Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

         The thing about love is that it’s unpredictable—you never know when it will strike, where it will emerge, or how it will unfold. And sometimes, the most bewildering aspect is that you may never fully grasp what love truly is. Some believe that love arrives when the time is right, that one day, you’ll encounter the right person in the most unexpected of places. The right place, the right person, the right moment.

         — It sounds undeniably beautiful.

         To meet the right person, at the perfect time and place, and share the rest of your life with them.

         — It sounds undeniably like a miracle. 

         And isn't that the purpose of life? 

         To create memories that make our lives meaningful, to live in a way that makes it all worthwhile.

         What I can tell you is that the way people get along depends on fate,

         — the right time, the right place, and the right people. 

         Anything more or less simply won't do.

         But there's another truth you must acknowledge, one that can’t be denied or ignored. You may love someone, and it may always be that same person from the start, but love doesn’t always remain unchanged over time. Even if the people in love stay the same, the love between them might not. Love, like time, can shift and evolve. Feelings can fade away, and that’s the reality. Like water, emotions flow, but they can also dry up. When the feelings are gone, so, too, is the relationship.

         And no one could possibly tell that the depth of your love today might be the depth of your wound tomorrow.

         Because one thing most people don’t realise, fate is a deceiver. 

         Believe in it, it will lie to you.

         For instance, it was fate that brought Kim Dokja's mother and father together, leading them to marriage. It was fate that Kim Dokja was born from their union. But one thing fate never revealed to his mother was whether she had truly met the right person. If she had, perhaps she would be living a happy life somewhere now. Instead, fate spun a different tale—a tale of deceit. How else could she have ended up in prison for killing her own husband, leaving her only child behind to grow up alone, unattended, and unloved?

         This was her fate. She was abused by her drunkard husband, and so was her son.

         This was her fate.

         Kim Dokja’s mother ultimately failed to escape this fate. 

         Tragically, she also passed it on to him, burdening him with the same misfortune.

         Kim Dokja thought his worst days were behind him. He had secured a good job and found a man he loved, but who could have guessed that fate had more in store for him?

         Although his relationship with Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't quite be called ‘love’, Kim Dokja relied on Yoo Joonghyuk in nearly every aspect of his life. He never denied that Yoo Joonghyuk was his inspiration, someone he always looked up to—his saviour, both literally and figuratively. They had been friends since their college days, and Yoo Joonghyuk had actually been his crush from the start. After graduation, they went their separate ways, each pursuing their own dreams and careers. Kim Dokja landed a good position at a rising gaming company, while Yoo Joonghyuk—armed with talent and extraordinary looks—became one of the most famous gaming celebrities, the very one his company chose as their spokesperson.

         It was surprising that they crossed paths again after several forgotten years. Kim Dokja believed it was fate. How else could he explain it? They reintroduced themselves, worked together seamlessly, and enjoyed their time together. Everything seemed like fate. They spent three joyful years as a couple.

         But little did he expect that such a close relationship would one day regress to the state it was before they ever found each other.

         When Yoo Joonghyuk finally regained consciousness after seven days, he stared at Kim Dokja with a bewildered and distant gaze. 

         “You—? Why are you here? Where am I?” His discomfort was evident as he instinctively reached to remove the gauze from his head.

         Kim Dokja quickly grasped Yoo Joonghyuk’s restless hands, stopping him from aggravating the wound. “You were in a car accident. Do you remember? Three days ago, in the afternoon, on your way back from another city, your car rear-ended another on the highway. Seven vehicles were involved in the collision. You sustained a head injury and have been under treatment for the past seven days. Have you forgotten all of this?”

         When Kim Dokja received the news, he was terrified. Only God knew why Yoo Joonghyuk had such a knack for getting into car accidents. He rushed to the hospital, where the doctor informed him that Yoo Joonghyuk had sustained a head injury and was in a coma but should wake up soon. However, Kim Dokja hadn’t expected that ‘soon’ would mean waiting anxiously for a week.

         “Car accident?” Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, his eyes searching Kim Dokja’s face for answers. “But I clearly remember being at a party on a cruise yesterday. How could there have been a car accident?” His expression suddenly shifted, and he grabbed Kim Dokja’s arm, demanding, “Where’s Seolhwa? Lee Seolhwa?”

         Kim Dokja was taken aback by Yoo Joonghyuk’s reaction. Lee Seolhwa? Of course, he knew that name. He had never met her in person, but that didn’t mean he was unaware of her. Yoo Joonghyuk had never mentioned her before—perhaps unwilling to let Kim Dokja know about his past or simply wanting to forget his failure in love.

         Yes, Lee Seolhwa was Yoo Joonghyuk’s ex-fiancée. Kim Dokja was well aware of that—in fact, the entire country knew who she was and what they had been. Their love story had once been splashed across every major social media platform, the internet, and glossy magazine spreads; they even had endorsements that graced billboards three years ago. But then, one day, just as fate had deceived his mother and Kim Dokja himself, it seemed fate had also betrayed Yoo Joonghyuk.

         Kim Dokja didn’t know the specifics, only the headlines that coldly announced they were no longer together… and that was it. He had never mustered the courage to ask Yoo Joonghyuk about his past. To someone like Kim Dokja, who bore the scars of a miserable history, the past was better left buried. And he assumed it must be the same for Yoo Joonghyuk.

         In that, they were both victims of fate’s cruel deceit.

         So now, after all these years, that name—buried deep and forgotten—was suddenly thrust back into the light by Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Dokja didn’t know what to feel; he was completely stunned.

         “What—” Yoo Joonghyuk began, his voice faltering as if the situation was too shocking and absurd to process. He didn’t want to engage with Kim Dokja anymore and instead struggled to sit up, his agitation growing. “Where’s Lee Seolhwa? I need to see her! Is this some kind of prank? Someone must have taken advantage of me being drunk and moved me here. Where am I?”

         As Yoo Joonghyuk became increasingly distressed, Kim Dokja quickly intervened, gently holding him down. “Don’t get anxious. Your injury hasn’t healed yet. I’ll call the doctor for you. Just lie down for a while—”

         Yoo Joonghyuk tried to sit up but winced in pain, his head wound preventing any sudden movements. His face twisted into a grimace, bewilderment clouding his features as if he couldn't fathom that someone would actually hurt him for a prank. His behaviour was unsettling, almost terrifying. Kim Dokja quickly pressed the call bell at the bedside, and within moments, doctors and nurses rushed in.

         He stepped aside, giving up his seat to the medical staff, and quietly exited the room. Outside the door, he sent messages to several of Yoo Joonghyuk's colleagues and family members, who had been anxiously awaiting updates. He informed them that Yoo Joonghyuk had just woken up and was safe.

         About ten minutes later, the doctor emerged from the ward, and Kim Dokja immediately approached him. “How is he? He seems... not quite right.”

         The doctor responded cautiously, explaining that the human brain is incredibly complex. He noted that Yoo Joonghyuk had suffered a head injury and had been in a coma for a week, making his current condition unpredictable. The doctor diagnosed him with ‘retrospective amnesia’, a condition where past memories are temporarily lost. While he was hopeful that Yoo Joonghyuk's memory might improve over time, he also warned that there was a possibility it might never fully recover.

         Finally, the doctor summarised, “At present, it's recommended to monitor him closely. The primary approach is self-healing, supported by psychological treatment.”

         "Will his symptoms get worse?" Kim Dokja's voice trembled with fear, imagining the horrifying possibility that Yoo Joonghyuk might regress further each day until he was reduced to a babbling infant. The thought was terrifying.

         The doctor could only offer a measured response. “All I can advise is to notify us immediately if anything changes. Beyond that, I can't make any guarantees.”

         After giving Kim Dokja a few more precautions, the doctor left. Kim Dokja remained standing in the hospital corridor, a mix of confusion and grim amusement swirling inside him. He had read countless novels, each with its own dramatic amnesia scene—he could recall at least five off the top of his head—but none of them came close to capturing the reality of his emotions right now. He leaned against the wall and let out a bitter smile, overwhelmed by the irony of it all.

         After glancing at the tightly closed door of the ward across from him, Kim Dokja lowered his head and added another line to the reassuring text message he had just sent:  

         — He seems to have lost his memory.

         Kim Dokja lingered at the door of the ward for a long time, torn between entering and leaving. Why had Yoo Joonghyuk lost the last three years of his memory? Of all the moments to forget, why did it have to be the memories of their time together? Why had Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind erased everything after meeting Kim Dokja, leaving him stranded in a time when he was still in love with Lee Seolhwa? The timing felt cruel, almost as if fate itself had a twisted sense of irony. 

         Kim Dokja recalled their relationship with a sense of enchantment, much like a fairy tale where Prince Charming finally meets Snow White. Yoo Joonghyuk was already renowned when a minor accident led him to the hospital, where he first encountered Lee Seolhwa. She was an intern at the time, working as an assistant to the operational doctor. Was it love at first sight? 

         Most likely, as the rumours had suggested. 

         Yet, one day, they decided to part ways. The reasons were shrouded in speculation: some claimed it was due to their demanding careers, while others said Lee Seolhwa needed to focus on her work abroad. Kim Dokja vividly remembered how deeply they cared for each other during their time together. Yoo Joonghyuk was fiercely protective of Lee Seolhwa, defending her honour with a fervour that left no room for criticism. Anyone who dared to speak ill of her faced his wrath.

         But it was all in the past.

         Whatever happened, they ended.

         Yoo Joonghyuk had started a new chapter in his life—with him.

         So now, how could Kim Dokja possibly explain their relationship to Yoo Joonghyuk, especially when everything had been reset to a time before they even began? He stood at the door for what felt like an eternity, his palms damp with sweat as he gripped the handle. He went over the words in his mind again and again, yet none of them seemed right. Finally, with a deep breath and a resolve born of necessity, Kim Dokja gritted his teeth, pushed the door open, and returned to his seat beside Yoo Joonghyuk, meeting his gaze head-on.

         His heart was pounding. “You must’ve heard what the doctor said. This is not a prank, and I’m not a liar.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk leaned on the bed with a pale face, looked at him up and down, and said calmly: “Where is Lee Seolhwa? I want to see her.”

         For some reason, he could hear a hint of uneasiness in Yoo Joonghyuk’s words, and his heart softened all of a sudden. The way Yoo Joonghyuk looked reminded him of when Yoo Joonghyuk was a delinquent three years ago. Yes, three years ago, Yoo Joonghyuk had an accident also, in which he had to be brought into the emergency unit. Speaking of which, Kim Dokja thought he really should go to the temple and burn some incense for him. Three years ago, a serious car accident caused him to hit a double low in his career and love life. He also had a pale face and lay in bed all day. He was obviously in pieces, but he still pretended to be calm and didn't allow himself to show the slightest bit of vulnerability.

         Kim Dokja sighed deeply, trying to steady his racing thoughts before speaking. “You need to calm down and listen to me, otherwise it will be bad for your condition. You and Lee Seolhwa... you broke up three years ago.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk fell silent, his expression unreadable as he seemed lost in thought. Kim Dokja noticed the slight tremor in his eyelashes and hesitated, realising that Yoo Joonghyuk must be struggling with this revelation. He decided to stop, not wanting to push him too far.

         But then, Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze sharpened, and he looked directly at Kim Dokja. “Then who are you?” he asked, his voice quiet but piercing.

         His eyes, dark and intense, bore into Kim Dokja with a gaze that felt like a blade cutting through any defences. The force of that stare made Kim Dokja flinch, instinctively wanting to look away, afraid that if he met it head-on, it would slice him open, exposing everything he was trying so hard to keep together.

         It was a complicated, tangled story—the kind that couldn’t be summed up in a few simple words. But in this moment, with Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind clouded by the loss of memory, Kim Dokja knew he couldn't risk revealing too much. Yoo Joonghyuk was unpredictable now—his reactions unknowable. The fear gnawed at him: what if Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t accept the truth, dismissing him as nothing more than a disposable part of his life and casting him aside without a second thought? 

         Kim Dokja took a deep breath, steeling himself, and tried to infuse his voice with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel. “I am your current... companion.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s reaction was immediate, his eyebrow arching in clear disbelief. “Me, and you?” His voice dripped with disdain, and the look on his face was unmistakable—disgusted, plain as day. His temper flared, the tension in the room rising with it. 

         Kim Dokja forced a smile, “Yes, you and me.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk hummed dismissively through his nose, clearly unimpressed with the aesthetic preferences of his other self. Even after being knocked into a fool, he was still as picky as ever. Kim Dokja turned his face away, seizing the moment to roll his eyes. Sure, he might not be as stunning as Lee Seolhwa, but he was confident that he was still attractive. How could Yoo Joonghyuk so easily dismiss their relationship? They had been together for years, and Yoo Joonghyuk had certainly seemed content—especially in bed. Now, with his memory lost, it felt as though Kim Dokja was forcing something that had once come naturally.

         Despite the grumbling in his mind, Kim Dokja kept his expression neutral, careful not to let any resentment slip.

         “Give me your phone,” Yoo Joonghyuk demanded, his tone cold and commanding. “I want to make a call.”

         Kim Dokja handed over his phone without hesitation, though he was momentarily taken aback when Yoo Joonghyuk looked at the model as if it were something foreign. For a brief moment, Kim Dokja debated whether he should help dial the number, but Yoo Joonghyuk, relying on instinct or sheer intelligence, quickly managed to punch in the digits. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up.

         "Who are you trying to call?" Kim Dokja asked, unable to mask the unease in his voice. Watching how easily Yoo Joonghyuk dialled the number, a sinking feeling settled in his chest. Could it be Lee Seolhwa? 

         The thought gnawed at him—Yoo Joonghyuk probably didn't even remember the first few digits of his own number, but Lee Seolhwa’s seemed etched into his mind. It was a stark reminder of the difference between true love and mere companionship.

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn't respond. Instead, he impatiently dialled another number, his expression growing even more frustrated as he stared at the phone. Curious about what was troubling him so much, Kim Dokja leaned in and noticed that when Yoo Joonghyuk dialled, a name appeared in the contacts list.

         “If you’re calling Mia, she said she would come in the afternoon,” Kim Dokja informed him, trying to sound casual despite the chaos in his heart.

         Yoo Mia was Yoo Joonghyuk's only sister, one of the few people he trusted deeply. After being with him for three years, Kim Dokja was no stranger to receiving calls from her. But given the current state of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind, it was possible he was imagining things.

         “I know she’s your sister. You're the one who asked me to save her number and told me to contact her if I couldn't reach you. But it seems you've forgotten that now,” Kim Dokja remarked, trying to keep his tone light as the phone rang.

         Just then, the call connected.

         “Ahjussi?” Yoo Mia's voice came through the line, soft and concerned.

         Yoo Joonghyuk answered, his voice steady, “It's me…”

         Kim Dokja observed Yoo Joonghyuk’s shifting expressions as he listened to whatever Yoo Mia was saying on the other end of the call. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face grew increasingly serious, darkening as if a storm cloud had settled over him. When Yoo Joonghyuk glanced at him, Kim Dokja instinctively straightened up, feeling the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze as if it were an instructor’s stern eyes during a military drill.

         “Yes, I can't remember anything... He was here,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his voice tight. That glance, cold and assessing, made Kim Dokja's heart skip a beat. He tried to keep his composure as the call continued.

         After about five minutes, Yoo Joonghyuk finally hung up. When he turned back to Kim Dokja, his demeanour had shifted slightly; the wariness in his eyes had softened.

         “Mia asked me to trust you,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his tone more neutral now.

         Seizing the opportunity, Kim Dokja quickly plastered on a bright smile, trying to ease the tension. “There's no need for me to lie to you, right? Besides, you're so smart, Joonghyuk-ah. I won't be able to fool you.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond verbally, but his silence wasn’t as hostile as before. Instead, he took the phone and began surfing the internet, his attention now focused on catching up with the world he felt disconnected from. 

         Kim Dokja touched his nose, feeling a pang of embarrassment. Despite Mia's encouragement to trust him, it was clear that Yoo Joonghyuk still saw him as nearly a stranger, someone whose presence in his life was puzzling and unsettling. If Yoo Joonghyuk were to drop his guard so easily, he wouldn’t be the person Kim Dokja remembered. At the moment, Lee Seolhwa was likely the only person Yoo Joonghyuk was fervently searching for; everything else seemed secondary and unimportant.

         After about ten minutes of browsing, Yoo Joonghyuk pinched the bridge of his nose, his discomfort obvious. Sensing that he wasn’t feeling well, Kim Dokja quickly moved to help, adjusting the pillow and urging him to lie down. 

         “Your injury hasn’t healed yet. Don’t push yourself. The most important thing right now is to recover,” Kim Dokja said, gently taking the phone away.

         Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him, but instead of reacting with anger, his exhaustion was obvious. It seemed as if grappling with this new reality had drained all his energy. “Why can’t I find anything about you on the internet? About us?”

         Kim Dokja was caught off guard. It made sense that Yoo Joonghyuk would search for any trace of their relationship online, especially when his memories were stuck in a time when Lee Seolhwa was the centre of his world. Of course, he would be confused; during his time with Lee Seolhwa, their relationship had been widely covered by the media, a fairy-tale romance in the public eye. But with Kim Dokja, there was no such coverage—no public acknowledgment, no flashy headlines. Their relationship had been private, almost invisible to the outside world. 

         He quickly composed himself and offered a gentle smile as he took the phone from Yoo Joonghyuk's hand. “You won’t find anything about us online.” Kim Dokja explained softly. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him, his eyes searching for any sign of deceit. But Kim Dokja met his gaze steadily, hoping to convey sincerity. After a moment, Yoo Joonghyuk sighed and leaned back against the pillow, clearly exhausted. 

         “Why didn't we make it public?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his voice tinged with frustration. The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of all the unspoken things between them. 

         Kim Dokja hesitated before replying. “You were already under so much pressure from the media and your career. We wanted something that was just ours, something that wasn’t tainted by outside opinions. It was... easier that way, or so we thought.” 

         Yoo Joonghyuk's expression softened slightly, though confusion and fatigue still lingered in his eyes. “But now... it feels like none of it existed.”

         Kim Dokja felt a sharp pang in his chest at those words—  ‘none of it existed’. 

         The fear that their relationship might have been nothing more than a dream, something that could vanish without a trace, was a thought he knew all too well. What if it was true? What if all those moments they shared were nothing more than an illusion, and this car crash was the rude awakening from that ‘dream’?

         No matter how sweet a dream might be, there comes a time when you have to wake up. 

         And when you do, it can turn into a nightmare.

         A shiver ran through Kim Dokja at the thought. Yet, he forced himself to speak with as much conviction as he could muster. “It did exist,” he murmured softly, “It’s just—different from what you’re used to. But we’re real, Joonghyuk-ah.” He said the words with a sincerity he wasn’t sure he fully felt himself.

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond immediately, but he didn’t push Kim Dokja away either. Instead, he closed his eyes, seemingly resigning himself to the need for rest.

         The sun streamed brightly through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. A vase of fresh flowers on the bedside table bloomed with vibrant colours, their delicate fragrance mingling with the sunlight. Kim Dokja adjusted the quilt for Yoo Joonghyuk and then settled into a chair by the bed, keeping a watchful eye on him.

         This serene scene brought Kim Dokja back to the days when he had stood by Yoo Joonghyuk’s side during his rehabilitation. He had dedicated himself to the task—massaging him three times a day, serving him tea and water, attending to his needs, and even helping with his most personal moments. Every gesture had been driven by his love, but now, after enduring so much over the years, he found himself face-to-face with the unexpected twists of fate. 

         Perhaps, it was true— fate never forgets, this was his karma.

         He sighed inwardly. 

         Mia had been scheduled to arrive in the afternoon, but upon receiving Kim Dokja’s urgent text about Yoo Joonghyuk’s memory loss, she sped over immediately. Unlike a traditional beauty, Mia bore a striking resemblance to her brother. Tall and commanding, she wore high heels and sported two ponytails, her sharp jawline mirroring Yoo Joonghyuk’s. Standing before Kim Dokja, she was nearly his height, and her presence often led people to mistake her for a supermodel when she was out and about.

         Seeing her approach, Kim Dokja, mindful of not disturbing Yoo Joonghyuk who had just drifted off to sleep, chose to meet her in the corridor to avoid any unnecessary noise.

         Before Kim Dokja could speak, Mia grasped his hand with a fervent grip and said, “Ahjussi, thank you for everything you’ve done for Oppa. Now that he’s like this, you mustn’t give up on him…” Her eyes were brimming with tears, and Kim Dokja found himself unable to refuse her plea.

         To Mia, after watching him standing beside her brother for three years, it must have seemed like a deep and unchanging love over the past three years. For her, perhaps it was a love that would endure through any trial.

         For Kim Dokja— yes, he believed it was love, his love for Yoo Joonghyuk. 

         Yet now, doubt crept in. In the face of Yoo Joonghyuk’s memory loss, Kim Dokja found himself questioning whether that sentiment was equally true for Yoo Joonghyuk. He wondered if Yoo Joonghyuk’s feelings had ever matched his own or if they had changed over time. 

         How could Yoo Joonghyuk forget about them so easily? Perhaps Kim Dokja had never truly been significant in Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart. Deep down, maybe he was just a passing figure, someone who meant little to Yoo Joonghyuk. Despite his attempts to reassure himself that feelings from three years together should have left some trace, the harsh reality was undeniable: Yoo Joonghyuk could only remember Lee Seolhwa, the person who truly mattered to him. 

         Lee Seolhwa was the only name that surfaced when he awoke.

         Lee Seolhwa was the only name he could think of, worry about, and search for.

         But where did that leave Kim Dokja? What was his place in Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart?

         Three years ago, Kim Dokja had stood by Yoo Joonghyuk’s side during his rehabilitation, enduring his temper and showing his love openly to Yoo Joonghyuk’s family. But now, faced with this stark reality, all for what?

         It took Kim Dokja a long time to dispel the accusations that he was merely clinging to Yoo Joonghyuk for fame, fortune, and money. He had been there to help Yoo Joonghyuk recover, to support him as he moved on from Lee Seolhwa, to help him continue his life, and even to shield him from embarrassment. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk himself had declared that Kim Dokja was his only choice.

         Then again—

         What could he complain about?

         They both got what they needed. For Kim Dokja, that meant having someone to love and to come home to. For someone who had lost both love and a home from a young age, it was more than he could have hoped for. He no longer sought status; they had agreed to keep their relationship private, known only to their closest friends and family.

         But that was the past.

         “Don’t worry, I will take good care of him,” Kim Dokja said as he patted Mia’s hand, gently freeing himself from her grasp.

         With everything that had happened, he had no choice but to go with the flow. This thought ignited in him like a spark in a pile of firewood, quickly growing into an all-consuming blaze. Kim Dokja hoped that one day Yoo Joonghyuk would remember. He would do anything to protect him,

         —to protect them.

         Yet, the birth of a troubling idea is often just the beginning of deeper misfortune.

         Afraid that Yoo Joonghyuk might wake up and find himself alone, Kim Dokja and Mia chose to stay close, lingering in the corridor rather than going anywhere else. Fortunately, both of them were anything but dull, filling the time with conversations about work and gossip until they heard movement from inside the room. The moment they detected any sound, they rushed in, almost like hound dogs trained to be hyper-alert.

         Yoo Joonghyuk was sitting up against the head of the bed, his gaze shifting between Kim Dokja and Mia. After a moment, he extended his slender finger, pointed towards the door, and said to Kim Dokja, “Get out.”

         Mia quickly averted her eyes, not daring to speak on his behalf.

         Kim Dokja turned and left without uttering a word, even taking care to close the door behind him. Standing alone in the corridor felt odd, so he wandered into a nearby family lounge, where he found a seat and picked up the closest newspaper. A few days ago, news of Yoo Joonghyuk's car accident had dominated the entertainment headlines, complete with a photo of the crash scene.

         This was the first time Kim Dokja had seen images of the wreckage, and to be honest, it scared him. The long line of crumpled vehicles, the shattered glass scattered across the ground—it was all truly shocking. He couldn’t help but wonder if Yoo Joonghyuk was fortunate or unfortunate to have survived.

         But there was one thing the media didn’t know, and in a way, Kim Dokja was grateful for that small mercy.

