The End of His Guilt

The letter was gone.

Swept away by the wind, lost in the empty streets.

Jiho stood frozen on the sidewalk, his breath shallow, his mind blank.

He had let it go.

He had let her win.

Nari's arms were still wrapped around him, her warmth pressing against his back. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

She knew.

Jiho had chosen her.

His fingers twitched, a ghost of hesitation flickering through him.

But it was too late to turn back now.

Slowly, he reached up, covering her hands with his own.

Her breath hitched—just barely.

Jiho closed his eyes.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted, his voice hoarse, raw.

Nari held him tighter.

"You don't have to do anything," she whispered.

Jiho's chest ached.

She made it sound so simple.

Like he could just stay like this forever.

Like this was enough.

His breathing was uneven, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wanted to ask—why? Why was she doing this?

But he already knew the answer.

She didn't want him to leave.

Because she loved him.

Or maybe—maybe she just wanted him to suffer.

Maybe she wanted him to need her the way she had always needed him.

Jiho's grip on her hands tightened.

For the first time since she came back, he turned in her embrace.

And when he looked at her—**really looked at her—**his chest twisted painfully.

She was beautiful.

Just as she had always been.

But now—there was something else in her eyes.

Something darker.

Something he had never seen before.

Jiho swallowed, his throat dry.

"Nari," he murmured.

She tilted her head, smiling softly.

"Hmm?"

Jiho hesitated.

Because he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

He didn't know if he wanted to beg her to stay.

Or beg her to finally let him go.

Instead, he reached for her.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

Her skin was warm.

It shouldn't have been.

But it was.

Nari's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, leaning into his touch.

Jiho's stomach twisted.

This was wrong.

But it felt so right.

"I miss you," he whispered.

Nari's lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

"I know," she murmured.

Her fingers curled around the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.

For a moment, Jiho forgot everything.

Forgot the mountain.

Forgot the fall.

Forgot the guilt gnawing at his soul.

Because when she pressed her forehead against his, it felt like she had never left.

Jiho closed his eyes.

And for the first time, he let himself love her again.

Not out of guilt.

Not out of regret.

But because he truly did.

And that was the most terrifying part of all.

----

Jiho sat on the rooftop of his apartment building, legs dangling over the edge.

The city stretched below him—bright, loud, alive.

But none of it felt real.

Not anymore.

The wind was cold against his skin, but Nari was warm beside him.

She sat close, closer than ever, her shoulder pressed against his, her fingers barely brushing against his hand.

Jiho didn't move.

He didn't pull away.

Because he didn't want to.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was final.

Nari turned to him, her soft dark eyes , unreadable.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

Jiho exhaled slowly.

Happy?

He didn't know what that meant anymore.

He used to think happiness was freedom.

A life without her.

But now—now she was the only thing that made sense.

His fingers curled slightly, brushing against hers.

Nari smiled.

"You know what comes next, don't you?" she murmured.

Jiho's throat tightened.

He did.

He had known since the moment he let go of the letter.

There was only one way this could end.

Jiho swallowed hard.

His body was too tired.

His mind too numb.

And he didn't want to run anymore.

His lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Nari."

She hummed, leaning in. "Hmm?"

Jiho turned to her fully, studying her face.

She looked so real.

So alive.

His chest ached.

"I love you," he said.

And for the first time since she returned—he meant it.

Nari's eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Then, she smiled.

"I know."

Jiho let out a shaky breath, his heart too heavy, too light all at once.

This was right.

This was how it was supposed to end.

His hand found hers, his fingers locking around her own.

She squeezed back.

Jiho closed his eyes.

And he let go.

Jiho's body swayed slightly, his feet resting on the edge of the rooftop.

The wind tugged at his clothes, cold against his skin. But he didn't shiver.

He wasn't afraid.

Nari stood beside him, her fingers entwined with his.

Her grip was gentle, steady.

Jiho exhaled slowly, letting the city lights blur below him.

This was the end.

He had spent so long fighting, resisting, denying.

But now—

Now, he was tired.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of running.

Tired of carrying the weight of what he had done.

Jiho turned to Nari, taking in every detail of her face.

She was beautiful.

Even now. Even like this.

His lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Nari…"

She smiled.

The rooftop was quiet.

The city stretched below, alive with lights, cars, people—but none of it mattered.

Jiho had already made his choice.

Reality wasn't worth it.

Not without her.

He felt Nari's warmth beside him, her fingers entwined with his. She had always been there, always waiting, always patient.

And now, he was finally ready.

Jiho took a slow breath, his chest tightening.

There was no point in staying here.

No point in living in a world without her.

He turned to Nari, his lips parting, his voice steady for the first time in weeks.

"If I go now," he murmured, "will I be with you?"

