. She bit her lip, willing herself to keep walking, to not look back. But with every step she took, the ache inside her grew heavier, like something inside her was collapsing all over again.

By the time she reached her apartment, the dam broke.

Silent tears streamed down her face, dripping onto the floor as she stood in the empty hallway. Disappointment crushed her chest-disappointment in herself, in how things turned out, in how no matter what she did, she could never seem to reach Jinsol the way she wanted to.

Meanwhile, Jinsol drove aimlessly through the city, her grip on the wheel tightening until her knuckles turned white. The road ahead was nothing but blurred lights and endless turns, none of which led her to an answer.

Eventually, she pulled over in a deserted parking lot, her breathing ragged. The moment she turned off the engine, the silence hit her like a tidal wave.

And then, she broke.

Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body, raw and unfiltered. She clutched at her chest, gasping through the ache, but it only deepened.

"What's wrong with me?" she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't know why she was so afraid. Why, after everything, she couldn't just let herself go back to Yoona.

She knew she still loved her-God, she never stopped-but something inside her kept screaming for her to run, to keep the distance, as if being with Yoona again meant inviting back all the pain too.

Her head fell against the steering wheel, her breath shuddering.

"Yoona..." she mumbled, her name falling from her lips like a prayer, like a plea.

She wanted her. She missed her. But a part of her still held back, still warned her not to reach out.

And she didn't know why.

Yoona curled up on the couch, her body trembling with every sob. Her hands clutched at the fabric of her shirt over her heart, as if trying to hold herself together. But it was useless. The pain was unbearable. She was gasping between cries, her chest heaving, her vision blurred with endless tears.

She longed for Jinsol. Desperately. Painfully.

But fate had always been cruel to them.

Her fingers dug into the couch cushions as another sob broke through her lips. It wasn't fair. They had fought so hard, endured so much-so why did it still feel like the universe was pulling them apart?

Her mind drifted, as if trying to escape the present. And suddenly, she was back there-on the happiest day of her life.

Their wedding.
She could still hear the soft music playing in the background, the way Jinsol laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners as she danced under the golden lights. Yoona had never seen anyone more beautiful. She remembered the warmth of Jinsol's hands in hers, the way they fit so perfectly together as they swayed, lost in each other's presence.

"You're my forever," Jinsol had whispered that night, her voice full of love, full of promise.

Yoona had believed it. Had held onto those words like they were the only truth that mattered.

But now, that forever felt so far away.

Her throat tightened, a fresh wave of grief crashing over her.

She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking.

She wanted to go back. To that night. To that moment.

To Jinsol.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of their unresolved feelings only grew heavier.

Yoona went through her days like a ghost, moving through work and social gatherings with a hollow smile. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, her thoughts always led back to Jinsol. The way she looked at her in the courtroom. The way her lips parted as if she had something to say but never did. The way she left without looking back.

Every night, Yoona found herself staring at the empty side of her bed, where Jinsol used to sleep. The scent of her had long faded, but the memories still clung to the sheets. It was torture. She had spent years learning to live without Jinsol, but now, after having her close again-after feeling her warmth, hearing her voice, touching her hands-it was unbearable.

Every night, Yoona found herself staring at the empty side of her bed, where Jinsol used to sleep. The scent of her had long faded, but the memories still clung to the sheets.

It was torture. She had spent years learning to live without Jinsol, but now, after having her close again-after feeling her warmth, hearing her voice, touching her hands-it was unbearable.

She still wanted her. Needed her.

But Jinsol... Jinsol didn't know what she wanted.

She told herself she was moving forward, but why did it feel like she was standing in place?

Jinsol would go on dates, meet new people, try to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by letting Yoona go. But no matter who she sat across from, no matter how charming or kind they were, no one ever made her feel like Yoona did.

Still, she didn't go back.

She couldn't.

Because if she did, if she let herself love Yoona again, she feared she would break all over again.

But wasn't she already broken?

Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, Jinsol kept asking herself the same question:

Why is it so hard to decide?

Jinsol needed to let go.

She told herself that over and over as she walked through the quiet park by the river, the place where she and Yoona used to go all the time. The place where they once dreamed of forever.

It was 1 a.m., the air crisp, the city lights reflecting off the slow-moving water. The world felt empty, and maybe that was why she came here—because she wanted to be alone.

One last time.

She walked the familiar path, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, her breath coming out in soft, uneven exhales. Every step felt heavier than the last.

This was supposed to be the night she finally let go.

She paused at their usual bench, the one under the old streetlamp that flickered at random. She traced a hand over the worn wooden surface, her fingers remembering the way Yoona used to lean against her here, her warmth seeping through their jackets as they talked for hours.

Jinsol let out a shaky laugh, bitter and quiet. “I should’ve never come here.”

She turned away, ready to leave, to walk out of this place for good—

And then she saw her.

Yoona.

Walking toward her.

Jinsol froze. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming against her ribs.

It was like the universe had other plans.

Yoona hadn’t seen her yet. She was looking down, her hands in the pockets of that same old leather jacket—the one Jinsol had given her years ago. Her hair was slightly messy, like she had been lying awake for hours before deciding to come here.

Just like Jinsol had.

Jinsol swallowed hard, her mind racing.

What were the chances? Out of all the places in the city, why here? Why now?

And then, as if feeling her stare, Yoona looked up.

Their eyes met.

Jinsol felt the air shift, like the world had stopped just for them.

Yoona’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something. But she didn’t. She just stood there, frozen in place, the same way Jinsol was.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them ran.