         After half an hour in the lounge, Mia still hadn’t appeared, but Yoo Joonghyuk's assistant, Lee Jihye, walked in. “Dokja Ahjussi, you should go home and rest. Mia asked me to take over. From now on, I'll be taking care of Master!”

         Lee Jihye, despite her petite and pretty appearance, was surprisingly strong and capable. She had only been with Yoo Joonghyuk for half a year, but she had already proven herself to be reliable, hardworking, and trustworthy.

         Kim Dokja stood up, placing the newspaper back into the rack. “Okay, I'll head back then,” he said with a nod. There was no point in lingering, especially with Lee Jihye and Mia there to take charge.

         He genuinely needed that rest. He had spent an entire week at Yoo Joonghyuk's side, barely leaving except for a quick change of clothes and a meal. Strangely enough, he felt a twinge of gratitude for Yoo Joonghyuk's amnesia. Under normal circumstances, if Yoo Joonghyuk was uncomfortable, he wouldn't allow anyone near him, no matter how bad he felt. Kim Dokja would have been forced to care for him around the clock, enduring sleepless nights and constant worry. Every time Yoo Joonghyuk was ill, Kim Dokja suffered alongside him.

         As he drove out of the hospital garage, barely touching the road, his phone rang. Han Sooyoung was calling, her timing so perfect that Kim Dokja briefly wondered if she had installed a surveillance camera in his car. Her tone was unusually cheerful, even playful, as she suggested treating him to a meal.

         When Han Sooyoung wanted to meet, Kim Dokja didn't hesitate to agree. They decided on a Chinese restaurant, a quiet spot near her office. Half an hour later, both of them arrived.

         “How are you?” Han Sooyoung asked with genuine concern as they took their seats at the table she had booked.

         “It's been a week since the car accident,” Kim Dokja replied, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. “Yoo Joonghyuk finally woke up today, but the doctor says he has retrograde amnesia. We don't know if he'll ever recover fully.” The sorrow in his heart felt deeper than the sea, but he couldn't bring himself to share it with anyone. Even the dumplings, usually his favourite, tasted bitter in his mouth.

         Han Sooyoung frowned, her expression turning serious. “Another accident? Why does he always get into car accidents?” She didn't wait for his response, musing aloud, “Maybe it's for the best that he lost his memory. You could take this chance to break up with him. His fate is bad—who knows, he might drag you down with him.”

         Han Sooyoung was a person of high standards, but when it came to Yoo Joonghyuk, she never held back her harshness. Kim Dokja chose to ignore her pointed remarks and calmly forked a piece of vegetable into his mouth, chewing slowly before replying, “No, I’m going to hold on to him tightly, for the rest of my life.” Call him naive, but he truly believed that for the sake of love, he had to stay. There was no way he could leave Yoo Joonghyuk at a time like this.

         Han Sooyoung looked at him with both confusion and frustration. “I really don’t get how your brain works,” she said, shaking her head. “What’s so great about staying with him? From where I’m standing, it looks like he’s just taking advantage of you. You do everything for him, but what do you get in return? Not even a proper status. More like friends with benefits, if that.”

         “Sooyoung-ah—” 

         “Don’t interrupt me,” Han Sooyoung snapped. “So what if he’s handsome, famous, and rich? Squid, look at yourself. You’re smart, and haven’t you made enough money over the years to live comfortably? Don’t tell me it’s because he loves you, because I won’t believe it.”

         Kim Dokja smiled bitterly. Han Sooyoung had never liked Yoo Joonghyuk, and this was exactly how she saw him—someone unworthy of Kim Dokja’s devotion. He kept silent about Yoo Joonghyuk’s memory loss, about how Yoo Joonghyuk only remembered Lee Seolhwa and had forgotten about him entirely. The thought of her outrage, should she ever find out, was something Kim Dokja dared not even imagine. Han Sooyoung’s expression shifted to confusion as she noticed the way Kim Dokja’s face gradually darkened.

         Han Sooyoung looked puzzled watching Kim Dokja’s face slowly darkened. 

         “You seriously don’t need him, Squid.”

         “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Sooyoung-ah.” His voice trembled slightly. “No one else wants me anyway.”

         Han Sooyoung’s frown deepened with anger. “What nonsense are you talking about—”

         But Kim Dokja interrupted her with a chuckle. “I bought a house on a loan with him.”

         Han Sooyoung was taken aback. This was new information to her.

         “If I lose him, I won’t be able to pay back the loan. By then, I’ll have to trade the house and car for something small and old, and live frugally every day. Do you really want to live with someone in that kind of life?”

         Without a moment’s hesitation, Han Sooyoung replied, “I do!”

         Her voice was so loud in the quiet restaurant that it drew the attention of everyone around them. People who didn’t know any better might have thought Kim Dokja had just proposed to her.

         “You may be willing, but everyone else isn’t. Even I wouldn’t,” Kim Dokja said, his smile fading. “I don’t want to live a hard life anymore. I don’t want to sleep alone, or drink so much that I wake up in the toilet the next day.” He flicked the glass beside him. “If I don’t hold on to Yoo Joonghyuk tightly, how many chances do you think I’ll get to have someone by my side? To grow old together? You may not like him, Sooyoung-ah, but don’t forget that he once saved my life.”

         The mood of the meal was set, and after paying the bill, they parted ways—Han Sooyoung heading back to her mansion and Kim Dokja returning to Yoo Joonghyuk's place. No farewells were exchanged. Exhausted, Kim Dokja barely settled in before receiving a text from Mia.

         [Ahjussi, if it’s convenient, can I call you?]

         Kim Dokja's brow furrowed in concern. Had something gone wrong? He quickly dialled Mia.

         “Mia? I’m sorry, I’ve just gotten home. Did something happen?” His voice betrayed his anxiety, knowing anything could have occurred at the hospital while he was away. He regretted leaving Yoo Joonghyuk and even attending dinner with Han Sooyoung.

         “It’s okay, Ahjussi,” Mia said soothingly. “I was just waiting for Oppa to fall back asleep before I called you.”

         “What’s going on, Mia? Is there something I need to know?”

         Mia hesitated before speaking. “Ahjussi, would it be alright if we invited Seolhwa-unnie to come and see Oppa?”

         Kim Dokja’s heart sank. They were considering bringing Lee Seolhwa into the situation?

         “It’s Oppa’s request. He just wants to be sure that they... they are really over.”

         Kim Dokja’s heart sank further. “Does that mean your brother doesn’t believe me?”

         “No, that’s not what I meant!” Mia hastily clarified. “It’s just—everything happened so suddenly, and Oppa is afraid he—”

         Kim Dokja took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Did it matter anymore? At this point, no, it didn’t. Really. “It’s alright, Mia. Just do what he’s asked.”

         “I’m really sorry, Ahjussi. I—I don’t know what to say.”

         Kim Dokja almost laughed, though it felt hollow. Mia didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t know what to feel. Should he be angry? Frustrated? Yes, he was. He wanted to shout, to scream at Mia, ‘Are you out of your mind?’

         What about him? There was no personal conflict with Lee Seolhwa, but as Yoo Joonghyuk’s ex, and considering their painful breakup, why couldn’t Yoo Joonghyuk take his feelings into account?

         In the end, Kim Dokja sighed heavily. “If that’s what your brother needs, then go ahead. Call her.”

         But then it struck him—Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t even have a way to contact Lee Seolhwa. So how could Mia—

         “We’re still trying to find her current active number,” Mia explained. “That’s why I asked Jihye to come over so we could discuss this.”

         Kim Dokja felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to say, ‘I wish I could help,’ but in truth, he had no such intention and didn’t want to feign concern. So, he ended the call, politely wished Mia a good night, and turned to his work emails.

         He spent the next hour going through them, trying to lose himself in the familiar routine. When he was done, he stretched out on the sofa, twisted his sore neck, and decided it was time to take a shower. Afterward, Kim Dokja originally planned to go to bed early, but before turning in, he couldn’t resist the urge to check Twitter. The headlines confirmed it: the news of Yoo Joonghyuk waking up had spread.

         Yoo Joonghyuk had been keeping a low profile over the past two years, focusing on cultivating his character rather than maintaining his former popularity. Yet, his fan base hadn't dwindled; if anything, the number of his fans rivalled those of the most popular young stars. On social media, fans were flooding the internet with prayers and thanks to God for his recovery. The number of reposts quickly soared into six figures. But what would happen if they found out that Yoo Joonghyuk had lost his memory?

         Just as Kim Dokja was about to log off, a comment caught his eye: [You've done too many bad things, God can't stand it, you deserve it.]

         His irritation flared, and he couldn’t resist clicking on the person’s profile. Scrolling through several posts, he confirmed that the user was indeed a hater of Yoo Joonghyuk. Kim Dokja sighed, wondering what Yoo Joonghyuk had done to deserve such hostility. Sometimes, even when you do everything right, people still judge you harshly. This world was strange that way—people could twist right and wrong based on nothing more than subjective speculation.

         He wished people could see beyond Yoo Joonghyuk's cold exterior and recognize the loyal heart that lay beneath. Sadly, that heart had never belonged to Kim Dokja. From the very first time they met, Kim Dokja had known how deeply in love Yoo Joonghyuk was with Lee Seolhwa.

         They had first crossed paths during a company event organised by Kim Dokja’s firm. The second time they met was under far graver circumstances—Yoo Joonghyuk had been in a terrible accident, one even worse than the one he was currently recovering from. That accident had occurred three years ago, and it was why Kim Dokja had been by his side throughout the gruelling process of rehabilitation. Not that Kim Dokja wanted to complain, but where had Lee Seolhwa been during that time?

         He had been right there when the accident happened. While everyone else was paralyzed with panic, unsure of what to do, Kim Dokja was the one who rushed into the street, pulling the unconscious Yoo Joonghyuk from the mangled wreckage of the car. It was him who carried Yoo Joonghyuk to safety, his clothes soaked in blood, who went to the emergency room and stayed there the entire night, refusing to leave his side.

         And where was Lee Seolhwa?

         Nowhere to be seen.

         Wherever she was at the time, it was impossible for her not to have heard about the accident. It had been all over the news. But she never showed up, never visited. She wasn’t the one who bathed Yoo Joonghyuk, who fed him, washed his clothes, or cleaned the house. Yoo Joonghyuk’s friends and family had been desperate to find her, to tell her what had happened, but she never responded.

         But then again, no one had asked Kim Dokja to take care of Yoo Joonghyuk. 

         He had chosen to do so.

         “I’m an idiot,” Kim Dokja muttered to himself, turning off the computer with a sigh. A sense of melancholy settled over him as he glanced at the time. Unable to shake his worry, he sent a quick message to Lee Jihye, asking how Yoo Joonghyuk was doing.

         A few moments later, her reply came in, “Don't worry, Master is fine. He had dinner, watched TV for a while, and then went to bed.”

         Kim Dokja let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, relief washing over him. Just as he was about to set his phone down and get some sleep, another message buzzed in. 

         “He also asked about you.”

         Kim Dokja tightened his grip on the phone, anxiety creeping in. He quickly typed a reply, “Ask me what?”

         A moment later, Lee Jihye responded, “He asked me how your relationship was. I told him you two had a good relationship, but he didn’t say anything.”

         Kim Dokja felt a pang of disappointment. Yoo Joonghyuk still didn’t believe him. The doubt was still there.

         “Well, just tell him what he wants to know.”

         That was his final reply, the words leaving him with a sense of emptiness.

         After putting down his phone, Kim Dokja sat in silence, staring at nothing with his mind blank. Suddenly, he stood up, the need to do something—anything—overtaking him. Slipping on his slippers, he began tearing through the house, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. He rummaged through drawers, cabinets, even turning over the cushions on the sofa. But nothing turned up, not even in Yoo Joonghyuk's bedroom or study.

         There was only one place left.

         Kim Dokja approached a painting hanging on the wall. With a deep breath, he carefully took it down, revealing a safe embedded in the wall behind it. His hands trembled slightly as he turned the combination lock, trying various codes—Yoo Joonghyuk's birthday, the house number—but none worked. He hesitated, then even considered using his own birthday, but of course, that wasn’t it either.

         Finally, frustration and helplessness washed over him, and he gave up. Kim Dokja replaced the painting, making sure it hung perfectly, without any sign that it had been moved. With a heart heavy with worry, he went to bed, but sleep remained elusive, his thoughts tangled in the what-ifs and unanswered questions.

         The relationship between Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk was so tangled and strange that even Kim Dokja found it bewildering whenever he thought about it. It had been three years since the affair between Yoo Joonghyuk and Lee Seolhwa came to light, and about a month after that scandal, the accident occurred. Kim Dokja had been the first to respond, staying by Yoo Joonghyuk’s side all night.

         He didn’t regret saving Yoo Joonghyuk. It was the right thing to do, after all. Anyone in his position would have likely done the same, especially when the person involved in the accident was once your own crush. When someone from Yoo Joonghyuk’s family finally arrived and expressed their gratitude, Kim Dokja knew it was his cue to leave. Yoo Joonghyuk had been moved from the emergency unit, and there was nothing more for him to do.

         But as he was leaving, he overheard a group of nurses whispering that Yoo Joonghyuk had severely injured his leg and might never be able to stand again. Kim Dokja was stunned, unable to fully grasp the emotions swirling in his heart. 

         “Is the injury really that serious?” He found himself asking the nurses, the words slipping out before he could stop them. 

         Initially, the nurses were hesitant to disclose any information. But when one of them recognized Kim Dokja as the person who had pulled Yoo Joonghyuk from the wreckage, assuming he must be a close friend, she nodded sympathetically.

         It suddenly made sense why there had been no news about Yoo Joonghyuk’s injury. The nurse sighed deeply, her voice heavy with regret. “He was so young, and now... he’s lost so much. It’s such a pity.”

         Kim Dokja could only nod, echoing her sentiment. “Yeah, he really has bad luck,” he murmured, though the weight of those words felt much heavier than he could express.

         Kim Dokja felt a great sympathy for Yoo Joonghyuk, but they weren’t close back then. Visiting him unannounced seemed out of place, especially since it was clear that Yoo Joonghyuk and his colleagues had gone to great lengths to keep the news of his injury under wraps. Kim Dokja reasoned that Yoo Joonghyuk probably didn’t want anyone disturbing him.

         Still, when the elevator doors opened on Yoo Joonghyuk’s floor, Kim Dokja couldn’t resist taking a second look. The sight of Yoo Joonghyuk sleeping peacefully brought a small smile to his face. At least, he thought, Yoo Joonghyuk was safe.

         At the time, Kim Dokja didn’t dwell too much on Yoo Joonghyuk. He was preoccupied with new projects and his career was reaching new heights. It wasn’t until a month later, when he came across a news article about Yoo Joonghyuk taking a break from the gaming world to recover, that he remembered him again.

         Upon learning that Yoo Joonghyuk was still in the hospital, Kim Dokja decided that perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pay him a visit. There was nothing wrong with it, after all, and—call him selfish—this might be a chance to introduce himself properly.

         When he returned to the hospital, he overheard the nurses discussing how Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t accept his disability. They mentioned how he kept throwing tantrums and refused to cooperate with his treatment, leaving the staff bewildered and exhausted. Kim Dokja's heart sank as he listened, feeling a deep sense of pity for him. Without fully understanding why, a surge of anger propelled him to rush to Yoo Joonghyuk’s ward. 

         As Kim Dokja stood in the corridor, he felt absurd, even abnormal. Why was he so angry? He didn’t know Yoo Joonghyuk that well—he wasn’t even a friend. Just as he decided to leave, ready to walk away from the entire situation, he heard something crash to the floor, followed by raised voices.

         "I want to see Lee Seolhwa! Call her over here! Call her over here!"

         "Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you want to see someone as heartless and disloyal as Lee Seolhwa? Oppa, she left you. Please, just listen to me and focus on your recovery. Once your leg heals, you can find her yourself."

         “She’s not the kind of person you’re saying she is—I don’t believe it. She must not know what happened to me, that’s why. Go tell her! I want to see her.”

         Kim Dokja knew this wasn’t the right time to pay a visit. He was about to turn and leave when the door to the ward suddenly opened, revealing him standing there. The alert nurse had spotted him and, without hesitation, exposed his presence to the room. Inside, he saw Yoo Joonghyuk lying on the bed, arguing with a girl who he quickly realised was Yoo Joonghyuk’s sister, Yoo Mia. The tension in the room was obvious, and the last thing Kim Dokja wanted was to add to it. 

         He remembered the look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes when their gazes met—there was no confusion, only a clear, sharp disgust, as if he was repulsed by the sight of a total stranger staring at him during such a vulnerable moment. Embarrassed, Kim Dokja quickly apologised, lowering his head as he prepared to make a hasty exit. But before he could step away, Yoo Mia’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

         “Ahjussi, aren’t you the one who saved Oppa?”

         Kim Dokja was momentarily stunned. The girl had indeed recognised him. Now he felt awkward, standing there, unsure of how to proceed. Leaving abruptly would be rude, but staying felt uncomfortable. Reluctantly, he stepped further into the room, offering a polite bow as he introduced himself. “I'm Kim Dokja. I was just... passing by.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t even spare him a glance. His cold, indifferent gaze remained fixed on the wall, as if Kim Dokja’s presence was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. 

         It was only Yoo Mia who tried hard to engage in conversation, expressing her gratitude repeatedly. “Thank you so much for saving my brother. We’re really grateful.”

         Kim Dokja nodded, offering a small, uncomfortable smile. “It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same.”

         Despite Mia's warm words, Kim Dokja couldn’t shake the growing sadness in his heart. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t remember him at all—not from their college days, not from the accident. He was just another stranger to him, someone unimportant. But Kim Dokja told himself it was okay. It didn’t matter if Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t recognize him or remember their brief interactions from the past. At least Yoo Joonghyuk was alive and well. That was what mattered most. 

         With nothing left to say, Kim Dokja prepared to make a quiet exit, but Mia stopped him once more.

         "I have to make some calls. Ahjussi, you can stay and chat with Oppa for a while. I’ll be back soon." She smiled politely before leaving the room.

         Now truly feeling awkward, Kim Dokja found himself at a loss. He stood there, unsure of what to say, simply staring at the man lying in the bed.

         “What’s your name again?” Yoo Joonghyuk finally asked.

         “Dokja—Kim Dokja,” he replied.

         Silence fell between them once more.

         Then, unexpectedly, Yoo Joonghyuk spoke again. “I remember,” he said, his tone neutral. “You’re the manager from S company. We met at the last event.”

         Kim Dokja wasn’t sure if he should be pleased, but a small part of him felt glad that Yoo Joonghyuk remembered meeting him. “Yes, I was there, and I saw you, too. It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to know each other better.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond, only offering a nod.

         “I—” Kim Dokja hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I was there when the accident happened. I saw you trying to avoid a motorcycle that suddenly came out of nowhere. I—”

         He abruptly stopped when he noticed the darkening of Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression. Panic gripped him—what had he done? He hadn’t intended to bring up that traumatic event. He had just been trying to keep the conversation going, maybe offer some context for his presence here. The last thing he wanted was to dredge up those painful memories for Yoo Joonghyuk.

         “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

         “Doesn’t matter. Thanks for saving me.”

         “You don’t have to. I just—”

         “You should’ve just left me to die there.”

         Kim Dokja froze, the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Why would he say something like that?

         “Even if I’m alive now, I’m no different from a dead person,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his voice hollow, as if all the fight had been drained out of him.

         “But you’re not,” Kim Dokja insisted, his own voice trembling as he tried to grasp at something, anything, that could offer comfort. “You’re still alive and well—”

         “What ‘well’?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice cracked as he snapped, the words filled with a bitterness that cut deep. “Didn’t you hear what they’re saying about me? I can no longer use my legs, and—and the person I cared about the most has left me. What do I have left to make me want to keep on living?”

         The silence that followed was suffocating. Kim Dokja could see the despair etched in Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, the way his eyes seemed to dim as if the light had been snuffed out. It was a look that spoke of deep, unending sadness, a resignation to a fate that seemed cruel and unforgiving. Kim Dokja’s heart ached, a heavy, sinking feeling settling in his chest as he stood there, unable to find the right words to break through the thick wall of sorrow that surrounded the man before him.

         “Yes, they did say your legs have problems,” Kim Dokja began carefully, trying to inject some hope into his words, “but they didn’t say you can’t be healed. Otherwise, why would they suggest physical therapy? If you have the will, I’m sure you can get back to normal one day, even though it will take some time.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk let out a bitter, mocking laugh. “You really think the doctors are telling the truth? They just wanted to give me false hope—”

         “It’s not false,” Kim Dokja interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “It can only be real if you believe in it. You’re feeling this desperate because the person you loved left you. But don’t blame the doctors, don’t blame your legs, and don’t blame the accident either. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being weak.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes darkened, but Kim Dokja pressed on, “Yes, you’re disappointed, but what about the people who truly care about you? Your sister? Instead of appreciating their love, you’ve chosen to focus on the one person who abandoned you. If you need to vent your anger, direct it at the one who left, not at the people who genuinely care about you.” 

         Kim Dokja's breath caught in his throat. Who was he to speak so bluntly to Yoo Joonghyuk? He was just a passerby, someone who shouldn’t have imposed his thoughts on a person like Yoo Joonghyuk. How dare he—

         But he couldn’t hold back. “I’m leaving.” Kim Dokja reached into his pocket and pulled out his name card, placing it gently on the side table next to Yoo Joonghyuk’s bed. “I know I’m just a stranger to you. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Just please, don’t let all my effort to save you be for nothing.”

         With that, Kim Dokja turned and walked away, the echo of his footsteps a stark contrast to the heavy silence that followed. Yoo Joonghyuk lay there, stunned and alone, the weight of Kim Dokja’s words lingering in the room long after he had gone.

         Kim Dokja returned to his routine, waking up early, heading to work, and going through the motions of his day—lunch, dinner, home, and sleep. He did try to forget about Yoo Joonghyuk, but fate never forgets. 

         A month after their last encounter, Yoo Joonghyuk called him unexpectedly, asking for a meeting. Kim Dokja was taken aback, confused by the sudden request. He had assumed Yoo Joonghyuk would forget about him, never expecting the man to reach out again. Yet, driven by curiosity—and perhaps a bit of foolishness—he agreed to meet him. 

         Kim Dokja arrived at Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. It was his first time visiting Yoo Joonghyuk’s home, and though he tried to keep his expectations in check, he couldn’t help but feel a bit foolishly eager.

         The apartment, however, was far from what he imagined. It was stark and minimalist, with furniture in shades of black, white, and the occasional grey. The lack of colour spoke volumes about Yoo Joonghyuk’s personality—calm, controlled, and perhaps a bit sombre. It was a sharp contrast to Kim Dokja’s own preference for bright, lively hues.

         But the real shock came when he saw Yoo Joonghyuk seated in a wheelchair. The sight made Kim Dokja’s breath hitch. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t offer any explanations, nor did he dwell on the obvious. Instead, he simply asked Kim Dokja to sit and then, without any preamble, handed him a contract—one that Yoo Joonghyuk had written and signed himself.

         Kim Dokja stared at the document in disbelief. 

         A contract? Of all the things he had imagined, this was not one of them.

         What was the contract for?

         “I want you to replace Lee Seolhwa.”

         Kim Dokja was speechless, struggling to process the meaning behind those words. Replace Lee Seolhwa? What exactly did Yoo Joonghyuk mean by that? Did he want Kim Dokja to—

         “Yes. I want you to be my lover.”

         It felt like lightning had struck him. Kim Dokja was utterly blindsided. He had harboured a crush on Yoo Joonghyuk years ago, a quiet, distant admiration that had once fueled his fantasies. But never had he imagined it would come to this. The idea of becoming someone’s replacement, especially for a person Yoo Joonghyuk had deeply cared about, was both shocking and insulting. Kim Dokja wasn’t someone who could be bought or used to fill a void left by someone else. Even if Yoo Joonghyuk was willing to pay him—

         “One hundred million won. That’s my offer,” Yoo Joonghyuk added, as if reading his thoughts.