Nari's smile was soft. Almost loving.

"Of course."

Jiho's grip on her hand tightened.

That was all he needed to hear.

His heart was calm.

His mind was clear.

He didn't belong in this world anymore.

He belonged with her.

Jiho stepped forward.

And let go.

The wind rushed past him, cold and sharp, but he didn't feel afraid.

Because the moment he left the ground, Nari was with him.

Her arms wrapped around him, her voice soft against his ear.

"You finally understand," she whispered.

Jiho closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his life, he felt free.

The air rushed past Jiho's skin, sharp and unforgiving.

He was falling.

But he wasn't afraid.

Because Nari was with him.

Her arms wrapped around his body, her warmth pressing against him like a second skin. She was holding him, whispering to him, guiding him into the next world.

"You did well," she murmured, her voice like a lullaby.

Jiho's eyes fluttered shut.

This was right.

This was peace.

No more guilt.

No more regret.

No more pretending to live in a world that meant nothing without her.

Now, he could be with her forever.

A small, tired smile curled at the edges of his lips.

He was finally free.

---

Then, something shifted.

The warmth around him began to fade.

Nari's fingers, once firm and steady, began to slip.

Jiho's stomach twisted.

His heart pounded violently in his chest.

Wait.

Something was wrong.

He tried to grip onto her, but his hands touched nothing.

His body kept falling—alone.

The wind roared in his ears, louder than her voice.

And suddenly—for the first time—he felt fear.

His breath caught, his chest tightening.

"Nari?"

He tried to reach for her, but she was gone.

The warmth that had comforted him, the arms that had held him, the voice that had whispered sweet reassurances—

They were all gone.

Jiho's eyes snapped open.

Darkness stretched around him, vast and endless.

And in the distance—just barely visible—Nari stood above him, watching.

Her feet never left the rooftop.

She hadn't jumped.

She had never intended to.

Jiho's breath hitched.

His mind screamed, trying to make sense of it.

No.

No, no, no—

"You said—" His voice broke, wind ripping the words from his mouth.

Nari only smiled.

Soft. Pleased.

"You really thought I'd follow?"

Jiho's entire world shattered.

His stomach dropped, his limbs thrashing uselessly against the empty air.

This wasn't freedom.

This wasn't peace.

He had been tricked.

Jiho's mouth parted, but no sound came out.

He didn't have time to scream.

The ground was already waiting for him.

And the last thing he saw—

Was Nari's smile.

Nari watched.

Her dark eyes followed Jiho's body as it plummeted, cutting through the air like a stone, swallowed by the night.

The wind howled. The city buzzed below.

And she smiled.

For weeks, she had been waiting for this moment.

For him to break.

For him to beg for her love.

For him to choose her over life itself.

And now, he had.

Her lips curled, satisfaction humming in her chest.

Then—

The impact.

A sickening thud echoed through the street below.

A few distant gasps. A scream. The city kept moving, oblivious.

Nari didn't flinch.

She simply stood there, peering over the edge.

Watching.

Her smile didn't fade.

Not yet.

She had loved Jiho.

Loved him so much it hurt.

Loved him so much she would have given him everything.

He was supposed to be her world.

But he had betrayed her.

He had thrown her away.

And the moment she hit the ground—something inside her had shattered beyond repair.

She had never forgiven him.

Not once.

Everything—the softness, the kindness, the quiet acceptance—had been an act.

A perfectly crafted lie, stitched together from the pieces of the girl he had thrown off a cliff.

Because why should he deserve to live?

Why should he get to move on?

It wasn't fair.

And if she couldn't have him—then no one could.

Nari exhaled, the night air chilling her skin.

Her smile faltered.

Just for a second.

A flicker of something deeper—anger, grief, something ugly and raw.

Then, slowly, the smile returned.

She turned away from the ledge, her steps slow, deliberate, as she made her way down the building.

Through the empty stairwell.

Through the heavy door.

Into the cold, buzzing city—

Where Jiho's lifeless body lay sprawled against the pavement.

A small crowd had gathered, faces pale with shock. Someone was calling the police.

No one noticed her.

They never did.

Nari stepped forward, stopping just inches away from him.

His eyes were closed.

His lips slightly parted, as if he had whispered her name just before the end.

Nari crouched beside him.

For the first time, she reached out—not for warmth, not for comfort.

But to touch the final piece of her masterpiece.

Her fingers brushed against his hair, her lips parting slightly.

Then, she whispered—so softly, so intimately

"I'll always be with you, Jiho."

She straightened.

The sirens grew louder.

She didn't wait.

Didn't linger.

Didn't cry.

She simply stood, turned, and walked away.

And as she disappeared into the night—

She was still smiling.