And for the first time in years, Jinsol didn’t know if she wanted to.

Jinsol barely had time to react before Yoona ran to her.

She collided into her arms with so much force that Jinsol had to take a step back to steady herself. But Yoona didn’t let go—not even for a second. Her arms wrapped tightly around Jinsol’s shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of her jacket like she was terrified she’d disappear if she loosened her grip.

And then—soft, muffled sobs.

Jinsol felt her chest tighten.

“I miss you,” Yoona choked out, her voice breaking. “I miss you so much.”

Jinsol shut her eyes, a shaky breath slipping from her lips.

She had spent so long telling herself she didn’t know what she wanted. That maybe walking away had been the right decision. That maybe, after everything, they were better apart.

But standing here, feeling Yoona’s warmth, hearing the way her voice trembled, she realized—

She had been wrong.

Her arms, once hesitant, now wrapped fully around Yoona, pulling her in as close as possible. And when she felt Yoona shake harder against her, she rubbed slow circles on her back, the way she used to when things got too heavy, when words weren’t enough.

Yoona let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” she whispered, her voice raw, thick with emotion.

Jinsol froze, her heart clenching at the sheer pain in Yoona’s voice.

“I thought you were done with me,” Yoona continued, her voice breaking. “That you were never going to come back. That you—” She shut her eyes, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “That you didn’t love me anymore.”

Jinsol let out a breathless laugh, though it sounded more like a broken sigh. She pulled Yoona even closer, as if trying to make up for all the time they had spent apart. “I never stopped loving you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Not for a second.”

Yoona pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, searching her face as if she was scared she was imagining all of this. “Then why—”

Jinsol reached up, her fingertips ghosting over Yoona’s cheek, wiping away the tears that kept falling. “Because I was scared,” she whispered. “Scared we’d break each other all over again.”

Yoona let out a shaky breath, her grip on Jinsol tightening. “You don’t get it, Jinsol,” she said, desperate. “I can’t live without you.”

Jinsol’s throat tightened.

“I tried,” Yoona continued, her breath hitching. “I tried to be okay, to move on, to tell myself I could live without you. But I was lying. Every single day, I woke up feeling like something was missing. And every night, I fell asleep wishing you were still beside me.” Her voice cracked. “You are the love of my life, Jinsol. How am I supposed to live without you?”

Jinsol swallowed hard, guilt clawing at her chest. She reached up, cupping Yoona’s face between her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry, Yoona.”

Yoona’s brows furrowed, her lips trembling. “Jinsol…”

Jinsol shook her head, feeling her own tears spill down her cheeks. “I made you wait too long,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “I made you wonder if I was ever going to come back. I made you doubt what we had, made you question if I ever loved you at all. And I—I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that.”

Yoona let out a shaky breath, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Jinsol continued. “I should’ve told you that I was just scared. That I never stopped loving you. That I was a coward for thinking distance would fix things when all it did was make us suffer.” She swallowed hard. “I hated knowing you were hurting because of me. I hated knowing you spent nights crying, wondering if we were over for good.” She exhaled shakily, her forehead pressing against Yoona’s. “I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t the most important person in my life.”

Yoona whimpered, fresh tears spilling. And then—

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I should’ve fought harder for us. I should’ve told you that I’d never give up on you. That no matter how much time passed, no matter how broken we thought we were, my heart was always going to be yours.”

Jinsol let out a shaky breath, her forehead still resting against Yoona’s.

“I was scared too,” Yoona admitted. “Scared that maybe you were right, that maybe we weren’t meant to last. But the truth is—I don’t care if it’s hard, Jinsol. I don’t care if we mess up again or if we have to figure everything out from the beginning. I just want to be with you.” Her voice cracked. “I just want us.”

Jinsol’s heart ached, overwhelmed with emotion. She cupped Yoona’s face, her thumbs brushing against tear-streaked skin. “Then let’s try again,” she whispered, her breath warm against Yoona’s lips. “No more running. No more doubts. Just us.”

Yoona let out a soft, broken laugh, nodding through her tears. “Just us.”

And Jinsol didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

She kissed her.

The moment their lips met, it was like something inside her snapped.

The desperation, the longing, the years of suppressed love all came rushing out at once.

Yoona gasped against her, her hands flying up to cup Jinsol’s face, pulling her in deeper. The kiss was messy, rushed, overwhelmed by emotion. Tears mixed between them, the salt lingering on their tongues, but neither of them cared.

Jinsol’s fingers tangled in Yoona’s hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. She could feel the way Yoona trembled against her, could hear the tiny, breathless noises she made between kisses, the way her body pressed against her like she never wanted to let go.

And Jinsol—

She wasn’t going to let go.

Not this time.

Yoona whimpered softly against her lips, breaking away just enough to rest their foreheads together, their breaths heavy, uneven.

Jinsol’s hands cupped Yoona’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away her tears. She stared at her, taking in every inch of the woman she had loved for what felt like lifetimes.

“I love you,” Jinsol murmured, the words spilling from her lips so naturally, so right. “I never stopped.”

Yoona let out a soft, breathless laugh, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I love you too,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’ve always loved you.”

Jinsol smiled—a real, genuine smile that she hadn’t felt in years.

Yoona reached up, touching Jinsol’s face gently, as if making sure this was real.

Jinsol turned her head, pressing a lingering kiss against Yoona’s palm before pulling her back into another kiss—slower this time, softer, but just as deep, just as full of love.

They were against the odds.

But love had never been easy for them.

And yet, here they were.

Together again.

And this time, they weren’t letting go.