         Again, Kim Dokja was stunned. That much money? Frankly, he had never seen such a large sum in his life. His world had always been filled with debts and financial struggles, so the idea of having that kind of money felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

         He hesitated, his mind reeling as he tried to make sense of the proposal. “What do I need to do?” he asked cautiously, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. “As Lee Seolhwa’s replacement—”

         “Do exactly what she always did for me,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off, his tone matter-of-fact. “Since I’m crippled for now, you’ll need to take better care of me. Help me bathe, prepare my meals, send me to work, pick me up, everything.”

         Kim Dokja felt his heart sink further with each word. But before he could fully grasp what Yoo Joonghyuk was asking of him, he pushed the question that had been gnawing at him to the forefront. “Does it include—”

         “Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted again, his voice cold and direct. “Have sex with me when I want it.”

         Kim Dokja fell silent, his mind racing. It was an outrageous offer, completely unexpected and baffling. “But… Why me?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze was steady, almost accusatory. “You asked for it.”

         Kim Dokja blinked in confusion. “What? When—”

         “When you told me not to waste your effort in saving my life. Then I’ll hold you responsible for every word you say.”

         Kim Dokja was certain now that not only had Yoo Joonghyuk's legs been injured in the accident, but perhaps his head as well. How else could he twist Kim Dokja’s words into something so absurd? It was ludicrous, unbelievable.

         He wanted to refuse, to walk away from this bizarre situation. “I refuse,” he said firmly. He needed money, yes, but his dignity wouldn’t let him—

         “One hundred million won,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in, his voice unwavering. “That must be enough to buy your dream, right? I only need you for one year. The doctors said that if I’m diligent, my legs can regain their normal function in that time. That’s all.”

         Kim Dokja stared at him, torn between the sheer absurdity of the offer and the undeniable temptation of the money. The offer dangled before him like a lifeline, but it was wrapped in chains that could drag him down into something far darker than he ever imagined.

         “You’re the one who offered me help. This is how you can help me.”

         In that moment, Kim Dokja could almost sense that the word ‘please’ was on the verge of slipping from Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips, though it was likely just his imagination. The sum Yoo Joonghyuk was offering—one hundred million won—was undeniably a fortune he could only dream of earning, even if he worked tirelessly for the rest of his life. 

         He was not naive. He knew well that this offer came with strings attached. Yet, the prospect of such a large amount of money for just one year’s commitment tempted him deeply. Perhaps it was a chance to secure his financial future. After all, he could view it simply as an additional job, taking care of a patient. It seemed, in some twisted way, like a fair trade-off.

         “I still have a dream,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “Don’t you have one, too?”

         Kim Dokja’s gaze lingered on Yoo Joonghyuk. The man was right. He did have dreams—with that money, he might be able to fulfil his dreams of owning his own company, escaping the drudgery of corporate life that slowly turned him into a zombie. But it was not his ultimate dream—

         “One hundred million isn’t enough?”

         The truth was, one hundred million was indeed a staggering amount. It was more than he had ever imagined. Kim Dokja struggled to find the words, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s cold, unblinking stare seemed to pierce through him. In that chilling moment, Yoo Joonghyuk wheeled to him, raised his hand and pinched Kim Dokja’s chin, examining him with a predatory look.

         After a pause, he spoke in a tone that was both menacing and earnest: “You can indeed do something for me. Help me get my dream back.”

         “What’s your dream?” Kim Dokja asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

         “To get Lee Seolhwa to return to me.” 

         What?

         It was odd if he thought about it again. Since the very beginning, he should’ve known Yoo Joonghyuk would never love him. The breakup was so tragic for Yoo Joonghyuk that it almost trampled on his former deep affection. This was too much of a shock. He was a man with a strong sense of self-esteem. Perhaps, Yoo Joonghyuk just didn’t want to lose hope, but after facing one month of truth Lee Seolhwa had chosen to abandon him, he just didn’t know what to do anymore. He wanted to keep searching for her, but he probably did not want others to think that he would be devastated if he lost her. So, Yoo Joonghyuk bought him as a cover, just like a beast licking its wounds alone, raising dense spikes, desperately protecting its last bit of dignity in desperation.

         What about his own dream? 

         Kim Dokja had one, too— the dream of finding someone to love and come home to. 

         Could one hundred million won buy that dream? He stared at Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, feeling the weight of his decision. Kim Dokja had never been particularly wise; he had made many foolish choices in his life and was acutely aware that he was on the brink of making another. One hundred million won might never be enough to secure a lifelong partner, someone to love and grow old with. But perhaps it could offer him a chance— a chance to get to know Yoo Joonghyuk, to be close to him, to care for him and shower him with the affection the man needed…

         They both needed— for they both lost it.

         Kim Dokja picked up the pen and signed the contract. The terms were clear: one year, during which Yoo Joonghyuk would provide him with the money, and in return, Kim Dokja would fulfil every request Yoo Joonghyuk made.

         After the year was over, if Yoo Joonghyuk still wanted him, they could discuss another contract. But Kim Dokja understood that any extension would not be born of affection. It would simply be because Yoo Joonghyuk had not yet found Lee Seolhwa.

         Three years.

         Kim Dokja woke up with tears soaking his pillow. The familiar ache in his chest greeted him like an old friend, a constant reminder of the loneliness that had become his nightly companion. It wasn’t the first time he went to bed alone, feeling the chill of the night press in around him. In his dreams, he had relived the moment he first met Yoo Joonghyuk—it felt so vivid, like it had happened only yesterday. But the reality was far different. Three years had passed since then, three long years of living alongside Yoo Joonghyuk, with their contract renewed twice, each renewal marking another year of Yoo Joonghyuk’s failure to find Lee Seolhwa.

         For three years, Kim Dokja had built his life around Yoo Joonghyuk. He had become everything the man needed: assistant, caregiver, housekeeper, and even... a personal prostitute. It wasn’t something he minded or complained about—it had been his choice, after all. In the beginning, it was painfully awkward. Moving his belongings into Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment had felt surreal, as he gradually arranged his things around the space, making it feel like home. From the start, Yoo Joonghyuk had insisted they share the same room, adding another layer to the complex, transactional relationship they had formed.

         He remembered the first time with Yoo Joonghyuk vividly. The man had come home drunk that night, and as Kim Dokja tried to help him to bed, Yoo Joonghyuk pushed him down and took him. People often said that the first time making love should be a memory to cherish, something unforgettable. For Kim Dokja, it was unforgettable, but not in the way it was supposed to be. It was a memory etched with pain and trauma because what happened that night was far from making love.

         Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t whispered his name in the heat of the moment; instead, it was Lee Seolhwa’s name that fell from his lips with every ragged breath. The reality of their relationship was a constant reminder in Kim Dokja’s mind—it was a contract, a cold, emotionless agreement that left no room for feelings. Yet, no matter how often he repeated this to himself, his heart refused to listen. It felt otherwise, but what could he do? Nothing. He could only bite his lips and endure the humiliation, swallowing the bitter truth that he was nothing more than a stand-in for someone else’s love.

         Kim Dokja lived day by day with Yoo Joonghyuk, dedicating himself entirely for a whole year to help Yoo Joonghyuk regain his physical abilities. His efforts bore fruit; the doctors were right—after a year of relentless physical therapy, Yoo Joonghyuk was able to walk and run again, as if the accident had never happened. Kim Dokja vividly remembered the moment Yoo Joonghyuk took his first step after being paralyzed for nearly two months. He tried hard not to cry in front of him, overwhelmed with relief and pride at Yoo Joonghyuk’s progress.

         But three years was a long time, and it begged the question: 

         What made Kim Dokja hold on for so long? 

         Was it simply the contract? Yes, he was an obedient person, someone who lived up to his promises. Since he had signed the contract, it was his duty to fulfil it. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the reason he stayed. 

         When the first year ended and Yoo Joonghyuk offered to renew the contract, Kim Dokja could have walked away. Yoo Joonghyuk’s condition had improved significantly by then, and his departure wouldn’t have caused any real trouble. He had the choice to leave peacefully, to reclaim his life. But instead, he chose to stay. He signed the contract for another year, and then again for a third.

         So, it was never really about the contract. 

         The truth was more complicated, more painful. 

         Kim Dokja stayed because, despite everything, he couldn’t walk away from Yoo Joonghyuk. He stayed because his heart wouldn’t let him do otherwise. 

         Still, Kim Dokja had to admit that the past three years hadn’t been entirely miserable. There were moments—precious, fleeting instances—that made him believe life was still worth living. Though Yoo Joonghyuk had contracted him to be Lee Seolhwa’s stand-in, the man had also kept his word to treat him as he would have treated her. There were mornings when Yoo Joonghyuk woke up early to make breakfast for him, or evenings when he would cook them dinner. They shared moments that felt like they belonged to real lovers—grocery shopping together, picking out outfits, and even visiting amusement parks from time to time. 

         Kim Dokja would never forget the sensation of their hands intertwined, the awkward hesitation between them when they returned home after a long day, neither willing to be the first to let go. 

         Those were the moments that made Kim Dokja believe he had made the right decision. Perhaps, in the beginning, he had been nothing more than a replacement. But in those small, everyday moments, he felt genuine. For a while, they both did. They were… real.

         So, call him foolish, but for that one reason, he wanted to stay. He wanted to give them both another chance. Memories might fade, but that didn't mean they were lost forever. One day, there was a good chance Yoo Joonghyuk would remember, and they could return to those beautiful moments.

         That was the reason Kim Dokja found himself back at the hospital, standing outside Yoo Joonghyuk’s room. Did he pray for a miracle? That Yoo Joonghyuk might wake up one morning with his lost memories restored? He did. He wished for it with all his heart.

         But—once again, fate had a way of ignoring his hopes.

         Yoo Joonghyuk still didn't remember him. And from the look in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes the moment he walked into the room, Kim Dokja could see it clearly—disgust. 

         Disgust at his very presence.

         Kim Dokja could only sigh inwardly. He hadn’t brought a fruit basket or any snacks today. Instead, he came with a new mobile phone as a gift.

         “Your old phone was damaged in the accident," he explained, holding out the device with a forced smile. “So, I got you a new one.” He tried to sound lighthearted. “I even went with an older model from a few years back, just in case you weren't used to the latest ones.” 

         His words were a poor attempt at humour, an effort to soften the tension, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression remained cold, his gaze unwavering. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk took the phone from him, muttering a half-hearted “thanks.”

         “Can I peel an apple for you?” Kim Dokja asked, his voice overly cheerful.

         Not waiting for a reply, he reached for a large apple from the fruit basket beside him, pulling out a small fruit knife from the drawer. He began peeling it with quiet concentration.

         “Mia said I had a car accident three years ago and that you were the one who took care of me,” Yoo Joonghyuk said suddenly.

         Kim Dokja's hand paused for a fraction of a second, but he quickly resumed, his expression unchanging. “Yes. You still have a scar on your leg. Have you seen it?” he asked, looking up with a smile that he hoped appeared casual.

         “I have,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied, his gaze fixed on Kim Dokja, as if trying to see through him. “I got together with you not long after Seolhwa and I broke up. Isn’t that too fast?”

         From any ordinary person’s perspective, Yoo Joonghyuk’s suspicion was entirely reasonable.

         Kim Dokja forced himself to stay composed. “We didn't get together so quickly. We were just getting to know each other at first; we hadn't confirmed anything,” he replied smoothly. Over the years, he had learned that the most convincing lies were those woven with threads of truth — mostly truth, with only a slight alteration.

         He told Yoo Joonghyuk the entire story, only adjusting the ending slightly: “... Later, as we had more contact, things just naturally fell into place…” He felt this might have been his greatest performance yet. He was conscious of every breath, every blink, careful not to give anything away.

         “Oh?” Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He leaned back against the headboard, his voice soft but pointed. “It seems love really does make people blind.”

         Kim Dokja's heart skipped a beat, but he held his smile steady, finishing his act with a calm, “It's all fate.”

         After speaking, Kim Dokja handed the freshly peeled apple to Yoo Joonghyuk. Yoo Joonghyuk's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he reached out, taking the apple and biting into it with a crisp snap. The sound reverberated through Kim Dokja’s chest, each bite feeling like it tore into his own flesh.

         “You’re being discharged tomorrow,” Kim Dokja began, his voice wavering slightly. “Do you want me to take you back to our apartment? Or… would you prefer to find somewhere else to stay?” He asked cautiously, testing the waters, uncertain of Yoo Joonghyuk's thoughts.

         Yoo Joonghyuk took another bite of the apple, a scoff escaping from the back of his throat. “Our apartment? Do I live with you?” It sounded more like, "Do you really think I still want to live with you?"

         Kim Dokja, ignoring the sarcasm, met Yoo Joonghyuk's gaze with a smile. “Yes, we've lived there for many years. We chose it together. You said you liked the feeling of looking down from a high place. You also mentioned that it’s quiet there, with inconvenient transportation, making it difficult for paparazzi and fans to snap photos in secret.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips curled slightly. “That does sound like something I would say.”

         Well, indeed it was. 

         “Don't bother. Just stay where you are. Everywhere feels like a strange environment to me anyway.”

         Kim Dokja was momentarily taken aback. He didn't recall ever telling Yoo Joonghyuk that he wanted to move out. But it didn’t matter. The moment he heard Yoo Joonghyuk’s words, Kim Dokja quickly responded, “Alright, then Lee Jihye and I will come to pick you up from the hospital tomorrow.” 

         After agreeing on the time to pick up Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja lingered, unable to muster the courage to ask about Mia's plan to fulfil Yoo Joonghyuk’s request to meet Lee Seolhwa. He was nearly certain that Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn't care about his feelings or opinions, making the question feel pointless. 

         "Is there anything else?" Yoo Joonghyuk's voice cut through the silence, impatience evident in his eyes.

         Kim Dokja hesitated, feeling a lump in his throat. The words he wanted to say stuck there, weighed down by his doubts. He knew Yoo Joonghyuk's patience was thin, and asking would likely yield nothing but dismissal. Still, he couldn’t help but cling to the tiny hope that Yoo Joonghyuk might show some consideration for him. But with Yoo Joonghyuk's expression growing colder, Kim Dokja sighed inwardly and decided against it.

         "No, nothing else," he finally said, forcing a smile. "I’ll see you tomorrow, then."

         Yoo Joonghyuk gave a curt nod, his impatience barely concealed. As Kim Dokja stood up to leave, he stole one last glance at Yoo Joonghyuk. He looked like a prince, aloof and distant, an ideal that seemed so close yet felt so unreachable. Many high-end brands sought collaborations with him for this very reason. Yoo Joonghyuk had everything—intelligence, looks, and an air of unapproachable elegance. But his words, or lack thereof, were often sharp and could easily be misunderstood. 

         Kim Dokja hesitated, then forced a smile. "No, nothing else. I’ll see you tomorrow."

         If Kim Dokja were still the person he was when he first met Yoo Joonghyuk, he might not have felt offended by such a rejection. But now, after stepping into Lee Seolhwa’s shoes and becoming Yoo Joonghyuk’s new lover, he understood that no one could easily accept waking up to such a drastic change. The beloved companion Yoo Joonghyuk once knew had become a stranger. However, he should still be grateful. The fact that Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t lashed out, scolded him, or thrown him out was, in Kim Dokja’s mind, due only to Yoo Joonghyuk’s sense of propriety and upbringing.

         “Then I'll be going,” Kim Dokja said, his expression tinged with a sense of loss as he stood up to leave.

         “Hey!”

         He had only taken two steps when Yoo Joonghyuk’s sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

         Hey? Don’t I have a name?

         Kim Dokja turned back, forcing a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes? What is it?”

         “For now, I want to sleep separately,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied bluntly.

         Kim Dokja was taken aback, needing a moment to fully process Yoo Joonghyuk’s words. In truth, Yoo Joonghyuk had nothing to worry about; he hadn't intended to share a bed with him anyway. It was clear that Yoo Joonghyuk had reverted to the time when they first met, back when they signed that contract. At the start, Yoo Joonghyuk had never shared a room with him. Instead, he would summon Kim Dokja whenever he needed him, and afterward, Kim Dokja would get dressed, take a shower, and return to his own room. He had essentially been a strange mix of a nanny, servant, and something far less dignified… a whore?

         “Alright, I'll go back and move your things to the new room,” Kim Dokja replied, maintaining a calm facade. If Yoo Joonghyuk didn't want to sleep with him, he certainly wasn't going to push for it either. Since Yoo Joonghyuk had brought it up, Kim Dokja could pretend to be understanding and accommodating.

         Yoo Joonghyuk leaned back against the headboard, murmured in agreement, and then seemed to dismiss him from his thoughts altogether.

         At one o'clock in the afternoon the next day, Kim Dokja returned to the hospital in the car driven by Lee Jihye. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t have much to pack. By the time they arrived, he had already gathered his belongings, changed into regular clothes, and was sitting on the hospital bed, absorbed in his phone. Kim Dokja guessed that he must be trying to fill in the gaps in his memory.

         When Yoo Joonghyuk saw them enter, he stood up, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. He gave Lee Jihye a nod, raising his chin slightly, and said, “That's all, let's go.” 

         He didn't even spare Kim Dokja a glance.

         It felt strange… and a bit heartbreaking. How could Yoo Joonghyuk remember Lee Jihye, his assistant, and not him—the person who had been his companion for three years?

         Yoo Joonghyuk strode out of the room, and Kim Dokja hurried after him, calling out, “Have you had lunch?” Yoo Joonghyuk, with his long legs and quick pace, moved briskly, making it hard for Kim Dokja to keep up. 

         “I ate,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied, not bothering to turn around or slow his stride.

         His tall, upright figure seemed to move further away with each step. Kim Dokja chased after him for a few moments before finally giving up and stopping in his tracks, a wistful smile forming on his lips. It was a harsh truth… There are always some people you can never catch up with, no matter how hard you try.

         “Ahjussi, are you okay?” Lee Jihye asked, noticing that he had stopped moving, her voice tinged with concern.

         “It's okay.” Kim Dokja managed a smile. “Let's go. Your Master doesn't know where we parked the car.”

         Lee Jihye nodded, but there was a pause, as if she were gathering her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Master will remember eventually, don't worry too much.”

         Even Lee Jihye had noticed Yoo Joonghyuk’s indifference and was trying to comfort him. 

         When they returned to Yoo Joonghyuk’s apartment, Yoo Joonghyuk was the first to step out of the car. He hesitated momentarily as he approached the fingerprint lock on the door, then pressed his finger against it and walked inside without waiting for Kim Dokja. Lee Jihye handed over the bags at the doorstep and bid Kim Dokja farewell.

         “Then I'm leaving,” she said.

         Kim Dokja waved at her. “Be careful on the road.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk had always been particular about his privacy, so Lee Jihye and others were accustomed to passing by without entering the house. After Lee Jihye left, Kim Dokja picked up Yoo Joonghyuk’s bags and walked to the door, pausing for a moment before gripping the handle. A soft electronic chime sounded, and the door unlocked. As he stepped inside, preparing to change his shoes, Yoo Joonghyuk's voice cut through the quiet.

         “What is this?”

         Kim Dokja looked up to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in front of the living room wall, his brow furrowed as he stared at a large painting. Setting the bags down, Kim Dokja slipped on his slippers and walked over to join him. His eyes followed Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze to the photo on the wall — a candid shot of them together, smiling, framed elegantly. 

         “This is us,” Kim Dokja said, dropping the words carefully, knowing they might sting. “You’re the one who asked to have it made and hung here.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened, his gaze shifting between the image and Kim Dokja, clearly struggling to connect the pieces of a past that now seemed foreign to him.

         If Yoo Joonghyuk was shocked to see this, then he would be more— 

         “I want to be alone,” Yoo Joonghyuk said abruptly. 

         Kim Dokja sighed inwardly, resigning himself to the familiar sting of rejection. He knew better than to expect anything different.  It was clear Yoo Joonghyuk had no desire to be close to him, especially not in the same room. 

         “I’ll put your things in that room. If you need anything, just call me,” Kim Dokja said softly, turning on his heel to leave. He didn’t wait for a response; he knew Yoo Joonghyuk’s silence would likely be his only answer.

         Two weeks had passed since Yoo Joonghyuk had returned home. Kim Dokja tried his best to live his life as normally as he could, though he often found himself questioning what ‘normal’ really meant now. He watched Yoo Joonghyuk in moments of quiet daze, shutting himself off from everything else, but one thing remained clear: Yoo Joonghyuk was making every effort to ignore his presence. Their interactions were minimal, limited to brief exchanges over breakfast and dinner. There were no lunches together; they both had to return to their jobs. Kim Dokja was busy running his rapidly growing company, which demanded his daily attention.

         He wondered if Yoo Joonghyuk remembered how things began between them. Even if he did, it likely wouldn’t matter to him now. Yoo Joonghyuk had given Kim Dokja his first hundred million won, a gesture that allowed him to establish his company. It had been a modest start, but through Kim Dokja's wit, strategy, and a team he could trust, the ‘Kim Dokja Company’ soon blossomed into a well-known enterprise. Within a year, he had been able to return the money to Yoo Joonghyuk.

         Kim Dokja didn’t deny that Yoo Joonghyuk had played a significant role in the company’s success. Their relationship might have begun with a simple contract, but Yoo Joonghyuk had indeed put in effort. Just as Kim Dokja had patiently supported Yoo Joonghyuk in regaining his health, Yoo Joonghyuk had helped promote the company. This mutual support was one of the reasons the ‘Kim Dokja Company’ had grown so quickly.

         Kim Dokja didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He had intended to return the money when their contract expired, but when the time came, Yoo Joonghyuk had refused to take it back. Instead of accepting the repayment, Yoo Joonghyuk offered him a new contract—an extension of their ‘relationship’. Kim Dokja didn’t understand why at first, but he eventually guessed it might be because Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t yet gotten what he wanted. He remembered that Yoo Joonghyuk had asked him to bring Lee Seolhwa back to him, and by then, she had not returned. Perhaps Yoo Joonghyuk still needed him as a stand-in, which was why he kept extending the contract—year after year.

         Until—

         “I have an appointment.”

         Kim Dokja snapped back to reality at the sound of Yoo Joonghyuk's voice breaking the silence over dinner. He paused mid-chew, his gaze shifting to the other man. “Okay, should I—”

         “I want you to come with me. 7 p.m. at B Restaurant.”

         That’s… rare. “May I ask what the occasion is?”

         “You'll know," Yoo Joonghyuk replied, his tone indifferent. “I'm going to meet Mia.”

         But then— “Do you need me for a reason?”

         “Can you just follow? Or do you have somewhere else to be?”

         Kim Dokja fell silent, sensing the impatience creeping into Yoo Joonghyuk's voice. “I understand. I'll be there.”

         That evening, an inexplicable restlessness gnawed at Kim Dokja. It was supposed to be just another ordinary dinner, like the ones they occasionally had with Mia in the past, so why did he have this unsettling feeling? It was as if something unexpected—and unpleasant—was looming ahead.

         Despite his unease, he dressed his best and accompanied Yoo Joonghyuk to the restaurant. They had reserved a table, and when they arrived, Mia had not yet shown up. Kim Dokja decided to order some appetisers while they waited. 

         Throughout the evening, there was hardly any conversation between them. Since they had left the apartment, Yoo Joonghyuk had been silent, offering only brief replies when spoken to. Kim Dokja didn’t dwell on it too much; ever since Yoo Joonghyuk had lost his memory, he had grown accustomed to this cold, distant treatment.

         Fifteen minutes later, Kim Dokja sensed someone approaching. He thought, finally, Mia had—

         Yes. It was Mia, but she wasn’t alone.

         Walking beside her was… 

         Lee Seolhwa.

         Mia had found her.

TO BE CONTINUED~

Chapter Text

         Kim Dokja felt his heart stop at that very moment. His face turned pale, breath catching in his throat. This couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of twisted dream. But there she was—Lee Seolhwa—walking toward them with a calm, assured smile.

         Of all the time— why now?

         His hands clenched tightly under the table, the edge of his nails digging painfully into his palms. Was this really happening? The very person Yoo Joonghyuk had always longed for… now standing here, about to shatter whatever fragile peace Kim Dokja had built in these past years. He glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk, desperate to find any hint that this wasn’t the end, that somehow things could go back to the way they were.

