A Silent Farewell

Chapter 29: A Silent Farewell

The morning came too soon, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink, yet it felt as if the night had never truly ended for Yuna. Sleep had been nothing more than a distant thought, replaced by the constant ache in her chest. She had spent hours replaying every moment—every glance, every touch, every word left unsaid.

But now, as she stood in front of the mirror, her reflection felt like that of a stranger. Dark circles framed her weary eyes, and her lips pressed into a firm line. There was no more running. No more waiting.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling through her messages, but nothing had changed.

No texts. No calls. Just silence.

Her heart clenched at the emptiness. Had she really lost them both?

—

Jun-seo sat in the library, staring blankly at the open book in front of him. The words blurred together, his mind unable to focus on anything but the conversation from last night.

"We step back. We let her go."

The words had been so simple, yet they weighed down on him like an unbearable truth. He wanted to believe he had done the right thing, but why did it feel like he had only made things worse?

A small vibration snapped him out of his thoughts. A message from Hyun.

Hyun: I'm leaving town.

Jun-seo's breath hitched. He reread the message over and over, as if his mind refused to process the reality of it. Hyun was truly walking away. And that meant...

Yuna would be left with nothing.

—

Yuna's steps felt heavy as she walked toward the rooftop of the art building—one of the few places where everything had once felt right. The wind played with the loose strands of her hair, and for a moment, she let herself close her eyes, pretending that time had frozen, that everything was still the way it used to be.

But it wasn't.

A sudden gust of wind made her shiver, and when she opened her eyes, she saw it—a single letter, placed neatly at the center of the rooftop floor. Her heart pounded as she approached, hands trembling as she picked it up.

The familiar handwriting made her breath hitch.

Yuna,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Not because I want to, but because I have to. I can't be the person who keeps you from finding what you truly need. I thought loving you meant holding on, but maybe real love is knowing when to let go.

Don't look for me. Don't wait. Just live.

-Hyun

Yuna's grip tightened around the letter, her vision blurring with tears. She felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs, like the world had collapsed around her.

He was really gone.

She sank to her knees, clutching the paper against her chest, the weight of everything crashing down all at once.

And for the first time, she had no one left to hold on to.

Chapter 30: The Echoes of What Once Was

The city was suffocating in its silence, the cold wrapping around Yuna like an unwanted embrace. No matter how tightly she held onto herself, she couldn't stop the emptiness from creeping in.

Yuna walked aimlessly through the empty streets, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold in the last fragments of warmth left within her. But no matter how tightly she held on, she couldn't stop the cold from creeping in.

Hyun was gone. And this time, she wasn't sure if he was ever coming back.

The reality of it had finally settled in, sinking deep into her bones like an inescapable truth. She had read and reread his letter countless times, hoping—praying—that there was some hidden meaning between the lines. But the ink was as resolute as the silence he left behind.

She didn't know how long she had been walking, only that her feet had led her here—back to the bookstore. The beginning of everything. The place where Hyun's presence had first seeped into her life like ink on fragile paper. The place where she had first met both Hyun and Jun-seo, where their tangled fates had first begun to weave together.

But tonight, the bookstore was closed. Its lights were off, the windows darkened, and for the first time, it felt abandoned—just like her. Just like the pieces of her heart Hyun had taken with him.

A lump formed in her throat as she pressed her forehead against the cold glass, her breath fogging up the surface. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes hollow, shoulders slumped in defeat.

How had everything unraveled so quickly?

"Yuna."

Her name floated through the cold air, soft yet heavy, pulling her back from the edge of her thoughts.

She stiffened at the sound of her name, turning slowly.

Jun-seo stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His face was unreadable, his usual composure masking whatever turmoil he might have felt inside. But his eyes—his eyes carried the weight of unspoken words.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Yuna whispered, "He's really gone."

Jun-seo exhaled slowly, his gaze lowering. "I know."

She bit her lip, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Did you know?" Yuna's voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her question hung between them like an anchor.

A pause. Then, with a quiet nod, he admitted, "Yes."

A sharp pang of betrayal sliced through her. "And you didn't stop him?"

Jun-seo flinched, but his voice remained steady. "He made his choice."

"That's not an answer." Her voice cracked. "You could've done something, anything, but you just let him go?"

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things.

Then Jun-seo took a step closer, his eyes dark and searching. "Would you have wanted me to?"

The question caught her off guard.

Would she? Would she have wanted Hyun to stay, even if it meant he wasn't happy? Even if it meant he was just another ghost trapped in the past, unable to move forward?

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't answer.

Jun-seo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He thought he was doing the right thing, Yuna."

She shook her head. "Then why does it feel like I lost something I was never ready to let go of?"

He didn't have an answer to that.

Instead, he did something unexpected. Something that, had it been any other night, she might have pulled away from.

He reached for her.

His fingers brushed against hers, hesitant at first, before his hand finally closed around hers—warm, solid, steady. A quiet reassurance in the middle of the storm raging inside her.

Yuna shuddered but didn't pull away.

For now, maybe that was enough. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to lean on someone else—just for a little while.

For now, maybe she didn't have to carry the weight of it all alone.