         But when he saw the look on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, his chest tightened painfully. The expression Yoo Joonghyuk wore was one he had never shown to Kim Dokja—pure, unguarded adoration. The way his eyes softened, the way his lips almost trembled with emotion… It was like watching a reunion from some tragic love story, like witnessing the return of a lover thought lost forever.

         Jealousy flared hot and fierce in Kim Dokja’s chest, burning away his hope and igniting something ugly and raw. How could Yoo Joonghyuk look at her like that? As if she were the only person who mattered in the world? As if the three years they had shared meant nothing?

         Had Yoo Joonghyuk forgotten that she abandoned him? That she left without a word, without a trace, while he was still bleeding, while he was still broken? Had he forgotten who was there beside him when he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet? Who had stayed up countless nights, watching over him, caring for him, offering him every bit of himself, even when it meant nothing but pain in return?

         Kim Dokja's thoughts were a chaotic swirl of disbelief and resentment. His hands trembled slightly, his nails still biting into his palms, drawing faint lines of red. Yoo Joonghyuk's expression was soft, almost tender, as if every ounce of pain, every sleepless night, every whispered confession meant nothing in the face of her return.

         He should have known this would happen… that Lee Seolhwa was everything that Yoo Joonghyuk ever wanted, and that Kim Dokja’s presence had been nothing more than a placeholder. 

         Did none of it matter? Did Yoo Joonghyuk even remember what it had cost him—what it had cost both of them? But looking at Yoo Joonghyuk now, it was as if all those memories were suddenly irrelevant, cast aside like an old, worn-out story. Kim Dokja’s chest ached with the sharp sting of betrayal, and he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay silent, to keep the bitterness from spilling out.

         He had thought he was prepared for this—he had told himself he would be fine, that he would endure whatever came. But now, faced with the reality of it, the gaping chasm between him and Yoo Joonghyuk felt impossibly wide.

         It felt like he was losing everything, and he couldn’t even breathe.

         As Kim Dokja sat there, his emotions simmering just below the surface, Mia finally broke the silence, sensing the tension hanging in the air. “Seolhwa-unnie has come back. It's been such a long time,” she said, her voice cheerful, trying to ease the discomfort that had settled around them. “I’m so glad we could finally arrange this meeting.”

         Lee Seolhwa smiled gently, her gaze flicking between Mia and Yoo Joonghyuk. “Yes, it has been,” she replied, her voice soft and almost hesitant. “I wasn’t sure… if this was the right time.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes never left her. “It is,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m glad you’re here.”

         Kim Dokja felt his chest tighten at those words. He had heard Yoo Joonghyuk speak with that same determination before—but never about him. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

         “So,” Kim Dokja started, his voice betraying none of the turmoil inside, “What brings you back, Seolhwa-ssi?”

         Lee Seolhwa turned to him, surprised at his directness. “I— I wanted to see how everyone was doing,” she said slowly, her eyes searching for Kim Dokja for a moment, as if trying to gauge his reaction. “I’ve been away for a long time, and I thought it was time to reconnect. I’m sorry, I came unannounced—”

         “Reconnect?” Kim Dokja repeated, his smile thin and sharp. “I didn’t know you were the type to look back once you decided to leave.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s brow furrowed at Kim Dokja's tone. “Kim Dokja,” he warned, his voice low.

         Kim Dokja turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing at Yoo Joonghyuk. “What?” He asked, his tone deceptively calm. “I'm just curious. It’s not every day that someone decides to return after abandoning everything behind.”

         Lee Seolhwa flinched at his words, but Yoo Joonghyuk's gaze turned cold. “That’s enough, Kim Dokja,” he said, more forcefully this time. “We are not here to discuss the past.”

         “But aren’t we?” Kim Dokja shot back, his voice rising despite himself. “Isn't that why you asked me to come? To sit here and watch this—this… reunion?” His eyes rolled up as he emphasised the last word. Then they flicked back to Lee Seolhwa, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “I’m sorry if my presence is making things awkward.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you can't behave—”

         “Behave?” Kim Dokja interrupted, a sharp laugh escaping his lips. He really felt like a cornered cat. “I'm not the one acting like nothing happened, like the past three years didn’t exist.”

         Mia, sensing the tension escalating, quickly interjected. “Hey, let's all calm down, okay? This isn’t the place for—”

         “No,” Kim Dokja cut her off, his voice growing colder. “Maybe it is the place. Maybe it’s the perfect place to discuss why I’m even here.” He turned his gaze back to Yoo Joonghyuk, a challenge in his eyes. “Why did you bring me, Yoo Joonghyuk? To watch you fall back into her arms?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression hardened. “You’re here because I wanted you to be here,” he replied, his voice tense. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

         Kim Dokja let out a bitter laugh. “You’re right. It doesn’t need to be difficult. It’s clear enough.”

         Lee Seolhwa, who had been silent, finally spoke up, her voice wavering slightly. “Dokja-ssi… I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I just wanted to…”

         “To what?” Kim Dokja snapped, unable to hold back his anger any longer. “To see if Yoo Joonghyuk was still waiting for you? To check if he’s still pining for you after all this time?”

         “Stop it,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled, his patience wearing thin. “That’s enough.”

         Kim Dokja stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “No, Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. Not until you decide what it is you really want.” He looked directly into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, his voice breaking just slightly. “And maybe… maybe it was never me.”

         The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging thick in the air.

         Kim Dokja felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The words hung between them like a death sentence, cold and final. He knew he should have expected it—should have prepared himself for this exact response—but hearing it from Yoo Joonghyuk, hearing the coldness in his voice, made it feel like a knife twisting in his chest.

         “Then... I’m glad if you knew your answer.”

         His breath caught in his throat. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to remain composed. But the sharp, unrelenting ache in his heart refused to be ignored. How could Yoo Joonghyuk say that so easily, so indifferently, after everything they had been through?

         Kim Dokja swallowed, trying to push down the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I see,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely a whisper. “I guess… that’s clear enough.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s face remained impassive, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, hesitation—but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

         Kim Dokja’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He had stood by Yoo Joonghyuk for years, had stayed through all the pain, the confusion, the waiting. And now, it was as if none of it mattered, as if he was nothing more than an inconvenience in Yoo Joonghyuk’s carefully curated life. He forced a smile, brittle and sharp. “Well, if that's the case, there’s no point in me staying here any longer, is there?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t respond. He just sat there, silent, watching him with that same impassive look.

         Kim Dokja’s heart twisted painfully. He could feel his jealousy flaring, mingling with anger and hurt. “You know,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts, “I thought after three years, you have at least some feelings left for me even if you completely lost your memory. I thought— maybe— after—”

         He stopped himself, realising how pathetic he sounded. This wasn’t what he wanted—to beg, to plead for something that was never his in the first place.

         Lee Seolhwa shifted awkwardly beside them, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, but Kim Dokja didn’t care. Let her see. Let her understand just how much he had sacrificed.

         “Feelings? You talk about the feelings between us?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s unexpected chuckle was cold, almost mocking. Kim Dokja felt a surge of nausea. “Do you really think we’re real? Kim Dokja, I have to give you credit. I must admit that I almost got deceived by your smooth acting.”

         “What are you talking about?” Kim Dokja's voice was barely audible, a hollow echo in his own ears. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but the ground seemed to be crumbling beneath his feet.

         Yoo Joonghyuk tossed the unfolded contract onto the table, his expression filled with contempt. “Should I clap for your performance, Kim Dokja? You think you can fool me? I really thought you had genuine feelings for me, and it did make me feel guilty for forgetting about you completely. But now I know the very reason why I cannot remember you at all.”

         “Because you’re simply not important in my life,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his tone sharp and cutting. “In fact, you’re not supposed to be in my life from the beginning.”

         Kim Dokja’s face paled, the blood draining from his cheeks as Yoo Joonghyuk's words pierced through him like shards of ice. Each sentence felt like a fresh blow, striking at his core with a cruelty he hadn't imagined was possible. His fingers trembled as he reached for the contract on the table, staring at it with disbelief. How did Yoo Joonghyuk find it? How long had he known? He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk leaned closer, his gaze unforgiving. “It was surprising, though. I never thought you were this cheap.”

         Cheap? The word struck like a slap. 

         “One hundred million won? For your love?” Yoo Joonghyuk's lips curled into a bitter smile. “You’re disgusting.”

         Disgusting. The word echoed in Kim Dokja’s mind, twisting deeper into the wound. This was worse than any pain he had imagined. He had expected anger, even resentment, but this… this was a complete dismissal, a total rejection of everything they had shared.

         Kim Dokja clenched his fists, trying to hold back the tremor in his voice. “No… No, Yoo Joonghyuk, it wasn’t like that. I— we—”

         “Don’t even bother,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off, his voice like ice. “You think I didn’t figure out your game? Your little charade? I was foolish enough to let you into my life, to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something real between us. It turns out it was all for money. It’s just a game for you, isn’t it? You just wanted money, easy money, I just realised how low you are now.”

         Kim Dokja's heart ached with every word. “It wasn't a game,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I… I never meant to deceive you. I—”

         “Enough,” Yoo Joonghyuk snapped, his eyes flashing with cold fury. “I don’t care about your excuses anymore. You’re just a mistake, Kim Dokja. A mistake I intend to correct.”

         Kim Dokja felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if his heart was being ripped apart. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the humiliation and hurt were overwhelming. He wanted to scream, to fight back, to tell Yoo Joonghyuk that he was wrong—that he did care, that he wasn’t a liar, that every moment they’d spent together was real to him. 

         But all he could do was stand there, his body trembling, as Yoo Joonghyuk's words echoed in his mind.

         Cheap. Unimportant. A mistake. 

         He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was drowning, lost in a storm of pain and betrayal. 

         “If you still have a conscience, then you should know what to do now,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his tone unwavering, as if every word was a carefully aimed bullet. “Take your things and leave as soon as possible. I’ll give you time to clear everything from my home. I just don’t want to see you anymore in my life.”

         Kim Dokja's vision blurred. His hands trembled, his fingers digging into his palms to stop himself from shaking. Was this really happening? Was Yoo Joonghyuk really—

         “Oppa,” Mia finally interjected, “please, this is not—”

         “Shut up, Mia. It’s my final decision.”

         The words cut like ice. Kim Dokja’s breath hitched, his chest aching as he stared at Yoo Joonghyuk, silently pleading for something—anything—that would soften the blow. But there was no mercy in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, only a cold resolve that froze Kim Dokja to the core. 

         “Joonghyuk-ssi, please, listen to what—” Lee Seolhwa tried to speak up, her voice gentle, as if she were trying to stitch the wounds that had been ripped open in front of them. But Yoo Joonghyuk’s face remained hard, his gaze unwavering.

         “I’m sorry, Seolhwa-ya, I have wronged you,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his tone filled with regret but also a strange, steely determination. “I should’ve tried harder to search for you. Instead, I let this con man deceive me for three years and didn’t search for you. I’m really sorry.”

         Kim Dokja’s heart felt like it was shattering into pieces, each shard cutting deeper than the last. He wanted to scream, to tell Yoo Joonghyuk that it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t a con man, that everything he had done was out of love… But his voice was trapped in his throat, his words strangled by the weight of his own despair.

         “But, Joonghyuk—” Lee Seolhwa started again, her expression pained, but Yoo Joonghyuk cut her off sharply.

         “Please say no more. This is why I invited all of you here. I just want to clear my life from a shameless parasite.”

         Parasite. The word slammed into Kim Dokja like a hammer, knocking the air out of his lungs. He felt his knees weaken, his legs threatening to give way under the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk's contempt. A parasite—an unwanted, unloved, despised thing. That’s what Yoo Joonghyuk saw him as.

         Kim Dokja's lips parted, but no sound came out. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest, leaving a hollow, empty space where hope had once been. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to show weakness in front of them. 

         He wanted to fight back, to scream, to tell Yoo Joonghyuk how much those words hurt, how unfair this was, how wrong he was. But all he could do was stand there, numb and frozen, as Yoo Joonghyuk’s words echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until they drowned out everything else.

         Parasite. 

         Parasite. 

         Parasite.

         It was over. He had lost. And Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t want him anymore.

* * *

         Kim Dokja could not recall how he managed to leave the restaurant. He didn't remember Mia's face, didn’t notice the look on Lee Seolhwa’s face, or hear if anyone called after him as he stumbled out. He didn't even know how he got ‘home’. Perhaps his feet had carried him there out of instinct, his mind too numb to register the streets he walked. The world outside seemed distant, and time felt distorted, stretching into an endless loop of pain and confusion. He had no sense of how long he had spent gathering his things; he only knew he had to move. Every second that ticked by felt like another nail in the coffin of his hopes, and he was desperate to finish this and escape before he crumbled entirely.

         His hands trembled as he folded each piece of clothing with deliberate care, trying to ignore the ache that twisted inside him. Every item he touched brought with it a flood of memories—quiet mornings, shared meals, the fleeting moments of warmth that had somehow bloomed in the cold atmosphere of their ‘relationship.’ He wanted to shut it all out, to keep his mind blank, but the memories forced their way in, piercing his heart with every reminder of what he was losing. 

         Three years. 

         Three years of his life reduced to this—stuffing his belongings into a suitcase, trying to erase himself from a place he had dared to think of as home. Each movement felt like a betrayal to those memories, as if by packing up, he was acknowledging that they never meant anything at all. The hurt of it was almost too much to bear, but he forced himself to keep going, to keep moving, because stopping meant breaking, and he wasn’t sure if he could piece himself back together again. 

         Then, the door clicked open, and the soft sound of footsteps followed. 

         Kim Dokja didn’t have to look up; he knew exactly who it was. He didn’t pause, didn’t stop to catch his breath or dry his eyes. Instead, he kept his hands busy, mechanically placing the last of his clothes into the suitcase. His fingers fumbled slightly, but he didn’t let himself falter.

         “Make sure you leave nothing behind.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was as cold and indifferent as ever, a sharp contrast to the raging storm inside Kim Dokja. Every word felt like a knife, driving deeper into the already festering wound. He didn’t respond, couldn’t trust his voice not to break if he tried to speak. Instead, he nodded silently, still not looking up. His eyes were fixed on the task at hand, trying to ignore the overwhelming presence behind him.

         Kim Dokja reached for the last item on the shelf—a small trinket, something insignificant and yet unbearably precious. He paused for just a moment, his heart squeezing painfully, before tucking it away with the rest. It was almost poetic, he thought bitterly, how something so small could hold so much weight. 

         “Is that everything?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice cut through the silence again, sharper this time, as if he was impatient for Kim Dokja to be gone, to erase the last traces of his existence from the apartment.

         Kim Dokja finally straightened, closing his suitcase with a soft click. He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat, and nodded. “Yes. It’s everything.” His voice was barely above a whisper, hollow and lifeless.

         “Good,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied, the finality in his tone unmistakable. “Then leave. And remember what I said—don’t ever come back.”

         Kim Dokja couldn’t bring himself to respond. He merely lifted his suitcase, the weight of it nothing compared to the heaviness in his chest, and began walking toward the door. Each step felt like it might be his last, as if his legs would give out beneath the crushing sorrow. He paused just before crossing the threshold, his heart wrenching in agony, urging him to turn back, to speak, to do something—anything—that might change this cruel, unforgiving reality. But the silence between them was a chasm too wide, too cold, and too daunting to cross.

         Yet, in his desperation, he couldn’t leave without asking, without clinging to one last shred of hope. His voice trembled as he whispered, “What if… what if one day you remember me? Will you—”

         “You still dare to ask?” Yoo Joonghyuk's voice was ice, each word slicing through the fragile thread of hope Kim Dokja clung to. “I swear, I will never remember you. You’re a mistake I wanted to forget. So leave, and don’t you ever dare to come back into my life.”

         Kim Dokja’s breath hitched, panic and desperation clawing at his chest. “But it’s been three years! Three years, Yoo Joonghyuk. Maybe you don’t remember it now, but we’ve been together for three years, and we—we even had—”

         He faltered, the words catching in his throat like shards of glass. His voice trembled, raw and pleading, as if hoping for some flicker of recognition, some sign that Yoo Joonghyuk might recall even a fragment of what they once shared. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, each beat a painful reminder of the impending loss, of everything slipping through his fingers.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression, however, remained impassive, his eyes as cold as steel. There was no flicker, no warmth, no sign that he cared or even believed him. “And what? What did we have, Kim Dokja? Because from where I stand, we had nothing but a lie.”

         Kim Dokja’s breath caught again, a suffocating pressure building in his chest. “It wasn’t a lie— it wasn’t— I love you—”

         “Love me?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s laugh was harsh, humourless. “You think I would believe that after everything? After finding out what you’ve done?”

         A wave of anguish tore through Kim Dokja. “I didn’t do it for the money—I never wanted it. I just—”

         “Just what?” Yoo Joonghyuk snapped. “Just wanted to trick me? Just wanted to play your little game? If you cared at all, you would have told me the truth from the start. But no, you just wanted to take advantage of me.”

         Kim Dokja felt the sting of those words like a blade twisting in his heart. “It wasn’t like that—”

         “Enough, Kim Dokja!” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice lashed out like a whip, the force of his words cutting through the air and striking him silent. “If you have even an ounce of dignity left, just walk away. That contract is proof enough that you only started this relationship for money.”

         Kim Dokja’s voice trembled as he tried to defend himself. “But it was you who offered it in the first place! I never—”

         “If you never intended it, why did you take the money? Why did you agree?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes bore into him, merciless and cold.

         Because I wanted to be with you. The words were trapped in Kim Dokja’s throat, too painful to utter.

         “I’ve had enough of you,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued harshly. “Once you’re gone, I’ll ask Seolhwa to come back and live with me.”

         The ground seemed to crumble beneath Kim Dokja’s feet. What? His heart plummeted, a sickening wave of disbelief and pain washing over him.

         “So,” Yoo Joonghyuk's voice grew even colder, as if chiselled from ice, “you’d better forget any thought of coming back. Even if my memories return, I’m certain they’re nothing but bad ones—memories that should never have existed. Memories I need to erase.”

         The words struck Kim Dokja like a death sentence. Any hope he had left shattered, leaving only an unbearable emptiness in its wake. With nothing left to say, nothing left to hold onto, he stepped out of the door, feeling as though he was leaving a part of himself behind—lost forever to a man who had vowed to forget he ever existed.

         This was his fate. 

         He had been erased from Yoo Joonghyuk’s life, but the memories, the pain, would stay with him forever. 

         This was his fate.

* * *

         When Kim Dokja finally walked away, an unsettling weight settled in Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart, one he refused to acknowledge at first. It felt like he was losing something that had once been so vital to his life, but he quickly dismissed the thought, forcing himself to believe that it was nothing more than a fleeting illusion—a trick of his mind, a mere reflex. He tried to suppress the ache that gnawed at him as he watched the back of the man he was supposed to hate fade into the crowd. No matter how many times he repeated the mantra in his head—that this was the deceiver who had lured him into an artificial bond—he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling gnawing at his core.

         But why was he so angry? 

         He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? Relieved that the relationship had been a sham, that it wasn’t what he had thought. He should have felt free, knowing that he could now return to his first love, Lee Seolhwa, and start over. She had agreed to come back, after all, and that should have meant whatever had happened between them could be left in the past. Surely, there had to be a reason for her to leave him back then, and part of him wanted to believe it wasn’t entirely her fault.

         No—he needed it to be Kim Dokja’s fault. 

         This—this painful, bitter accident—was a blessing in disguise, exposing the true face of Kim Dokja. It made everything clear, or at least, that's what Yoo Joonghyuk kept telling himself.

         This was his fate.

         He was meant to return to Seolhwa, to reclaim what he had lost, and this chapter with Kim Dokja was nothing more than a cruel detour. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to cling to that narrative, the ache lingered—an unshakable reminder that perhaps the truth wasn’t so simple.

         This was his fate.

         Three days after Kim Dokja left, Yoo Joonghyuk asked Lee Seolhwa to move in with him. She hesitated, guilt clouding her eyes.

         “I’m not sure it’s right,” she said softly. “After everything… it's not my place anymore.”

         But Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t let her slip away again. “I need you,” he insisted. “Especially now, after the accident. If something happens to me, you’ll be able to help.” 

         Reluctantly, she agreed. “Alright,” she whispered, her heart heavy.

         Yet, what followed surprised him more than he expected.

         One morning, Yoo Joonghyuk woke early, blending orange juice and frying a sunny side up, his hands moving as if on autopilot. He brought the breakfast to her, but the moment he placed it down, a wave of confusion hit him. Lee Seolhwa stared at the plate, a small smile tugging at her lips.

         “I… don’t eat this,” she said, her voice gentle. “You know that, right?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk blinked, momentarily stunned. “You don’t?”

         She chuckled lightly. “I’ve always had black coffee and French toast. You remember.”

         The frown deepened on his face. “I… should’ve remembered,” he murmured. Later, he tried again, making prawn porridge alongside the sunny side up, hoping it felt more natural. But when she saw it, she couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head.

         “This is odd,” she said with a soft smile. “Why prawn porridge with a sunny side up?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk stiffened, his chest tightening. “I don’t know,” he admitted, frustration simmering beneath his calm. "It just… felt right."

         She gazed at him, concern flickering in her eyes. “Yoo Joonghyuk… who were you thinking of when you made this?” 

         He couldn’t answer. The question hung in the air like a haunting echo, pulling at a memory he wasn’t ready to confront.

         One evening, as Lee Seolhwa reached for a mug from the cupboard to warm some milk before bed, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand shot out, stopping her. Without saying a word, he pulled another mug down and handed it to her. 

         Lee Seolhwa blinked, confused. “Why can’t I use this one?” she asked, glancing at the mug she had originally chosen.

         Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, his mind blank for a moment. He didn’t know why, not exactly. Something deep within him screamed that the mug was his and no one else should touch it. It was important, a gift—special. But from whom? The vague thought of Kim Dokja drifted to the surface, but he shoved it down, unable to face the truth. Instead, he muttered, “It has cracks. I meant to throw it away but never got around to it.”

         Lee Seolhwa chuckled softly, the sound gentle but tinged with amusement. “It must be from Kim Dokja, then,” she teased. “That’s why you won’t let me use it.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s face flushed, a sharp sting of embarrassment flaring into anger. “It’s not,” he snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. Without thinking, he grabbed the mug and hurled it into the trash, the clatter of shattered porcelain cutting through the silence.

         Lee Seolhwa’s smile faded, her eyes wide with shock. "Yoo Joonghyuk..." she whispered, disbelief lacing her voice. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, so rattled, so… defensive.

         But Yoo Joonghyuk stood there, staring at the broken pieces, his chest tightening. He couldn’t explain why the sudden surge of emotion had overwhelmed him, why the mere mention of Kim Dokja had provoked such a violent reaction. Yet, as the remnants of the mug lay scattered, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had been lost, along with it.

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt like he was losing his mind. Every night, when he opened his closet to grab a pair of pyjamas, his hands would instinctively reach for the ones with the sunfish pattern. There were plenty of other choices—sleek, neutral designs that better suited him—but he always ended up choosing the ridiculous sunfish print. It was absurd, completely out of character for him, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

         As he slipped the pyjamas on, a distant memory tugged at the edges of his mind. Someone had teased him about them once, laughing at how out of place they looked on him. But all Yoo Joonghyuk could recall clearly was how proud he felt wearing them, like they were more than just pyjamas—like they were special. And he hated to admit it, but he slept better when he wore them.

         Even so, his sleep was restless. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, an uneasy feeling gnawing at him. Something wasn’t right. The bed felt too empty, too cold. It was as if someone was supposed to be there, lying beside him, holding him close. That warmth, that presence—it was missing, and Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t ignore it. 

         He frowned in the darkness, the emptiness beside him growing more palpable. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t used to this feeling—this aching sense of absence.

         Come to think of it, everything about the house felt wrong. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t remember the place he once lived in looking like this. When did the walls get covered with sunny flower wallpaper in the living room? Why had the once sleek black sofa been replaced with a soft beige one? He was certain it had always been black. Yet, when he sat down, his hands instinctively reached for a wool blanket—a blanket that was supposed to be there, to wrap around him when he watched TV shows. And the person who should’ve been beside him...

         Lee Seolhwa’s soft chuckle broke his thoughts. “You seem awfully fond of this blanket. Did Kim Dokja give it to you?”

         “No,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s response came sharply, anger tightening his voice. The mere idea made him bristle. There was no way. He liked this blanket for its comfort, not because of Kim Dokja. Besides, someone like him—someone as deceitful and disgusting as Kim Dokja—would never buy something so heartwarming. Kim Dokja was only ever after one thing—money.

         Still, his mind played tricks on him, conjuring up fragmented memories. He could almost see it: someone draping the blanket over him as he sat in a wheelchair, pushing him to a nearby park for fresh air. Someone offering him a cup of warm tea with a soft smile after their walk. Someone sitting beside him on this yellow sofa, the two of them sharing the blanket, watching TV until they drifted off to sleep side by side.

         No, that couldn’t be real. There was no way that ‘someone’ was Kim Dokja, right? 

         Yoo Joonghyuk closed his eyes, the warmth of the wool blanket clutched in his hands. But no matter how much he tried to deny it, the memories—however hazy—kept pushing to the surface, haunting him with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong all along.

         But then, so what if he was wrong?

         It didn’t change the reality of that damn contract. Maybe it was true—Kim Dokja had stayed and taken care of him for those three years, but none of that erased the reason why. He was only there for the money, right? These memories—these fleeting glimpses of something warm and real—were nothing more than wicked illusions. Kim Dokja had planted them in his head, twisting reality to deceive him into believing there had been sincerity. There was no way it was real.

         There was no way Yoo Joonghyuk would ever love eating pizza while streaming, yet somehow he found himself asking Lee Seolhwa to order some the other day. He never craved soda—he’d always hated it—but recently, in the midst of a scorching afternoon, he felt the strange urge to drink a Coke. And every Sunday, without fail, he would be out jogging at dawn, running through the neighbourhood, keeping his body sharp. But this time, when he tried, something felt wrong, like a piece of him was missing. 

         As he jogged, his mind played cruel tricks. He could almost hear someone running beside him, teasing him with playful jabs—mocking his muscles, claiming Yoo Joonghyuk only did this to show off and attract more female fans. He remembered getting angry, snapping at that person, but somehow, by the end of it, they had both been laughing, racing each other home with giant ice creams in their hands, trying to see who could finish the ridiculous treat first.

         It was disturbing. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk knew these memories were fake, mere fabrications conjured up to confuse him. But why couldn’t he shake the feeling of joy? Why couldn’t he forget the laughter, the shared warmth, the fleeting happiness of those moments?

         And that person—

         His chest tightened at the thought. He tried to push it away, to bury it deep beneath the weight of reality. But no matter how hard he fought, that person lingered in his mind. 

         Kim Dokja. 

         Even if it was all a lie, why did it still feel so painfully real?

         Yoo Joonghyuk strode over to the shoe cabinet, his heart racing as he pulled out his running shoes. Without a second thought, he grabbed a garbage bag and shoved them inside, the crinkling sound echoing in the silence. He tossed the bag into the bin, a sense of finality settling over him.

         Lee Seolhwa jumped, her eyes wide with surprise. "Why would you do that?"

         He paused, confusion swirling within him. He didn’t really know why. As he stood there, he couldn’t shake the memory of Christmas Day—how happy he had been when he unwrapped those shoes. He had never expected to receive that special edition pair. At first, when he had only found red socks in the box, disappointment washed over him. It felt unfair, especially since he had gifted that person something truly meaningful, a perfectly curated collection of mythic tales.

         But then that person had pulled out another box, and everything changed. The socks had been a playful ruse, a moment of laughter shared between them.

         Now… those shoes had reached their end.

         He took a deep breath, staring at the bin as if it held the weight of his memories. They were no longer significant; they should leave, just like that person had.

         And it wasn’t just the shoes—everything had to go. 

         Everything that reminded him of Kim Dokja. 

         With determination, Yoo Joonghyuk called in a team to transform the entire place. He couldn't understand how Kim Dokja had managed to convince him to turn his home into something so unrecognisable, something he never even liked. But it had to stop here.

         "Lee Seolhwa and I share the same tastes," he thought, almost desperately. Both of them preferred muted colours over the garish palette that had somehow taken over his home. If he was serious about starting anew with her, he needed to wipe the slate clean.

         When Seolhwa confronted him, he felt a flicker of doubt. "Are you sure you want to change all this? You— you’ve lived like this for three years, and you— you were happy, Joonghyuk-ssi."

         Happy? The word felt foreign on his tongue. "No," he replied firmly, "that was all fake." He refused to listen to her hesitations.

         The very next day, a team of construction workers arrived, ready to strip away the remnants of his past. They moved out the television, the couch, the dining table and chairs—everything that bore Kim Dokja's touch. He wanted it gone, fresh and untainted.

         In the study, he ordered them to do the same. They packed up dozens of books—those must be Kim Dokja’s—into large boxes, ready to be tossed aside as if they held no value.

         But the final item, the last remnant of that life, was the painting. The stupid painting of him and Kim Dokja, frozen in a moment that felt like a lifetime ago. As the workers approached it, Yoo Joonghyuk felt a wave of anger surge through him.

         "Get rid of it," he snapped, his voice taut with emotion.

         The workers hesitated, glancing at each other. "Are you sure?"

         "Yes! Just take it down!" His voice was sharper than he intended, filled with a desperation to sever all ties to that past. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk could hardly contain his impatience, longing for the painting to be burned as soon as possible. But when the workers gently set it down, he was taken aback to find a hidden safety deposit box concealed in the wall behind it. Confusion washed over him; he had no recollection of placing it there or what secrets it might hold.

         What could the password be?

         He started with a familiar number, his own birthday, but it failed. Next, he tried Lee Seolhwa’s birthday, but that didn’t work either. Frustration mounted as he punched in dozens of combinations, each one a dead end. Just when he felt ready to give up, a number popped into his mind, almost instinctively. It felt significant, but he couldn’t place why.

         It was a date.

         But a date of what?

         He hesitated, doubt creeping in, yet he inputted the number. To his surprise, the lock clicked open. Relief washed over him, but curiosity quickly took its place. What was so important that it would unlock this box? He had to know.

         However, as Yoo Joonghyuk peered inside the safe, a wave of disappointment surged through him. The box was empty. He clenched his fists in frustration—had Kim Dokja known about it? Had he taken whatever was inside? The thought gnawed at him, deepening the ache in his chest.

         He exhaled slowly, trying to regain control, when something caught his eye. In the far corner of the box, barely visible, was a small black item. 

         — A ring box.

         Curiosity and dread intertwined as he quickly reached for it. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened the box, expecting... he didn't even know what. Yet, inside, instead of a ring, lay a note, a series of numbers.

         A phone number.

         Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the digits, his mind racing. Whose number was this? And why was it hidden here? The anxiety prickled at him, but a strange pull urged him forward. Almost on instinct, he pulled out his phone and dialled the number. As the line rang, his heart beat faster, each passing second heavy with anticipation. Then, after a few moments, a woman’s voice answered on the other end.

         “Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, finally you called! Is everything alright?” 

         Confused, he responded, “I’m sorry. Do you know me?” 

         There was a moment of silence before the voice on the other end replied, “I’m Jung Heewon. You don’t remember? Didn't you save my number before?” 

         The name rang a faint bell, but he struggled to place it. “I—I truly apologise. I had an accident and lost some of my memories.” 

         Another pause, and Yoo Joonghyuk could almost picture the shock on Jung Heewon’s face. 

         “I read about the news. I’m so sorry for what happened. Then—” she hesitated, “would you like us to meet? There are things I need you to sign.” 

         “Sign? Who are you?” he asked, his heart pounding. 

         “I’m your agent, well, your event organiser as well.” There was a slight chuckle. “I hope your incident won’t delay whatever we have planned, Joonghyuk-ssi. We only have six months to go.” 

         “What event?” 

         Silence hung in the air again. “Joonghyuk-ssi… you’re not joking, right? I thought you remembered some things, that’s why you called me. Did the accident completely erase your memories?” 

         “Not all,” he admitted, wincing at the truth. It felt like a dark cloud obscured the memories of that person. “But I really can’t remember what we’re talking about. What event are we going to have later?” Was it a grand streaming event? An international game competition? As an esports athlete, he expected something like that. 

         “Joonghyuk-ssi,” Jung Heewon sighed deeply, her voice heavy with concern. “It will be your wedding in six months.” 

         What? His eyes widened in disbelief. 

         “You’re going to marry Kim Dokja. Don’t you remember?” 

         In that instant, everything fell into place. The password—wasn’t it a date? A date that now felt ominous. It must be his wedding date. The thought of marrying Kim Dokja sent a shiver down his spine.

         Was this real? How could it be?

* * *

         Two days later, Yoo Joonghyuk sat in a small café, his fingers drumming absently on the table as he waited for Jung Heewon. Those two days had been a blur, his mind stuck in an endless loop of questions. He couldn't wrap his head around the revelation—marrying Kim Dokja? It seemed absurd, surreal, like a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

         Why would he have made that decision? If Kim Dokja was only in it for the money, why would he have agreed to something as intimate, as final, as marriage? It didn’t make sense. Not with the contract he found, the cold reality of it spelling out that their relationship was bound by financial gain.

         Unless— unless there was something more. 

         Something real between them. Something he had forgotten.

         The thought twisted painfully in his chest. His head throbbed as the confusion piled on, relentless. He reached for his coffee, sipping the lukewarm liquid as he glanced at the clock. Ten minutes past their scheduled meeting time. Where was she?

         Just as he was about to call her, the soft chime of the café’s bell rang, signalling a new arrival. Yoo Joonghyuk glanced up, his heart momentarily easing when he saw Jung Heewon step inside. Quickly, he stood and waved her over. She spotted him and made her way to the table, offering a brief smile before taking a seat across from him.

         "Sorry I’m late," she said, her voice a touch breathless as she pulled out a few folders from her bag.

         Yoo Joonghyuk eyed the folders with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "What’s this?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

         "They’re your documents," Jung Heewon replied, carefully opening one of the folders and sliding several papers toward him. "And Kim Dokja’s."

         Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the papers in front of him, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach. Jung Heewon continued, unaware of his growing tension.

         "This," she said, pointing to one of the documents, "is the venue agreement for your wedding. The payment was settled two months ago, but they have just sent the invoice to me last week. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to get it to you."

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the words on the page—wedding venue. The neat lines of text felt alien, like they were written about someone else’s life. Two months ago… they had been planning their wedding two weeks ago, and now it felt like a distant, unrecognisable past. 

         It felt unreal, impossible to grasp. Was this truly happening? Was he really about to marry that person ? How could this be? And if it was true, why had that person never said a word about it?

         No—this had to be a mistake.

         "Are you sure this isn’t some kind of mistake?" Yoo Joonghyuk finally asked, his voice low and uncertain.

         Jung Heewon’s face shifted, puzzled and slightly taken aback by the question. "A mistake? What do you mean?"

         He hesitated. There was no way he could have made this decision. That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be his choice, right? Grasping for any explanation, he ventured, "Is this wedding… Was it Kim Dokja’s plan? Not mine?"

         He swallowed hard, the question lingering between them.

         Jung Heewon looked at him in disbelief, her brow furrowing as if she couldn’t comprehend his words. "What are you talking about? You planned all of this. The venue, the suits, the flowers, even the menu—you decided on everything, Joonghyuk-ssi."

         He stared at her, lost in a sea of confusion. "So that person didn’t know anything about it?"

         Jung Heewon frowned again, as if trying to understand when he had started calling Kim Dokja ‘that person’. "No," she replied softly. "Not at first."

         "What?" His voice cracked. "I… I don’t understand." But maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t understand—it was that he couldn’t accept it. That he had been the one to want this. To want a future with Kim Dokja.

         Jung Heewon’s gaze softened as she added, "Kim Dokja didn’t know about the wedding at first… not until after you proposed to him."

         What?

         Another wave of shock crashed over him, making his head pound. Propose? He did that? He proposed to Kim Dokja?

         "Joonghyuk-ssi, please don’t joke with me. How could you forget? You were the one who was so excited about it." Jung Heewon’s voice carried an edge of disbelief, as if she couldn’t fathom that he might not remember.

         Wait. Wait. Just… please, wait. None of this made sense. "What did I do?" His voice was strained, barely more than a whisper.

         Jung Heewon’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. She realised now he wasn’t joking. "Seriously? You don’t remember anything ?" A heavy sigh escaped her. "Joonghyuk-ssi, as far as I know, you were the one who planned everything. You rented a private room at Restaurant C, nearly booked the whole place just for the two of you. You bought a hundred red roses and turned them into this massive bouquet, and then you asked Kim Dokja to meet you… so you could propose."

         He had done that? Him? But then— 

         “What about the ring?” His voice came out almost desperate, as though finding this one answer would anchor him back to reality. "Did I… did I give him a ring?" His mind raced, and suddenly, he remembered. The empty box. The one he found tucked away, with nothing inside but a phone number. Jung Heewon’s number.

         What did that mean?

         Jung Heewon paused, her expression softening, and shook her head. "Not yet. You proposed so suddenly, you didn’t have time to give him a ring." She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Actually, that reminds me—" She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a small velvet box. "You insisted on custom-making this ring." She opened the box, revealing a glittering single diamond set in white gold. It sparkled under the dim cafe lights, delicate and yet somehow unbearably heavy. "I picked it up for you, knowing you’d want to give it to Kim Dokja soon. I should’ve given it to you some time ago, but that accident happened." 

         She smiled gently, but Yoo Joonghyuk felt his chest tighten at the sight of the ring. Something so beautiful, so personal—and yet it felt like a cruel reminder of a past he couldn’t remember. The person he was supposed to be, the person who had planned a future with Kim Dokja— who was that man? It didn’t feel like him anymore.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened as he slowly took the velvet box from Jung Heewon, his eyes never leaving the glimmering diamond ring inside. He couldn’t even remember ordering it. How—why is it still so hard to believe this?  

         If it were true that he had once wanted to marry Kim Dokja, why had no one told him? Why hadn’t Mia, his own sister, the one person who was supposed to know his secrets, just said it outright when he asked about Kim Dokja? 

         An unknown pain gripped his chest, tight and suffocating, as if something vital had been lost.

         "Are you alright, Joonghyuk-ssi?" Jung Heewon's voice broke through his thoughts, now laced with genuine concern. She was clearly worried—his pale face and distant demeanour giving him away. 

         Did the accident really damage him this much? How much had he forgotten? Jung Heewon’s expression darkened as if realising something for the first time. "Joonghyuk-ssi, be honest with me. Do you really not remember any of this?"

         Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing at first, his throat tightening as he simply shook his head. The silence felt unbearably heavy.

         "What about Kim Dokja?" she pressed, her voice softer, but laden with confusion. "He’s supposed to be with you, right? Didn’t he tell you anything?"

         "I—" The words died in his throat as a cold, painful chill settled in his bones. I chased him away . That was what happened, wasn’t it? But if he told Jung Heewon that... she would be furious. She would never forgive him. Who could? But the more pressing question clawed at his mind

         — how could I not remember anything about Kim Dokja if all of this is true?

         Jung Heewon sighed heavily and pulled out another document, trying to push through the confusion between them. "I also have another document here that I need to pass to Kim Dokja," she explained, opening the file and spreading the papers across the table. "I tried calling him a few days ago, but he hasn’t been answering his phone. I thought maybe both of you were just busy, especially with your accident." 

         She paused, then looked at him carefully. "Since he’s not here, I’m assuming you can give this to him later. It’s your new house’s paperwork—everything is finalised. I just need your signature here so I can inform the dealer to proceed with the next step."

         The next step? Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart sank further as those words lingered ominously in his mind. What comes next, if I can’t even remember what came before?

         Sensing the confusion deepening in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, Jung Heewon tried to soften her tone as she continued. “The house was under renovation before, but it’ll be completely done by the end of this week. Here—this is the key.” She placed a small collection of keys in his trembling hand, watching his expression shift from shock to disbelief.

         “A house?” His voice cracked. “Are you telling me I bought a house?”

         Jung Heewon chuckled softly, but the warmth in her smile barely reached him. “Well, technically it was yours, but Kim Dokja made the payment. It’s fully paid, by the way. One hundred million won.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath hitched. One hundred million won? That was the amount Kim Dokja received from his contract—every single bit of it. Had he... spent it all for this?

         “You guys are really a cute couple, you know that?" Jung Heewon’s words were light, almost teasing, as if she were sharing a fond memory. "Actually, long before you thought of proposing, Kim Dokja had already bought the house in your name. He even asked me for legal help with the certificates. He wanted to surprise you, to propose when the time was right. But then, you beat him to it.”

         She chuckled again, remembering the moment, but Yoo Joonghyuk barely registered it. "I remember Kim Dokja crying hard when you knelt down with that ridiculous giant bouquet, practically covering your whole face. It was like the flowers proposed instead of you." She smiled softly. “Honestly, I half-hoped a bee would come out of those flowers and sting you, just to make the moment more memorable.”

         The joke fell flat. Neither of them laughed. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s face crumpled, his heart tightening with each word Jung Heewon said. He should’ve laughed. Maybe even found comfort in the thought of Kim Dokja's tears, his careful plans. But all he could feel was emptiness. 

          Why? His mind raced, swirling with questions that had no answers. Why can’t I remember any of this? The house, the proposal, Kim Dokja using his entire earnings for something meant for them... it was all a blur, lost in the fog of whatever he had forgotten. 

         He stared blankly at the keys in his hand, the cold metal biting into his skin. Kim Dokja had done this for him. For them. And yet, all Yoo Joonghyuk could feel was the weight of the memories he couldn’t recall, the love he somehow let slip through his grasp.

         “Anyway, that’s all I can tell you for now. If you have time, visit your new house with Kim Dokja soon. Let me know if there’s anything that needs fixing before you move in completely.” She stood, preparing to leave.

         “Wait.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice trembled slightly as he stopped her. “Kim Dokja— has he ever contacted you?”

         Puzzled, she turned back to him. “I’ve told you, I haven’t been able to reach him since last month.”

         Last month? A heavy weight settled in his chest. That was before Kim Dokja left. “Did he come to you?”

         “Are you asking because you’re looking for him? Do you not know where he is?”

         “I—” Once again, Yoo Joonghyuk found himself lost for words.

         “I was out of town that day. He came to my office to borrow the keys to the new house since he’d left them with me for a renovation check, and after a day, he returned them. That was the last time he visited. He hasn’t contacted me since, and I haven’t contacted him either.”

         A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken worries. Jung Heewon could see the turmoil in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes. It was painfully clear: Kim Dokja might be missing because of this incident. If Yoo Joonghyuk had truly forgotten everything that had transpired between them, then Kim Dokja’s absence could only stem from a heartbreak too deep to bear.

         Suddenly, an urgent need to find Kim Dokja surged within Yoo Joonghyuk. He had to confront the truth, to seek answers for the memories that eluded him. No matter how overwhelming it felt, he knew it was the only path forward.

         “I have to go now. I really hope you regain your memory fully, Joonghyuk-ssi.” Jung Heewon paused, her expression softening. “I can’t imagine how Kim Dokja must feel right now, knowing you don’t remember any of this. But I believe you can talk it through. Call me anytime if you need anything.”

         With that, she left, and Yoo Joonghyuk remained in the empty cafe, still holding the ring in his hand. The diamond sparkled mockingly, a symbol of a promise he couldn’t recall making.  

* * *

         For a while, Yoo Joonghyuk sat in the cafe, unsure of his next move. But then a thought pierced through the fog of confusion. If Jung Heewon, a virtual stranger, knew so much about him and Kim Dokja, what about Mia? She had to explain why she hadn’t told him anything when he first asked about Kim Dokja.

         With newfound urgency, he dialled her number. After a few rings, Mia answered.

         “I need to talk to you. Can you come over to my place?” His voice was strained, carrying a weight that made her pause.

         Mia recognized that tone— Her brother sounded tense, even terrifying. “I understand. I’ll be there at 7 PM.”

         Without waiting for a goodbye, he abruptly hung up, the urgency consuming him. Clutching the ring box tightly, he rushed out of the cafe and headed straight to his car, heart racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the answers he sought lay with Mia, and he needed to know everything about Kim Dokja.

* * *

         “Did you lie to me?” Yoo Joonghyuk's voice cut through the air as soon as Mia stepped inside. He glared at her from the couch, his expression cold and unforgiving.

         Mia felt a wave of nervousness wash over her, sensing the tension in the room. Even Lee Seolhwa, who had no idea what was going on, could feel the unease radiating from Yoo Joonghyuk. Gone was the warmth he usually showed her. 

         “What are you talking about, Oppa?” Mia replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

         “Kim Dokja,” he said sharply.

         The name sent a slight gasp through both Mia and Lee Seolhwa. 

         “Tell me what you know about him,” Yoo Joonghyuk demanded.

         Mia hesitated, gathering her thoughts. “You and Kim Dokja Ahjussi have been living together for three years.”

         “How did I meet him?”

         “In the hospital. When you had your accident three years ago. He was the one who saved you.”

         Saved him? The revelation twisted something deep inside him. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

         “I tried to. But you weren’t focused. You only wanted me to find Seolhwa-Unnie for you. You never once asked about Kim Dokja.”

         “But I did! I asked you who Kim Dokja was!” His voice rose in frustration.

         “And I told you to trust him! That he’s your companion!” Mia shot back, her voice rising to match his intensity.

         “But you never told me I was going to marry him!!”

         “How could I?! When all you could think about was that woman who left you three years ago! Do you think I wanted to keep this from you? It was Kim Dokja himself who asked me not to!” Her breaths came in quick bursts, revealing the weight of her emotions.

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt a surge of confusion. “Why would Kim Dokja not want you to tell me?” he asked, his voice trembling with disbelief.

         “Ha!” Mia exploded, her emotions spilling over. “What would have happened if I told you? Would it have made any difference? You treated him like a criminal who stole everything from you! Would you even believe me if I said he was meant to be your spouse? All you scream is her name!” She pointed accusingly at Lee Seolhwa. “I hate you, Oppa! She left years ago! Never once did she call to see how you were! It was always Kim Dokja who stayed by your side, who healed you, while you clung to her memory!”

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt stunned, a cold emptiness settling in his chest. But he couldn’t remember. Not a single thing, no matter how hard he tried.

         “And that damn contract!” Mia’s voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I should’ve burned it a long time ago! Why did I have to give it back to you?! That contract only destroys the genuine love he has for you—for someone as stupid as you!”

         “That’s enough, Mia!” Yoo Joonghyuk shouted, frustration boiling over. “I’m still your brother!”

         “A brother I wish I didn’t have!” 

         Enraged, he felt the impulse to slap her, but Lee Seolhwa intervened, placing a hand on his arm. “Joonghyuk-ssi, please calm down.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze fell on Mia, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. He never imagined they’d find themselves in such a situation. “What do you mean by ‘you had to give it back’? Wait… were you saying you knew about the contract between me and Kim Dokja all this time?”

         “Of course I knew! I was the one who persuaded him to sign it!” 

         What? The revelation sent shockwaves through him, twisting his thoughts into chaos.

         “Do you really think Kim Dokja would agree for the sake of money?” Mia’s voice cut through the chaos. “It was because he liked you! He wanted to be by your side, to take care of you! And doesn’t it ever occur to you that the contract would expire in one year? Why would he stay for another two if he was only in it for money? You never even renewed the contract! He asked you about it once, but you refused! You love him, too!”

         What? No, that couldn’t be true. The contract clearly stated he wanted Kim Dokja as a replacement for Lee Seolhwa. That meant he only loved Lee Seolhwa!

         “Why do you keep denying it, Oppa? How could you forget everything about him? Even if you don’t remember, why can’t you be nice to him? He’s your lifesaver! Can’t you even remember that?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt a tightness in his chest. “No! No! I can’t!” He clutched his hair, panic rising. Why couldn’t he remember? Why was it so hard to grasp everything?

         Not everything —just Kim Dokja.

         The world around him started to spin, thoughts swirling chaotically. “Why?” he whispered, despair lacing his voice. And then he felt it: darkness creeping in, swallowing him whole. The last thing he heard was Lee Seolhwa screaming his name, but it faded into nothingness, plunging him into oblivion.

* * *

         When Yoo Joonghyuk finally opened his eyes, the room felt heavy with silence. Mia was gone, leaving only Lee Seolhwa seated beside his bed, a quiet watchfulness in her gaze.

         “Joonghyuk-ssi? Are you alright?” Her voice broke through the stillness as she sensed him stirring, quickly offering him a glass of water. “Drink a little first.”

         “What happened?” he managed to whisper, the words feeling like a struggle.

         “You fainted. It seems the tension was too much for you. Remember, you’re still recovering from your injury. Please take care of yourself.” Her concern wrapped around him like a thin veil, but it felt more suffocating than comforting.

         “Where’s Mia?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

         “She went home. I thought it best for both of you to have some time apart.” 

         A heavy silence settled over them, each lost in their own thoughts. 

         “Seolhwa… why…” Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat tightened as he tried to form the question that had haunted him. He had always wanted to ask but never found the courage—not because he feared the question itself, but the answer that might come. 

         “Why did I leave you three years ago?” she asked, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips.

         The suddenness of her response took him aback, leaving him speechless.

         “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that since the moment I returned, Joonghyuk-ssi,” she continued, her tone tinged with sadness. “It’s surprising you only ask me now. Why have you been so reluctant? I owe you this explanation.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk remained silent, the weight of her words pressing heavily on his chest.

         “I was married to someone else three years ago.” 

         The revelation hit him like a physical blow, and his eyes widened in shock, the weight of her words crashing down on him.

         “I know I’ve betrayed you. I deserve your hatred. I left you without a word, leaving you hanging, and married someone else.” Lee Seolhwa’s voice trembled as she continued, “But if you asked me whether I regret it, I would say no, not at all.”

         “Why—” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice cracked, raw and hoarse. “Did I— did I make a mistake?”

         “No, Joonghyuk-ssi, you’re just fine. You treated me well. It was my choice to leave and marry that person. I married someone I once owed my life to. Before I met you, he was my classmate. We studied medicine together, dreaming of volunteering in war zones to save humanity. That year, by chance, I met him again. He asked me to join him in the Red Cross, volunteering in South Africa. I agreed. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let me go. I left, thinking I would explain everything once I settled in. I changed my number and deleted my contacts. I didn’t even know you had an accident. Perhaps that’s my only true regret— not knowing something terrible had happened to you.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk struggled to find the words. Lee Seolhwa had chosen her dream over him; was that what this meant?

         “I thought I loved you,” she admitted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, “but my love for my dream was even bigger. I’m so sorry for the heartbreak, Joonghyuk-ssi. At that time, I was in a rush. I didn’t think about how you would feel. We were in a relationship, but you must remember our last moments together; we always fought.”

         Did they? He tried to recall, but memories felt hazy and distant.

         “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten because of the accident, but we had so many fights. I wanted to study abroad, but you never let me. I understand now that you were just worried about me, but back then, I couldn’t accept it. That’s why I made the decision to leave without telling you.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk stared blankly at her, his heart sinking. All this time, he had been a fool, caught in a one-sided love, clinging to a memory that had faded long before he knew.

         “And perhaps because of that, I faced my karma. My husband died a year after we were married. He succumbed to an illness.” 

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected that. So—

         “But I owed him so much. I owed him our dreams. So once I know you’re alright here, I’ll return to where I belong and continue my work in his memory.”

         “Seolhwa—” he began, but she cut him off.

         “I truly believed your life was going well all this time. That’s why I never reached out. I saw you moving on, saw you happy.”

         “What? When did—”

         “I met Kim Dokja once.” 

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt another wave of shock wash over him.

         “I don’t know if he ever told you. But knowing you’ve completely forgotten him, I guess it wouldn’t matter even if he did.” 

         She paused, searching Yoo Joonghyuk’s face for any flicker of emotion. As she expected, his frown deepened, a mixture of confusion and pain etched across his features.

         “I saw you and him in Country M last year. I think you were on vacation together, just like I was with my husband. He must’ve recognized me when we crossed paths on the street. You were not with him at that time. I remember the surprise etched on his face when he saw me holding my husband’s arm. We sat down for a while, talking about everything. I told him how happy it made me to see you with him, how genuinely joyful you looked—smiling more than you ever did when we were together. You seemed so carefree, and in that moment, I convinced myself I had made the right choice in leaving, so you could have this new life.”

         She paused, searching for a reaction in Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression, but he remained silent.

         “So, Joonghyuk-ssi, if you must know, it was because of Kim Dokja himself, I’m here.”

         What?

         “Mia told me it was Kim Dokja who gave her my number. He was the only one who had it; I shared it with him the last time we met.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt a tight grip on his heart. Why would Kim Dokja do that? If he were in Kim Dokja's shoes, he would never share the contact information of his love rival.

         “I don’t know why he did that, but I can understand his anger when he saw me coming back. It was my fault—I should’ve told him I was coming to see you… and him. I thought I could mend things between you, but—” She looked at him, her eyes filled with guilt. “It all happened so fast. You weren’t stable yet, and I was afraid that forcing you to remember everything at once would hurt you… just like now.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk had fainted from the overwhelming emotions, and Lee Seolhwa's fears had become a reality.

         “I planned to remind you of him gradually, which is why I eventually agreed to live with you. But that chance never came. You kept denying everything, and I was too afraid to push any further. I owe you an apology, Joonghyuk-ssi, and above all, I owe Kim Dokja everything.

         “You may not remember everything right now, but please believe me when I say that Kim Dokja genuinely loves you. That’s all you need to hold onto for now.”

* * *

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt like he was losing himself, his mind slipping away bit by bit.

         After that night, Lee Seolhwa decided to leave, quietly returning to the country she had come from. When she told him, he had expected to feel something—anything. Sadness, regret, the urge to ask her to stay. But there was nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion. No urge to stop her, no words to make her stay. He just watched as she packed her things, his heart numb.  The emptiness scared him. He didn’t even try to fight it.

         Wasn’t he the one who had once been desperate to find her? Wasn’t he the one who had believed she was the key to returning to the life they had lost? But now... now, after everything had come to light, after all the truths she had revealed, he couldn’t help but wonder: had he ever truly wanted her back? Or had he been chasing a ghost, the memory of what they once had?

         His thoughts kept drifting back to Kim Dokja, a name that felt both distant and painfully close. Could it be... was it Kim Dokja all along? Had his love for Kim Dokja been buried beneath the fog of forgotten memories? But the contract... and the fact that he remembered nothing about their time together… It left him confused and aching inside.

         The fog in his mind felt endless, making it hard to think or feel anything clearly. He was lost in it, unsure of what was real anymore. 

         But one thing pierced through the haze: the need to find Kim Dokja. He had to know. He had to understand what had happened during those lost years, the years that had slipped away from him like a dream forgotten upon waking. 

         This time, he wouldn’t run. This time, he would listen, no matter how much it hurt.

         But finding Kim Dokja proved to be far more difficult than Yoo Joonghyuk expected, as though the man had simply vanished. Desperate, Yoo Joonghyuk finally admitted to Jung Heewon the truth—how he had completely forgotten Kim Dokja after the accident, and how he had been the one to push him away. The look on Jung Heewon’s face when she learned the truth was filled with fury and disappointment. Yoo Joonghyuk feared she wouldn’t help him at all, that she would keep any knowledge of Kim Dokja to herself out of sheer anger. 

         Yet despite her anger, Jung Heewon couldn’t leave him to wander in his guilt alone. She agreed to help him, even if it meant she had to bury her frustration. 

         They started by visiting Kim Dokja’s company—the company Yoo Joonghyuk himself had once helped build with his own money. Stepping inside, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t help but be taken aback at how well it had flourished in his absence. The employees immediately recognized him as Kim Dokja’s companion, but when he asked about Kim Dokja’s whereabouts, they all wore the same look of confusion. No one had seen or heard from him in months. He hadn’t visited, hadn’t even made a single phone call. It was as if Kim Dokja had cut all ties, leaving behind only silence.

         As the days dragged on without a single lead, Yoo Joonghyuk began to lose hope. Every avenue they pursued ended with the same dead end—Kim Dokja had vanished without a trace. Just when he was about to give up, Jung Heewon remembered Kim Dokja’s closest friend: Han Sooyoung. It was a small flicker of hope in the darkness, but even that was quickly extinguished when Yoo Joonghyuk discovered his number had been blocked by her.

         Why had she blocked him? Did they even know each other? He couldn’t remember, but the block spoke volumes. It could only mean one thing—Kim Dokja had been with her, or at least Han Sooyoung knew exactly what had happened. Maybe she believed he had wronged Kim Dokja, and that’s why she refused to let him in.

         The realisation hit hard. It wasn’t just a matter of finding Kim Dokja—it was about facing the consequences of everything that had come before. He was the one who drove Kim Dokja away. Now he had to find him, to fix the mistakes he didn’t even fully understand. But the more he searched, the more the fog in his mind thickened, and the further Kim Dokja seemed to slip away.

         "You should go back for now," Jung Heewon finally said, her voice firm but not unkind.

         Yoo Joonghyuk shook his head slightly. "I’ve been searching for him for days. There are so many things I need to ask him... about everything."

         "I understand," Jung Heewon replied, her gaze softening for a moment before hardening again. "But, to be honest, this is all your fault. You didn’t listen to him from the start. So, don’t blame him if he chose to disappear. If he doesn’t want to meet you anymore, it’s understandable. If I were him... I’d probably do the same."

         Yoo Joonghyuk remained silent. Her words cut deep because, somewhere inside, he knew she wasn’t wrong.

         With nowhere left to turn, he made an impulsive decision that day—to visit the house Kim Dokja had bought... for him. It was a place he wasn’t sure he had ever set foot in, yet when Jung Heewon gave him the address, something stirred in his mind. A distant, foggy memory clawed at the edges of his consciousness. Had he been there before?

         The house was modest—neither too large nor too small—perfect for two people to share. Nestled close to the city but surrounded by patches of greenery, it had a peaceful, quiet charm. Yoo Joonghyuk could only imagine how much Kim Dokja must have sacrificed to buy it and make it their home. He used the keys he had been given to unlock the gate, and the sight that greeted him left him momentarily breathless.

         A small garden greeted him on the porch, sunflowers in full bloom, their golden faces turned toward the sunlight. Kim Dokja had clearly planted them—or maybe hired someone to do it—but their presence felt personal, deliberate. They stood tall and proud, and for a brief second, Yoo Joonghyuk could almost see Kim Dokja tending to them, his quiet smile as he imagined their life together. The thought tugged at his heart painfully. 

         The house, the garden... everything was Kim Dokja's way of building a future. 

         A future they were supposed to share.

         As Yoo Joonghyuk unlocked the door and stepped inside, he felt a wave of astonishment wash over him. The house was nothing like he expected. Warmth radiated from the ivory-coloured walls, and the oak floors. It felt like home—his and Kim Dokja’s home. Each detail, every piece of furniture, every carefully placed decoration whispered of Kim Dokja’s thoughtful touch. It hit him suddenly—this wasn’t just Kim Dokja’s doing. Somewhere, in the depths of his lost memories, he had helped choose these things. Together, they had built this place.

         His eyes roamed the room, and there they were—frames, photos of the two of them in various countries. In each one, they were smiling, laughing, arms wrapped around each other. Yoo Joonghyuk stood frozen, staring at those images. Lee Seolhwa was right. He had looked happy—truly happy—with Kim Dokja. A happiness he couldn’t even remember feeling. He couldn’t recall smiling that wide, or laughing with such ease. Yet there it was, captured in each frame, undeniable proof that they had shared something deep, something real.

         Kim Dokja hadn’t lied. 

         They had been in love. Yoo Joonghyuk could see it clearly in the way he looked at Kim Dokja in the photos, the unspoken tenderness that was so foreign to him now, yet so familiar in those moments frozen in time. 

         But... why? Why couldn’t he remember any of it?

         He wandered into the bedroom, a smaller space, but one that felt equally intimate. He sat on the edge of the bed, the emptiness of the closets drawing his attention. They were waiting—waiting to be filled with his and Kim Dokja’s clothes, with the life they had planned together. The silence of the room pressed in on him as his gaze drifted to the small bedside table. A frame had fallen, covering the picture inside. Without thinking, Yoo Joonghyuk reached out to fix it.

         But when he turned the frame upright, his breath caught in his throat.

         It wasn’t just a picture.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands trembled as he stared down at the frame. The image inside was black and white, blurred at first glance, nothing more than a chaotic swirl of darkness, except for one thing—the tiny shape curled up in the middle. A small, delicate form.

         It was a sonogram. An unborn baby.

         His heart thudded painfully in his chest as his eyes skimmed over the details printed on the image. Eight weeks. That much he understood. But the rest—he couldn’t make sense of it, not yet. His mind spun, grasping at the only question that mattered: Was it theirs?

         As the thought crossed his mind, a searing pain ripped through his skull, sharp and sudden, like a rubber band snapping inside his brain. The ache was overwhelming, forcing him to clutch the side of his head. Memories—so many memories—came crashing down on him all at once. He staggered, barely able to stay on his feet as the flood of images overwhelmed him.

         He saw Kim Dokja. The first time they met. Their first kiss. Walking hand in hand through the park, the warmth of the sun on their faces. He saw them cooking side by side in the kitchen, the sound of their laughter filling the air. Movie nights on the couch, beer and popcorn in their laps.

         And then, something more intimate, more sacred—he saw himself kneeling before Kim Dokja, gently pressing his lips to his lover's growing belly, whispering soft prayers for their unborn child. 

         Their child.

         It was all real.

         Yoo Joonghyuk gasped for breath as the memories surged through him, raw and vivid, filling in the gaps that had haunted him for so long. He remembered it all now—everything they had shared, everything they had lost. And the weight of that loss crushed him, leaving him standing in the empty house, a man shattered by the truth he had forgotten. 

         Kim Dokja. The love of his life. The child they were meant to have. 

         It was theirs. They were going to have a baby. The weight of that truth crashed over him like a storm, pulling him deeper into memories that had once felt lost. He remembered the moment he decided to propose to Kim Dokja—the blooming flowers, their vibrant colours reflecting the joy he felt inside. He could see Kim Dokja’s tears of happiness when he accepted his proposal, even without a ring to offer at that moment.

         They had been so full of hope, so eager to decorate their new home together, planning for a future that now felt impossibly distant. 

         And then the accident. 

         He recalled the frantic rush, the exhilaration that coursed through him when he received the news that the ring was ready. He had been desperate to get back, to see the joy on Kim Dokja’s face when he slipped the ring onto his finger. But in that hurried moment, everything had shattered. 

         Kim Dokja was his companion—through the light and the darkness, in life and in death. 

         This was his fate.

         He might forget, but fate never forgets. 

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED~

Chapter Text

         Yoo Joonghyuk stared blankly at the contract he had just finished drafting. The faint glimmer of doubt in his eyes mirrored the ache in his chest as he read through the terms and conditions. Should he really go through with this? Could he? His conscience screamed that it was immoral, chaining someone to a commitment bought with money. No matter how hard he tried to justify it, his actions felt hollow, senseless. 

         And yet... the contract was right there, gripped in his hand, waiting for the other party’s signature.

         ‘As Lee Seolhwa's replacement…’

         The words stared back at him, stark and cold. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk exhaled slowly, placing the paper down on the desk. It was wrong. He knew that. What he didn’t know was what darkness had seeped into him, twisting him to draft such a cruel agreement in the first place.

         “What are you looking at, Oppa?” Mia’s voice cut through the stillness as she burst into the room, balancing a tray of tea in her hands. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t answer, his gaze locked on the piece of paper lying on the desk. He knew what was coming. As Mia set the tray down, her curiosity got the better of her. She gently lifted the paper, her eyes scanning it. And as expected, her expression quickly shifted to shock.

         “Oppa?! Are you crazy??”

         Crazy? Perhaps. No—definitely. To even think of something so ridiculous, so desperate.

         “This is—this is completely inappropriate! Besides, he doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him! What makes you believe he’d agree to this?” Her voice trembled, full of disbelief. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk could only shake his head, weakly, as though the weight of his own actions had drained the strength from him. He didn’t know what he was thinking. Still... “I just need someone.”

         Mia fell silent, unable to find the words to respond. She could see it now—her brother, usually strong and unyielding, undone by loneliness. Maybe that was it. The greatest fear anyone could have wasn’t death, but isolation. And her brother, for all his pride and resolve, was only human. The crushing weight of solitude had unravelled him, driven him to madness. But this... this wasn’t the way.

         Yoo Joonghyuk reached out, retrieving the contract from her hands. “I know. I shouldn’t do this.” His voice was low, resigned, as if he was trying to convince himself of the same truth.

         For a moment, silence hung between them, thick and heavy. Then, Mia broke it, her voice barely a whisper. “Have you told him about this?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s head lifted slowly, and Mia saw the raw, unmistakable pain in her brother’s eyes. “I did. I showed him the contract.”

         She held her breath, dread curling in her chest. “And… Did he agree?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk shook his head. “Not yet. He said he’d consider it.”

         “Do you think he’s going to accept?”

         Truthfully, Yoo Joonghyuk thought not. He didn’t know Kim Dokja well, their encounters were few and fleeting, but he had seen enough to know that Kim Dokja was a man with integrity. The offer—an obscene sum of money—would be tempting to anyone. But Yoo Joonghyuk felt deep down that it wasn’t enough. Not for someone like Kim Dokja. Not to make him stand by Yoo Joonghyuk’s side in such a hollow, twisted arrangement, pretending to be someone else.

         So, once again, all he could do was shake his head.

         Mia was truly speechless now. She wanted to scold her brother, to lash out at him for even entertaining such a despicable thought. But the words wouldn’t come. She knew him too well. Yoo Joonghyuk had always been a man of principle. He would never have come to this point unless he was utterly desperate. All she could do was curse the cruelty of fate. If only Lee Seolhwa hadn’t left him so abruptly, her brother wouldn’t have spiralled into this frantic search for her, and the accident… the accident wouldn’t have happened.

         But what had happened, had happened.

         Without a word, Yoo Joonghyuk turned his wheelchair around, his hands gripping the wheels tightly as he moved towards his bedroom. He didn’t touch the tea she had brought him, nor did he reach for the contract. The paper lay there, abandoned, like an unspoken regret.

         Mia watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of things unsaid. Slowly, she picked up the contract, folding it gently as if it might break in her hands.

         Maybe—just maybe—there was still hope.

* * *

         Kim Dokja sat quietly at the corner of the coffee shop, waiting for someone who had unexpectedly invited him here. Even though the invitation was unexpected, he still could guess what the other party would talk about with him. He sighed. He didn’t understand how things had turned up like this. All of a sudden, he was entabled in someone else’s life, and honestly speaking, he disliked it. He didn’t want anything to do with it, even though he did like Yoo Joonghyuk. Still the contract Yoo Joonghyuk had offered was absurd. There was no way any normal person would agree to that. 

         The money, he had to admit, was attempting, but he couldn't bear the moral responsibility lay with it. As he was deep in his thoughts, a soft ding sounded as a sign a guest had arrived.  Kim Dokja lifted up his head reflectively, looking at who was coming. As expected it was the person whom he had been waiting for.

         Yoo Mia.

         The woman quickly spotted him and headed right after. Kim Dokja forced himself to calm down. No matter what they were going to talk about, he knew he should keep his mind clear.

         “I’m sorry. I’m late. There was traffic just now. Have you been waiting for me for too long?”

         Kim Dokja shook his head and smiled dimly. “It’s okay. I could use some time to relax and enjoy the coffee here.”

         There was an awkward silence for a moment between them, before Mia decided to bring out an envelope and carefully put out the content. “Ahjussi… have you— have you seen this?”

         Kim Dokja stared quietly at the piece of paper Yoo Mia had just placed before him. He knew it. He didn’t have to read it thoroughly again, he could recognise the paper at once.

         It was ‘that’ contract—simple yet shocking in its implications. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk was asking him to step in as a replacement for Lee Seolhwa. The terms were laid out clearly: Kim Dokja would attend events with him, provide emotional support, and act as if he were the missing presence in Yoo Joonghyuk's life. The arrangement would last for several months, with a generous amount of money offered as compensation. Confidentiality was key—no one could know about the agreement, and Kim Dokja would have the option to walk away with proper notice.

         Mia's voice broke the silence, soft but strained. "He’s... not thinking straight, Ahjussi. I apologise on his behalf. I know this isn’t right. But he’s desperate, and he— I— don’t know what else to do."

         Kim Dokja’s hands shook slightly as he folded the paper back up. Desperation was an understatement. Yoo Joonghyuk was grasping at anything to fill the void left by Seolhwa, even if it meant trying to bind someone else into that empty space. He sat in silence, staring at the contract Mia had handed him. His fingers clenched the paper tightly, the absurdity of what was written coursing through him like a sharp, bitter wind. 

         Replace Lee Seolhwa? Stand in as a substitute for the woman Yoo Joonghyuk had loved so deeply? The idea itself was revolting. But instead of tearing the paper in half and walking away, something deeper stirred within him. He couldn’t shake the image of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hollow eyes when they had last met, the broken expression on his face when he mentioned Seolhwa's name. The once stoic and strong man was now a shadow of who he had been, lost and afraid. Yoo Joonghyuk had always been the pillar, the unshakable force. Yet now, with Seolhwa gone, he was crumbling.

         Days had slipped by since Yoo Joonghyuk first presented the contract to him. He didn't push Kim Dokja to reconsider, nor did he try to reach out. And somehow, Kim Dokja had a feeling that Yoo Joonghyuk was falling apart, and no one was there to catch him. Now, Mia came to him and brought up the contract. And it made him wrestle with his emotions, until the realisation struck him. 

         Perhaps… This wasn’t about replacing Seolhwa. It wasn’t about a contract or filling some empty role. 

         It was about love. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t need Seolhwa. Yoo Joonghyuk was lost. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk needed love, and he didn’t want to get lost.

         Perhaps he was a fool, but that thought echoed in Kim Dokja’s mind as he contemplated why Yoo Joonghyuk could conceive of such an absurd contract, especially one offered to someone like him—a complete stranger. The lingering question weighed heavily on him. Why him? Of all people, why him?

         “Why me?” Kim Dokja finally voiced the question that had been circling in his thoughts, glancing at Mia, who looked taken aback.

         “Of all the people your brother could have chosen, why me?” 

         Mia paused, her brow furrowed as she searched for the right words. After a moment, she replied, “Maybe… because you once saved his life.”

         Kim Dokja frowned, the weight of her words settling in. 

         “You’re his saviour,” she continued softly. “So maybe—maybe he believes you’re the only one who can save him again.”

         The answer hung in the air, leaving both of them momentarily speechless. It was a strange notion, yet it resonated deeply within Kim Dokja’s heart. Taking a steadying breath, he pulled the contract, “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll sign it.”

         Mia's eyes widened in disbelief, confusion flickering across her face. “Are you sure? It’s… it’s not right,” she stammered, struggling to understand Kim Dokja’s sudden decision.

         Kim Dokja leaned forward. “It’s not about right or wrong anymore, Mia-ssi. It’s about your brother needing someone, and me being here. We can figure this out together.”

         “But what if it doesn’t work? I don’t want to trap you in something you’ll regret,” Mia said, her eyes wet.

         Kim Dokja shook his head. “You’re not trapping me. I’ve seen him. Your brother is struggling, and I can’t just stand by and watch him suffer. I want to help him.”

         Mia hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for the contract. “This feels wrong, Ahjussi. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

         “I’m not feeling obligated,” Kim Dokja insisted, "this is my choice. I know it sounds crazy, but I believe we can make it work. We can take it one step at a time.”

         Mia’s gaze softened, a mixture of hope and fear flickering in her eyes. “You really mean that?”

         “Yes,” Kim Dokja affirmed, his heart pounding. “He deserves someone by his side, and I want to be that person. I’ll be there for him, no matter what. Just… just let me.”

         Taking a deep breath, Mia looked down at the contract, “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “If you’re sure…”

         “Mia-ssi,” Kim Dokja’s voice stopped her. “Do you think he will be happy?”

         At the time, Mia had no answer. Would her brother truly be happy? She couldn’t predict it. But after a year of watching Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk living together in quiet peace, Mia was sure her brother had found happiness. Kim Dokja seemed content too, and Mia never once doubted his devotion to Yoo Joonghyuk. For that, she was deeply grateful.

         But then— was it true? Was it the same for Yoo Joonghyuk? Was he happy, too?

         Yoo Joonghyuk had been caught off guard when he opened his door the very next day to find Kim Dokja standing there with his luggage. There wasn’t much said, just a faint smile from Kim Dokja. But the words he spoke would forever echo in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind.

         “I’ve signed the contract. I’m officially yours for one year.”

         It didn’t feel right, not for Yoo Joonghyuk and not for either of them. Yet, there they stood, looking at each other, both feeling lost but strangely as though they had found something—someone—they thought they had lost. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t understand why Kim Dokja had agreed to that ridiculous contract, yet there he was, with his signature clearly inked on the paper.

         Was Yoo Joonghyuk happy?

         Actually… no. He wasn’t.

         Because deep down, Yoo Joonghyuk believed that the only reason Kim Dokja had accepted the contract was for money. Only for money. How could he blame him, though? Kim Dokja was just being pragmatic, like anyone else would. Who could resist the temptation of one hundred million won? 

         But then, why did Yoo Joonghyuk feel this strange sense of resentment? He had been the one to propose the contract in the first place. Now that Kim Dokja had accepted it, shouldn’t he feel satisfied? Shouldn’t he feel content?

         So what else did he want?

         That entire year, Kim Dokja fulfilled every obligation Yoo Joonghyuk had laid out in the contract, acting as Lee Seolhwa’s replacement with unwavering dedication. He prepared meals three times a day, helped him shower, accompanied him to therapy sessions, ran errands, cleaned the house—he did everything Yoo Joonghyuk required and more. Much more than Yoo Joonghyuk had anticipated. More, even, than Lee Seolhwa had ever done for him.

         But why? Why did Kim Dokja go above and beyond what the contract demanded?

         Yoo Joonghyuk often found himself hoping that Kim Dokja wasn’t doing all this solely because of the contract. He wanted to believe that no amount of money could make someone hold your hand when you were at your lowest, when you were desperately trying to heal. No amount could compel someone to kneel down and clean your shoes or help put them on your feet, or crawl into bed next to you, bearing the humiliation when you called someone else’s name at the height of your vulnerability.

         Yes, Yoo Joonghyuk had done that. He had deliberately called Lee Seolhwa’s name, testing Kim Dokja's endurance, his resolve. He wanted to see if Kim Dokja’s patience would break, if the man would walk away. 

         Yet, Kim Dokja stayed. Every time.

         Yoo Joonghyuk made Kim Dokja's life a nightmare during their first year together. He picked on every little thing Kim Dokja did differently from Lee Seolhwa, criticising him for the smallest mistakes. The soup was too salty, the bath too hot, the pillows too firm. Even when the weather was too scorching during a day out, Yoo Joonghyuk blamed Kim Dokja for it. He pushed Kim Dokja to the breaking point, so much so that he had seen Kim Dokja cry once, silent tears slipping down his cheeks as Yoo Joonghyuk continued his relentless complaints.

         But even through all of this—through the emotional bruises and the constant demands—Kim Dokja never gave up. Yoo Joonghyuk could tell Kim Dokja wasn’t a good cook. He couldn’t even tell the difference between herbs, and his first attempts at cooking a simple stir-fry were laughable. But Kim Dokja didn’t stop trying. Yoo Joonghyuk often caught him watching cooking shows late at night, scribbling down notes about ingredients, trying desperately to improve. He saw the blisters on Kim Dokja’s hands from hot oil, the frustration etched on his face when things didn’t turn out right.

         Could one hundred million won make someone endure all of this? Could money alone drive a person to try so hard, to push through tears and pain just to make another’s life more bearable?

         It wasn't just the small inconveniences. Yoo Joonghyuk took it further. One night, he pretended to be drunk and forced Kim Dokja into bed with him. In his mind, there was nothing wrong with it—Kim Dokja had agreed to the terms, had signed the contract knowing full well what it entailed. To Yoo Joonghyuk, going to bed with him was just part of the job, part of fulfilling the role as Lee Seolhwa's replacement. It was nothing personal. Or so he told himself.

         Yet, Yoo Joonghyuk didn't treat Kim Dokja gently. Each time, he deliberately called out Lee Seolhwa's name, hoping—almost begging—for a flicker of resentment, some sign that Kim Dokja would finally lash out, showing him the anger he deserved. But Kim Dokja didn’t. He stayed the same, quietly enduring. After every encounter, Kim Dokja would gently cover him with the quilt, his touch soft and careful, as if Yoo Joonghyuk had never hurt him. And every morning, Kim Dokja would rise before dawn, cleaning up, making coffee, and serving breakfast as if nothing had ever happened. No cold stares, no bitterness. Only that same gentle smile greeted Yoo Joonghyuk every morning when Kim Dokja said, "Good morning."

         There was no sign of resentment, no trace of the pain Yoo Joonghyuk had inflicted on him. Kim Dokja remained steadfast, unfazed, offering him the same quiet kindness, day after day.

         Could one hundred million won make someone do this? Could money make someone stay, smile, and care even after being shattered over and over again?

         So many of Kim Dokja’s actions made Yoo Joonghyuk question himself—why would Kim Dokja go to such lengths? Why did he endure so much? But then again, why was Yoo Joonghyuk even questioning it? Shouldn’t he be satisfied that Kim Dokja had done everything he asked? Shouldn’t he feel content that the contract was being fulfilled to the letter? What more could he possibly want from Kim Dokja?

         After all, Kim Dokja had done nothing wrong. He had done exactly what was asked of him from the very beginning. So why did something still gnaw at Yoo Joonghyuk, leaving him restless?

         It was a denial— plain and simple. 

         Deep down, Yoo Joonghyuk realised that the thing he had been questioning all along wasn’t even a real question—it was hope. A fragile hope that Kim Dokja wasn’t doing all of this for the money, that somewhere beneath the surface, Kim Dokja did it because he cared, because he liked him.

         But did Yoo Joonghyuk have the right to wish for such a thing? Did he have the courage to hope for it, after all he had said and done? After he had told Kim Dokja over and over, “I’m waiting for Seolhwa to come back,” and “You’re nothing but her replacement.” After he had driven the knife deeper by warning him, “Don’t fall for me. There’s no place for you in my heart—only Seolhwa.”

         How could he dare hope for anything more from Kim Dokja, when he had wounded him so deeply? Yet despite all the harsh words, Kim Dokja would only nod gently, offering that same soft smile as he replied, “I understand.”

         And that was the truth that haunted Yoo Joonghyuk—the quiet, aching hope that maybe, just maybe, Kim Dokja cared for him. 

         Despite everything. 

         He was a sick bastard, and Yoo Joonghyuk knew it all too well.

         One day, as they walked quietly through the park, they passed a couple hand in hand, laughing softly to each other. Yoo Joonghyuk glanced at Kim Dokja’s face, catching the fleeting look in his eyes as he watched the couple. There it was—longing, a silent ache that Yoo Joonghyuk recognized instantly because it mirrored his own. Once, every time he saw such scenes, he used to wonder. He would wonder if Lee Seolhwa hadn’t left him, if that accident hadn’t happened, would it be him walking hand in hand with her, dreaming about a future together?

         But strangely, those thoughts had begun to fade. He thought less and less about Lee Seolhwa now. And if he were truly honest with himself, he no longer wished to see her. What would be the point, anyway? He had spent so long clinging to that hope, that dream of what might have been, but now… he realised something.

         He didn’t deserve it.

         Yoo Joonghyuk finally understood that, after all this time. He might have made mistakes—mistakes Lee Seolhwa couldn’t forgive—but that didn’t mean he deserved to be abandoned without a word. She left him without explanation, without even a fight worth remembering. It was unjust, unfair. But who was he to cry foul?

         Because in truth, he had done something far worse to Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja, who had never wronged him, who wasn’t even part of his past pain, had been the one to endure the full brunt of Yoo Joonghyuk’s anger, hatred, and humiliation. All for sins that weren’t his to bear. The real difference was stark—Yoo Joonghyuk had loved Lee Seolhwa dearly, yet she had left him. But Kim Dokja, who Yoo Joonghyuk treated so cruelly, stayed.

         Kim Dokja endured it all.

         And Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t ignore that truth any longer. He knew he was unworthy of Kim Dokja’s loyalty, yet Kim Dokja remained by his side despite everything, a quiet, steady presence amidst the storm of Yoo Joonghyuk’s bitterness. That thought gnawed at him, day after day.

         It was unfair. Completely unfair. But this time, it was Yoo Joonghyuk who was the villain, the one inflicting wounds on an innocent. And for what? For a love that had long since vanished into the past?

         Yoo Joonghyuk had never hated himself more.

         The day marked exactly one year since Kim Dokja had followed him. As Yoo Joonghyuk stared at the familiar contract now resting on his desk once more, he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just any document—it was brought out by Kim Dokja himself. And that same dim smile on Kim Dokja’s face, the one that used to seem reassuring, now felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

         “It’s been one year already,” Kim Dokja said softly, his tone even and steady, as if this were an ordinary conversation.

         Yoo Joonghyuk was stunned, no—paralyzed. Did this mean…? No, it couldn’t. 

         “The contract between us has finally ended.” Kim Dokja’s voice was calm, but the weight of those words hit Yoo Joonghyuk like a crushing blow.

         Still, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t say anything. His mind was racing, but his body remained frozen.

         Kim Dokja called him again, this time addressing him formally, “Joonghyuk-ssi.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cheque and gently placing it on top of the contract. “This is the money you lent me. It’s time for me to return it.”

         One hundred million won. 

         No less, no more — The exact amount. 

         “Why?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice finally broke through the silence, rough and raw, his throat burning as if it had been scraped with glass. The question was simple, but the answer was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

         Kim Dokja looked momentarily surprised, taken aback by the question, but he quickly composed himself, that same polite smile resurfacing. “Today is the expiration date,” he explained quietly, swallowing as if to push down his own discomfort. “Besides, I’m sure you won’t need me anymore. It’s only fair for me to return every kindness you gave me.”

         Kindness? The word echoed in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind, hollow and painful. How could Kim Dokja describe what had passed between them as kindness ? After everything Yoo Joonghyuk had put him through, after all the cruelty, the indifference, the way he had treated him like nothing more than a stand-in, a tool… And yet Kim Dokja stood there, as if none of it had truly mattered.

         As if Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t matter.

         But he did. Kim Dokja mattered in a way Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t articulate, a way that had crept into his heart when he wasn’t looking. And now that it was too late, now that Kim Dokja was preparing to walk away, Yoo Joonghyuk found himself utterly unprepared for the emptiness that awaited him.

         How could Kim Dokja not see it? How could he not understand that this wasn’t what Yoo Joonghyuk wanted?

         The cheque sat atop the contract, a bitter symbol of their transaction. But Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t want the money. He didn’t want the contract to end.

         He wanted Kim Dokja.

         Yoo Joonghyuk bowed his head, trying to grasp what was happening, but still, he didn’t understand. Kim Dokja was right, at least partially—Yoo Joonghyuk no longer needed the kind of assistance he had required when they first met. He could walk, run, and had regained his strength. The wheelchair was a distant memory. Kim Dokja had helped him restore his physical health and so much more.

         Kim Dokja had also given him his life back in other ways. He had helped Yoo Joonghyuk rebuild his fame, assisted him with his streaming career, and even found ways to help him improve in the gaming world. Kim Dokja had done everything for him. But did that mean it was right for him to leave now?

         “I’m really grateful you lent me the money,” Kim Dokja said quietly, his voice cutting through Yoo Joonghyuk’s thoughts. “I achieved my dream and stopped being a corporate slave. You gave me freedom, but I know I shouldn’t be greedy.”

         Greedy. The word hit Yoo Joonghyuk like a punch to the chest. It wasn’t Kim Dokja who had been greedy—it was him. Deep down, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t want Kim Dokja to leave. The thought of it threatening to tear apart whatever fragile control he had left. Kim Dokja had become a presence in his life that he could no longer deny, but the fear lingered. What if all along, Kim Dokja had only stayed because of the money? What if there was no deeper reason?

         Now, with the contract expired, Kim Dokja was free. 

         He was free from the burden of taking care of a broken man, free from the cruelty and humiliation Yoo Joonghyuk had subjected him to. He was free to live his own life—free to find someone who deserved his devotion, someone who could give him the happiness Yoo Joonghyuk never could.

         There was no reason for Kim Dokja to stay. And Yoo Joonghyuk knew, deep down, that he had no right to ask him to. He had treated Kim Dokja horribly for the entire year—never offering him love, only pain.

         But as much as he tried to push the feeling away, the truth was undeniable.

         Yoo Joonghyuk quietly folded the contract and placed it into the drawer, alongside the cheque Kim Dokja had returned. “I understand,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, unable to meet Kim Dokja’s eyes. He knew that if he looked up, he’d see the quiet resolve in Kim Dokja’s gaze, and that would make everything harder.

         Kim Dokja said nothing in return. He simply nodded once more before turning away.

         Yoo Joonghyuk stood frozen, watching silently as Kim Dokja packed his belongings, piece by piece, methodically erasing his presence from what had once been their home. Despite the ache deep in his chest, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t speak, didn’t reach out to stop him. He couldn’t. Kim Dokja deserved his freedom, and Yoo Joonghyuk knew he had no right to ask him to stay.

         When the door finally closed behind Kim Dokja, an unbearable silence filled the apartment. Days passed, and Yoo Joonghyuk found himself sinking deeper into the emptiness left behind. Streaming, updating his life, all the things that once defined his routine felt meaningless now. He retreated further into himself, avoiding the world as if burying his own existence would numb the pain. But it didn’t.

         The hope he had clung to, the idea that Kim Dokja might stay, had been shattered. Lee Seolhwa, the woman he once thought was his future, had long since faded from his heart. And now, Kim Dokja—the one person who had quietly stayed by his side through it all—was gone as well.

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt the weight of his mistakes crushing down on him. The world, once filled with dreams and desires, now seemed bleak and devoid of meaning. It was as if the very light that had guided him had vanished, leaving him adrift in a darkness of his own making.

         When Yoo Mia walked into her brother’s apartment, she was horrified by what she saw. Yoo Joonghyuk, once so meticulous and pristine, looked like a shadow of his former self. His face was unshaven, his hair grown out and unkempt. He sat in the middle of a messy living room, surrounded by takeaway boxes and food leftovers strewn across the floor. The air was thick with neglect, as if the house itself had given up on life.

         But what shocked her the most was the absence of Kim Dokja.

         "Oppa?! What happened to you?? Where’s Dokja-ahjussi?" she asked, her voice rising in concern. She couldn’t believe the state her brother was in. Yoo Joonghyuk had always been a difficult person, but Kim Dokja had never seemed to mind. The two of them had built something together—or so she thought.

         Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t look up. His voice was hollow, distant. "The contract," he muttered. "It’s expired."

         Yoo Mia’s heart sank. The words explained everything. Kim Dokja must have left.

         "He returned the money to me. No more, no less." Yoo Joonghyuk's voice was heavy, as if each word weighed him down further.

         Mia stood frozen. So Kim Dokja didn’t just leave—he made sure to sever every tie. No debt, no connection. She couldn’t believe it, but she understood. Kim Dokja was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. But still—

         "Did you try to stop him?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s face twisted into a frown, his lips pressed together in frustration. His silence was the answer. No, he hadn’t tried. He had let Kim Dokja walk away without a word, because deep down, he knew he didn’t deserve to stop him. He was a coward, and now it was too late.

         Yoo Mia’s heart clenched painfully as she looked at her brother, but she also understood this was a mess of his own making. The hollow emptiness in his once sharp eyes told her everything without a single word exchanged. “Do you want him to stay with you?” she asked, her voice soft, almost afraid to disturb the silence.

         Yoo Joonghyuk slowly lifted his gaze, meeting his sister’s. He didn’t need to respond; the answer was painfully obvious in the dull, shattered light of his eyes. 

         Yet, Mia couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that burned inside her. “Why?”

         Why?  

         Why?  

         Because Lee Seolhwa had left him, and now there was no one else left to turn to but Kim Dokja?  

         Because after all the sacrifices Kim Dokja had made for him, he still hadn’t done enough in return?  

         Why?  

         Was it the gnawing loneliness, the crushing despair, the seething rage, or the unbearable weight of guilt?  

         No.  

         It was something else. Something deeper. Something that frightened him to admit.  

         Because— 

         Kim Dokja was the only one who had ever mattered.

         "Oppa, there's something I never told you," Mia began, her voice soft yet steady. "The first time Kim Dokja agreed to stay with you, he asked me a question." She paused, her gaze piercing through her brother’s tired eyes. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk remained silent, but a flicker of curiosity betrayed him. What question?

         Mia took a deep breath, offering a bittersweet smile. “He asked me: Do you think your brother will be happy? "

         Happy.

         Her words hung in the air like a weight pressing down on them both.

         "And now I ask you, Oppa," she whispered, "were you happy with him?"

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips parted, but no words came. His face crumpled under the unbearable truth, and before he could stop himself, the tears came—raw and uncontrollable. Mia’s heart shattered as she watched her once unbreakable brother dissolve into sorrow, realising he had lost not just Kim Dokja, but everything that could have made him happy.

         Was happiness the purpose of being alive?  

         To live in joy, to find contentment—wasn’t that why we chose our paths?  

         Wasn’t that the reason we walked through our fates?  

         We might forget.  

         But fate never forgets.

         Was Yoo Joonghyuk truly happy with Kim Dokja?

         At first, all he felt was anger. Rage burned in his chest, disappointment coursing through his veins, left behind by the person he believed loved him most. The one to whom he had devoted his life. But the cruel truth was that the person abandoned him without hesitation. Not once did they try to return or reconnect. No matter how desperately Yoo Joonghyuk sought them, they remained elusive, as if they had been erased from existence.

         And now, no matter how hard he tried to remember their face, their voice, it was slipping away—distant, like a shadow fading into the horizon. As though they had never been real at all. As though they had never existed to begin with.

         So don’t blame fate to make him forget.

         Instead, he had found someone else—someone who brought light back into his life. Someone who reminded him what happiness tasted like. That person brought him back to the warmth of the sunshine, to the gentle caress of a spring breeze, even when he was at his lowest. Even in the moments of his worst despair, that person made him see joy again—like the faint comfort behind the smell of a cooked meal on the stove.

         That person reminded him of happiness.  

         That person reminded him of life.  

         That person reminded him of the fate he was meant to walk.  

         And that person was never Lee Seolhwa.  

         It was Kim Dokja all along.

         "Then find him."

         Yoo Joonghyuk jolted upright, his tears abruptly halting at the sound of his sister’s resolute voice.

         "Find him and bring him back. Don’t let the same fate happen to you twice. Haven’t you had enough?"

         His eyes widened in realisation. Mia was right. What was he doing? Why had he been sitting here, wasting time, instead of chasing after Kim Dokja? Was he really going to let Kim Dokja slip away the same way Lee Seolhwa had—without explanation, without a fight? 

         This wasn’t about the contract anymore. It had been wrong from the very start. As Yoo Joonghyuk rushed out, frantically searching for Kim Dokja, memories of their time together flooded his mind. Countless moments—some bitter, others sweet—played out like a film reel, vivid and haunting. Every fight, every laugh, every silent moment shared between them.

         He couldn’t forget. Fate didn’t forget either.

         He would fix it. He would start over, from the beginning, and this time, he would do it right. All this time, he had asked himself if one hundred million won could make someone stay, smile, care, even after being broken over and over again. 

         But he had always known the answer, hadn't he? It was never the money. It had never been the money. Kim Dokja had stayed because he wanted Yoo Joonghyuk to be happy. Because Kim Dokja wanted them to be happy. 

         Because Kim Dokja loved him.

         Only someone who truly loved you would go to such lengths to make you happy. That was the truth Yoo Joonghyuk had been too blind to see.

         Kim Dokja loved him.

         Meanwhile, Kim Dokja was at the airport, just moments away from boarding a flight to another country. He looked just as wrecked as he felt—dark circles under his eyes, his face pale and hollow, as if he hadn't slept in days. It was clear he had been crying, probably as much as Yoo Joonghyuk had, though neither would ever admit it. Kim Dokja had bought a one-way ticket to M country, his plan to escape his despair for a while, to forget everything.

         But was it fortunate or unfortunate that fate never forgets?

         Kim Dokja had blocked Yoo Joonghyuk's number the moment he walked out of their home. At the time, it felt necessary, an act of severance. But now, as he stood alone at the gate, waiting to leave it all behind, he questioned his decision. What was the point of blocking the number? It wasn’t like Yoo Joonghyuk would call him. They had only been together to fulfil a contract, and that contract had expired. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t care about him anymore. 

         Even though they never found Lee Seolhwa, Kim Dokja was certain Yoo Joonghyuk could move on, find someone better. He had done enough for him. The money Yoo Joonghyuk lent had given him the chance to build the company he always dreamed of, to bury his mother with dignity. What more could Kim Dokja ask for? He should be grateful for the year they spent together, for the fleeting dream of knowing what it was like to love someone, to have a home to return to, even if it had always been doomed to end.

         Feeling a pang of finality, Kim Dokja unblocked Yoo Joonghyuk's number. He wanted to say goodbye, just once, for the last time. He didn’t know if he would ever come back, or if he even wanted to. It wasn’t like Yoo Joonghyuk would care, but a message wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t expecting a reply.

         But the moment he sent the text, his phone rang. 

         Kim Dokja froze, staring at the screen. The number that flashed across it was unmistakable—Yoo Joonghyuk. Why was he calling? Was there something wrong with the cheque? Did something happen? 

         For a moment, he hesitated. Why now?

         Panic surged in Kim Dokja’s chest, tightening around his heart. Was something wrong with Yoo Joonghyuk? Had there been an accident? He wasted no time answering the call, his pulse racing as he heard Yoo Joonghyuk’s laboured breathing on the other end. His worry spiked—what had happened? The man had already struggled so much just to find some normalcy again. 

         Before he could voice his concern, Yoo Joonghyuk spoke, his voice low but urgent, “Kim Dokja, where are you? I want to see you.”

         Kim Dokja blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve misheard. Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to see him? Why now? 

         But before he could process it, Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice broke through again, raw and desperate, “Kim Dokja, don’t leave—don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like she did.”

         Kim Dokja felt his heart plummet into an abyss. What was Yoo Joonghyuk saying? He stood there, paralyzed, trying to make sense of the words that stabbed at his chest. The pain, the vulnerability in Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice—it was too real, too overwhelming. 

         “I don’t want the money. It’s yours. I don’t want any of it,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his voice trembling. “I just want you.”

         This was madness. Kim Dokja’s mind reeled. Could it really be true? Or was this some cruel twist of fate, dangling hope in front of him only to snatch it away again? His chest tightened, fear gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Was he imagining it? Was this just some illusion spun from his longing?

         But no—he could still feel the weight of his luggage in his hand, the noise of the bustling airport crowd grounding him in reality. He remembered pulling his bag back, walking out of the airport, disbelief clouding his every step. 

         Fifteen minutes later, there stood a tall figure outside, one that Kim Dokja could never mistake, waiting for him.

         Yoo Joonghyuk had come.

         Yoo Joonghyuk searched for Kim Dokja with a desperate urgency that spoke volumes. When their eyes finally met, he sprinted forward, enveloping Kim Dokja in a tight embrace that nearly stole his breath away. It was as if Yoo Joonghyuk feared that if he let go even for a moment, Kim Dokja would vanish from his life once again.

         Kim Dokja could feel the warmth of Yoo Joonghyuk’s tears soaking into his shoulder, each tremor of his breath a testament to the fear that had gripped him. In that moment, Kim Dokja realised just how scared Yoo Joonghyuk truly was—a vulnerability he had never witnessed before. Even through the gruelling struggles of physical therapy, when Yoo Joonghyuk had fallen countless times, he had always remained resolute, lifting his head high, refusing to show weakness.

         “Don’t leave,” Yoo Joonghyuk pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

         A wistful smile crept onto Kim Dokja's lips. No, he would not leave. Not this time. Not ever again.

         That night, they returned home and made love for the first time. While it wasn’t their first encounter, this time was different. This time, Kim Dokja truly felt the depth of Yoo Joonghyuk’s love. It was evident that Yoo Joonghyuk was sincere in his words, ready to build a new life together, free from the shadows of their pasts. Yoo Joonghyuk had finally let go of his search for Lee Seolhwa, and her name had become a sacred taboo—one that neither of them dared to utter.

         In fact, it was Yoo Joonghyuk himself who had placed that unspoken rule upon them. Not out of hatred, but because he wanted to sever all ties with that part of his life. Kim Dokja was now his only present and future; nothing else mattered to him anymore.

         Yoo Joonghyuk returned the cheque slip to Kim Dokja, insisting that he deserved it for all the struggles he had faced on his behalf. Kim Dokja tried to refuse it time and again, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s stubbornness prevailed. Finally, he accepted it back, vowing to himself that he would save it for the future—one filled with hope and possibilities. In his heart, he knew he would keep that promise.

         The second year with Yoo Joonghyuk unfolded in a way that was entirely different from the first. He began to treat Kim Dokja with a tenderness that spoke volumes—a devotion that seemed to shield Kim Dokja from even the smallest grievances. This time, it was Yoo Joonghyuk who took the initiative to care for Kim Dokja in every possible way. He would wake up early each morning, showering Kim Dokja with gentle kisses, and prepare coffee and breakfast to start their day on a joyful note. He delighted in cooking Kim Dokja’s favourite dishes, making every effort to bring a smile to his face. And he did all of this with a happiness that radiated from his very core.

         For the first time in a long while, Yoo Joonghyuk found the courage to admit that he was genuinely happy. He relished in the sight of Kim Dokja's smiles, in their playful teasing, and in the warmth that filled their shared moments. Happiness was no longer a distant fantasy; it felt real, tangible to the fairy tales he once read. Yoo Joonghyuk was confident that the shadows of his past would soon fade completely.

         Yet, as fate would have it, it never forgets.

         Because fate brought him back to the person he wanted to forget the most. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk encountered Lee Seolhwa once more, and of all the places on earth, it was during a short getaway with Kim Dokja. The moment he spotted her, memories flooded back—memories of a time when they were in love, lost in the bliss of youthful naivety. Lee Seolhwa appeared unchanged, embodying the gentle breeze that brushed against the golden sand, her elegance reminiscent of the calm ocean waves he once cherished. 

         But now, those waves that used to soothe him only stirred a tempest in his heart. What was this turmoil? Was it possible that, despite everything, he still harboured feelings for her after all this time? The memories of her abandonment, the uncertainty of her departure, clawed at him. Yoo Joonghyuk felt the weight of the past he had desperately tried to bury, a stark reminder that it lingered just beneath the surface. 

         Because fate never forgets.

         How could he explain the sweat on his palms as he watched her walk beside another man? How could he justify the way his heart raced at the sound of her soft laughter? It didn’t add up. He had painstakingly convinced himself that he had moved on, yet the urge to look away from her was inexplicably absent. Her presence cast a shadow over the crowded resort, and the guilt of still harbouring feelings for her gnawed at him, especially when he thought of Kim Dokja.

         They were supposed to be enjoying their vacation, yet Yoo Joonghyuk felt an unsettling weight in his chest. Restlessness settled in as he wrestled with the guilt of still thinking about Lee Seolhwa while Kim Dokja was by his side, blissfully unaware of his turmoil. Torn between loyalty and the haunting echoes of his past, Yoo Joonghyuk made a decision: he needed to confront this feeling head-on.

         Without Kim Dokja knowing, he trailed Lee Seolhwa, waiting for the right moment to speak to her in private. When he finally approached her, her surprise was evident, but unlike him, she maintained her composure. 

         “Yoo Joonghyuk,” she greeted, her voice steady. 

         He invited her for a cup of coffee, the tension palpable between them. The familiar scent of the café filled the air, and as they sat down, he felt a whirlwind of emotions clash within him. What did he want to achieve with this conversation? Was it closure, clarity, or simply a way to satiate the questions that plagued him? He needed to understand what this feeling inside him truly meant.

         “It’s been a long time,” Lee Seolhwa finally broke the silence, her tone calm. “How are you, Jonghyuk-ssi?”

         She addressed him formally, a clear indication of how far apart they had become. Yoo Joonghyuk felt the weight of her words but managed a curt, “I’m fine.”

         An awkward silence fell between them, stretching uncomfortably as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he spoke up, “Do you have anything to say to me?”

         Lee Seolhwa seemed startled by his directness. In her memory, Yoo Joonghyuk had always been kind, never harsh. But she couldn’t complain—after all, it was her choice that had led to this moment. She lowered her gaze and shook her head with a tentative smile. No, she had nothing to say.

         Yoo Joonghyuk waited, the silence stretching painfully. A sigh escaped him as he processed the lack of response. That’s it? No remorse? No regret? He swallowed hard, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You left me a year ago,” he pressed, the question heavy on his heart. “May I know why?”

         Lee Seolhwa lifted her face, a soft smile playing on her lips, but it felt more like a mask than an expression of genuine warmth. “Does it matter now?”

         Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, the question echoing in his mind. Yes, did it still matter? A part of him desperately wanted to understand her reasons, to grasp the shattered pieces of their past. Yet another part of him wondered if he was simply clinging to a ghost, a chapter he was meant to leave behind.

         “For whatever the reason that time, it won’t change the fact that I left you. I’m sorry to say this, Joonghyuk-ssi.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk clenched his jaw, aware that she wasn’t wrong. The reality of her words settled over him like a heavy fog, obscuring the clarity he had sought in their conversation. “But if you have to know, perhaps because I was not happy.”

         “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

         “Never. Please don’t think like that. You’re a good boyfriend, Joonghyuk-ssi,” she replied, her tone earnest but detached. “I chose the wrong word. It wasn’t because I was not happy; I was happy. But in that moment, I realised very well that I would be even happier if I chose to go after my dream rather than staying back.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Her words sliced through him, and he found himself grappling with an overwhelming mix of emotions. “But at least, you could have said goodbye to me rather than leaving without any message,” he said, a hint of hurt seeping into his tone.

         Lee Seolhwa looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cup. “Joonghyuk-ssi, I may be selfish, but that time, I decided to leave without telling you because somehow I knew I could never leave if I told you. Knowing your personality, you’d do whatever it takes to hold me. You’d promise me my happiness if I stayed with you, but both you and I know very well happiness is in our own hands.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk clenched his fists, feeling the sting of her words. She was right. He would have fought tooth and nail to keep her if he had known.

         “I have no right to demand happiness from you,” Lee Seolhwa continued, her voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “I have to find my own happiness with my own strength. That was why I had to harden my heart and leave without turning back. Still, I sincerely hope you’ll forget me and find someone new and better to be by your side.”

         “What if I can’t? What if I can’t forget you?” he asked, his voice cracking.

         “Joonghyuk-ssi, be honest with me. You’ve found that person, haven’t you?”

         He fell silent, grappling with the weight of her question. How did she know?

         “You’re not the same person I knew anymore, Joonghyuk-ssi,” she said, her smile widening. “You are… happier .”

         Happier. The word echoed in his mind like a haunting melody. It was true; he felt lighter, more alive than he had in years. But her acknowledgment of his happiness sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over him. Tears began to flow, spilling down his cheeks as the reality of their conversation sunk in. Yes, she was right.

         “I can tell from your face that you’re happier now, Joonghyuk-ssi,” she said softly. “And I’m glad I made that decision to leave you.”

         After that conversation, there were no more words left to exchange. Lee Seolhwa briefly shared how her life had unfolded since she left. She had married, travelled to places in need of her medical expertise alongside her husband, and built the life she had always dreamed of. Listening to her speak, Yoo Joonghyuk could tell that this was the happiness she had always pursued, the one she had chosen over their relationship.

         Yet, as she told her story, Yoo Joonghyuk felt nothing—no jealousy, no resentment, no lingering attachment. It was as if he were listening to an old friend recounting their journey after years of separation. For the first time, he realised that whatever had once bound them was no longer there. And for that, Yoo Joonghyuk could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

         The storm that had once raged in his heart, the confusion and doubt, had been nothing more than guilt—guilt towards Kim Dokja. He had been afraid of betraying the man he loved, afraid of hurting him with the unresolved feelings from his past. But now, as he stood at the crossroads of his old and new life, he knew the truth: his heart was no longer tethered to the past.

         Yoo Joonghyuk decided, in the end, not to tell Kim Dokja about the encounter. It wasn’t because he wanted to hide anything or deceive him, but because the meeting with Lee Seolhwa had resolved nothing that needed to be shared. It was simply a chapter closing, and he wanted to focus on the present with Kim Dokja. He didn’t want to drag old memories into their fresh start.

         And so, when he returned to Kim Dokja's side, they resumed their vacation as if nothing had happened. Yoo Joonghyuk put the past behind him, and for the rest of their time together, he dedicated himself fully to Kim Dokja. It was their moment, and Yoo Joonghyuk intended to make the most of it. Little that Yoo Joonghyuk knew, Kim Dokja had met Lee Seolhwa, and he also didn’t tell Yoo Joonghyuk about it. 

         "Are you going to marry him?" Lee Seolhwa’s final question echoed in Yoo Joonghyuk's mind as they parted ways. During their conversation, he had revealed that he had found someone to share his life with—a companion, not only in life but also in death.

         Yoo Joonghyuk had never been more certain of anything in his life when he responded, with unwavering conviction, “Yes.”

         Lee Seolhwa’s smile widened as she stepped forward and embraced him, not as a former lover, but as someone who had once deeply cared for him. Despite the distance that now separated them, it was clear that her concern for his well-being had not entirely faded. In that brief moment, they acknowledged the part they had played in each other's lives.

         "I wish you all the best then," she said, her voice warm and genuine.

         As Yoo Joonghyuk watched her walk away, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. The past no longer had a hold on him. He had closed that chapter with no regrets, ready to embrace the future fully with Kim Dokja. He didn’t even ask Lee Seolhwa for her number. It was time to move forward, to live a life not haunted by memories, but driven by the love he had now. A life that, soon enough, would lead to him asking the most important question of all—whether Kim Dokja would marry him, too. 

         We all know how the rest of the story goes. How, a year later, Yoo Joonghyuk, with trembling excitement, proposed to Kim Dokja after they discovered they were expecting a child. It was the pinnacle of his life—a chance to rewrite his story, to erase the scars of his past and begin anew with the person he loved more than anything.

         But there’s always one cruel truth we often overlook: no matter how desperately we try to bury the past, to lock it away in forgotten corners of our minds, it never truly fades. The past doesn’t vanish simply because we refuse to acknowledge it. The past doesn’t vanish simply because we want to forget about it. It lingers, quiet but unyielding, a shadow that clings to us even when we want to believe we’ve broken free.

         Yoo Joonghyuk believed he could escape it, that his future with Kim Dokja would be untouched by the ghosts of what came before. But the truth is, the past is never really gone. It stays, etched into our memories, woven into our being. We may choose not to speak of it, not to look back, but it doesn’t mean it ceases to exist.

         And that’s the hardest part—fate never forgets.

         No matter how much Yoo Joonghyuk tried to bury his past, it clung to him like a stubborn shadow. And when tragedy struck again, it dragged him back to the very memories he had fought so hard to forget. He found himself standing once more in the wreckage of the day he lost Lee Seolhwa, erasing every thought of the one he should have loved—Kim Dokja. 

         It was a cruel twist of fate, yet it happened. And now the lingering question remained: was it too late? Now that his lost memories had come rushing back, was it too late to fix the damage he'd caused?

‘You’d better forget any thought of coming back. Even if my memories return, I’m certain they’re nothing but bad ones—memories that should never have existed. Memories I need to erase.’

         Those were the last words he had spoken to Kim Dokja, and now they haunted him, echoing in his mind like a relentless curse. Each time those words resurfaced, the weight of remorse crushed him from within. How could he have said something so cruel? How could he have pushed away the person who loved him, who stood by him, with such bitter finality? He had cursed Kim Dokja, vowing never to see him again, not realising that those words would be the sharpest dagger he'd ever wielded—one aimed at his own heart.

         Stupid, stupid Yoo Joonghyuk.

         No matter how many times he cursed himself, no matter how deeply he regretted his actions, it couldn’t undo the damage he had caused. The only way to fix this mess was to find Kim Dokja. He would beg for forgiveness, even if he had to fall to his knees. He would try anything—everything—to make things right again. But saying it was far easier than doing it. He had searched for Kim Dokja everywhere, desperately combing through every trace, every shadow, yet he found nothing. Kim Dokja had vanished, as if he had been swallowed by thin air.

         For the first time, Yoo Joonghyuk understood true despair. It gripped him tightly, suffocating him with the weight of his own helplessness. He was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. He had no more strength to keep going. But even then, his mind refused to let him stop. The need to find Kim Dokja forced him to press on, even when he had nothing left to give. He had no choice.

         Weeks passed with no sign of Kim Dokja. Every lead turned cold, and with each passing day, Yoo Joonghyuk sank deeper into despair. Jung Heewon had been doing everything she could to help, but even she was running out of options. They had exhausted every possible lead—except for one. 

         Han Sooyoung.

         Jung Heewon only knew Han Sooyoung from the stories Kim Dokja had told her, brief anecdotes about his best friend. She remembered Kim Dokja saying Han Sooyoung was an author, and not just any author—she was famous, even writing screenplays for blockbuster films. On several occasions, Kim Dokja had met with her to help proofread her work. If anyone knew where Kim Dokja was, it would be her.

         Determined, Jung Heewon began pulling every string she had. After days of searching, she finally uncovered Han Sooyoung’s pseudonym, TLS123, and managed to find her email. It was a shot in the dark, but she sent her a message, hoping for some kind of response. If this failed, she wasn’t sure what more they could do.

         To her surprise, Han Sooyoung replied—and she agreed to meet.

         It was the first spark of hope in weeks.

         Jung Heewon immediately informed Yoo Joonghyuk about the meeting, urging him to accompany her. She felt uneasy bringing Yoo Joonghyuk along without first notifying Han Sooyoung, but something in her gut insisted that Yoo Joonghyuk needed to find Kim Dokja—before it was too late.

         Too late? The thought unsettled her. Too late for what?

         Whatever it was, she pushed the thought aside. The day of the meeting arrived, and rain poured heavily outside, drenching the streets in a melancholic haze. But neither Jung Heewon nor Yoo Joonghyuk had any intention of cancelling. The weight of the meeting was too great to ignore. 

         Inside the café, the atmosphere was tense. Yoo Joonghyuk, uncharacteristically anxious, fidgeted with the rim of his coffee cup, his fingers trembling slightly. Jung Heewon watched him out of the corner of her eye, sighing softly. They had been sitting there for ten minutes, neither of them daring to speak beyond their initial coffee order. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken worries and lingering regret. 

         Yoo Joonghyuk's restlessness only deepened with each passing second, his eyes darting toward the door every time it creaked open, hoping—yet dreading—that Han Sooyoung would finally arrive.

         "Okay, let's not beat around the bush," Han Sooyoung said bluntly as she slid into her chair. Her eyes were sharp, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "I know you're not actually here for me. You're looking for him, aren't you?"

         Yoo Joonghyuk's head snapped up, his gaze locked onto Han Sooyoung. His heart pounded, a desperate hope rising in his chest. "Do you know where he is?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

         Han Sooyoung didn’t answer right away. Instead, she smirked, leaning back in her seat. "What makes you think I’d tell you?" Her words, though calm, carried the weight of accusation, and Yoo Joonghyuk felt a knot tighten in his throat.

         He choked on his response, guilt flooding him. Of course, Han Sooyoung knew what had happened between him and Kim Dokja. How could she not? And he couldn’t blame her for keeping Kim Dokja's whereabouts hidden. After everything—the cruel words, the betrayal—he had no right to ask anything of her. But still—"Please," his voice broke, the weight of his remorse dragging the words from him. "Please... I need to find him. I want to beg for his forgiveness—"

         Han Sooyoung cut him off sharply. "So, you remember everything."

         Yoo Joonghyuk swallowed hard, his shame palpable. Yes, he remembered. Every word. Every mistake. Every moment of heartbreak he had caused Kim Dokja.

         "Too bad," Han Sooyoung sighed, leaning forward, her eyes dark with something close to pity. "He won’t remember anything about you."

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s stomach dropped. "What do you mean?" he asked, panic seeping into his voice.

         Han Sooyoung’s gaze was cold, almost resigned. "He was pregnant. Do you know that?"

         Of course he knew. He had seen the sonogram of their child, felt the tremor of awe and fear at the thought of becoming a father. But... was ? A terrible chill swept over him.

         "Kim Dokja had a miscarriage," Han Sooyoung said, her words slicing through the air like a blade.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s world stopped. The weight of those words crushed him, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Miscarriage ? He felt his chest tighten, every fibre of his being rejecting the truth he had just heard.

         As Han Sooyoung spoke, a loud thunderclap tore through the café, briefly flooding the room with white light. It was as if the universe itself recoiled at her words. Yoo Joonghyuk sat frozen, staring at her in disbelief. No, it couldn’t be true. The sonogram had been perfect, the heartbeat strong. Han Sooyoung had to be lying, manipulating him to keep him away from Kim Dokja, to make him feel the kind of guilt that would tear him apart. Their baby had been fine. Kim Dokja had been fine—

         “He was so stressed when you made him leave,” Han Sooyoung’s voice cut through his frantic thoughts like ice, dragging him back to the present. “He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat properly. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He barely had the strength to walk some days. He slipped on the stairs and suffered a massive bleeding. He lost consciousness.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands clenched around his coffee cup, his knuckles white. He couldn’t bear to hear any more, but Han Sooyoung didn’t stop. Those words echoed like a death sentence, ripping through him again and again. He had done this. He had driven Kim Dokja to the edge, pushed him into a spiral of exhaustion and despair. Every harsh word, every cold look, every moment of distance between them—he had pushed Kim Dokja to the brink, and now their child was gone.

         “I wasn’t with him when it happened," she continued, her tone bitter with regret. "By the time I got him to the hospital, it was already too late to save the baby.”

         Her words hung in the air, suffocating him. Yoo Joonghyuk felt as though the world had shifted under his feet, collapsing into an abyss where all his worst fears lay waiting. His heart pounded painfully, each beat a reminder of how wrong he had been, how deeply he had hurt the one person he swore to protect. And now... their child was gone, lost forever because of him. 

         It was indeed too late.

         Han Sooyoung struggled to keep her voice steady, but the tremor in her words betrayed her. As she recounted the tragedy, the memory of despair etched deeply into Kim Dokja's eyes when he learned of the loss haunted her. It was a silent scream that echoed in her mind—a pain far too overwhelming to bear. 

         “Kim Dokja was consumed by desperation when he woke up to the harsh reality of losing his child. I did everything I could to comfort him, to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. I thought I had succeeded—” Her voice cracked, and the tears she had been holding back cascaded down her cheeks. “But when I stepped out to handle things at the hospital… he opened the window and jumped.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes widened in disbelief, and Jung Heewon gasped, the sound cutting through the air like a blade. Kim Dokja— 

         “He wanted to end his own life.”

         In that moment, the world around Yoo Joonghyuk fell silent. Time felt suspended, as if the very fabric of reality had unravelled at the revelation. Kim Dokja had chosen to end it all… How desperate must he have been to commit such an irreversible act? And it was his actions that had driven Kim Dokja to the brink, pushing him off the edge of a precipice he could no longer bear. He was the one who had caused their child’s death, and now he was also the reason Kim Dokja had sought to escape the pain altogether. He was unforgivable. Tears streamed down his face, unrelenting and heavy, mirroring the relentless rain pounding against the windows outside. 

         “But you know what?” Han Sooyoung continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “He didn’t die.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk's brow furrowed in confusion. Did he hear her correctly?  

         “He jumped from the sixth floor, but perhaps the gods had other plans for him. He survived.”  

         A whirlwind of emotions swirled within him. “How— how is he now?”  

         “He’s fine,” Han Sooyoung replied, her tone unyielding. “His life is getting better now.”  

         “Can I— can I see him?” Hope surged within Yoo Joonghyuk, fragile yet persistent.  

         “What for?” Han Sooyoung shot back, her eyes narrowing. “If I recall correctly, you once told him you didn’t need him anymore. You’ve reunited with your first love, after all. You tossed him aside like garbage. Why would you want to see him again? What makes you think you deserve to?”  

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart sank at her words. “I— I remember everything. You’re right; I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve him. But please, just give me a chance to see him. I want to apologise; I want to make things right between us again. We— we’re getting married—”  

         “Enough with this nonsense,” Han Sooyoung interrupted, raising her hand to silence Yoo Joonghyuk. “Like I said, he won’t remember anything about you. And honestly, that’s for the best. Let him forget about you the way you forgot about him.”  

         “Please, Han Sooyoung-ssi, I’m begging you. Just let me see him. I— I need him.”  

         “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m lying when I say he won’t remember anything about you?”  

         Yoo Joonghyuk's heart sank. “I understand. After everything I’ve done, he wouldn’t want to remember me. I’m despicable, I know. But I still need him. Just let me see him.”  

         A heavy silence enveloped them before Han Sooyoung finally relented. “Fine, then. If you must, come here.” She pulled a business card from her bag and handed it to him. It was a hospital card, complete with an address. “Kim Dokja is staying here right now. You can visit him tomorrow at 2 PM. I’ll be there as well.”  

         Yoo Joonghyuk exhaled in relief, hope flickering back to life within him. “I’ll come. I’ll be there.”  

         Han Sooyoung didn’t respond; she simply nodded and turned to leave, her heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty. She could only hope that Yoo Joonghyuk could accept the harsh reality when they met again.

* * *

         The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic clung to every breath Yoo Joonghyuk took as he stepped into the hospital. With each step, the weight of what lay before him grew heavier, the dread curling tighter around his chest. It had been weeks since he had last seen Kim Dokja, and now, with the reunion looming, it felt like an invisible force was pressing down on him, making it harder to breathe.

         Behind him, Han Sooyoung followed quietly, her expression unreadable—a mask of sympathy laced with caution. She hadn’t wanted to bring him here, not after everything that had happened. But she had given in. Yes, perhaps there was no undoing the past, no easy way to piece together the fragments of their broken lives. Yet, deep down, a part of her clung to the fragile hope that this meeting might bring some closure, however faint.

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice broke the silence, strained and barely above a whisper. "Where is he?"

         Han Sooyoung nodded toward a room in the far corner, her tone distant, almost as if she were trying to shield herself from the sadness that was sure to follow. "He's there." She hesitated, her voice softening as she added, “Just— prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.”

         Yoo Joonghyuk took a deep breath, steadying himself as the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on him. Han Sooyoung was right—he needed to be prepared. After everything he had done, there was a very real possibility that Kim Dokja wouldn’t want to forgive him. The thought sent a wave of desperation through his chest. 

         What would he do if Kim Dokja refused to accept his apology? If he rejected him entirely, what then? Should he just walk away and let Kim Dokja go? The mere idea made Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart tighten painfully. He knew he couldn’t do that. He had sworn that in life and death, they would stay together. That was their promise, their unbreakable bond. And deep down, Yoo Joonghyuk knew he couldn’t live without Kim Dokja—he was the only one who held the answers Yoo Joonghyuk had been seeking for so long, the only one who made life bearable.

         Han Sooyoung led him through the empty halls, taking him to the most isolated ward on the sixth floor. The desolation of the place was unnerving. The silence hung thick, broken only by the sound of their footsteps echoing in the corridor. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sense of dread growing with every inch they moved closer. Yoo Joonghyuk had faced countless dangers in his life, confronted death itself more times than he could count—but this… This was different. This fear was raw, gripping him like a prisoner awaiting his final sentence.

         They stopped in front of a plain, unassuming door at the end of the hall. Han Sooyoung paused for a moment, glancing at Yoo Joonghyuk as if to give him one last chance to brace himself. 

         “We’re here,” she said softly, and with that, she pushed the door open.

         The moment stretched unbearably as Yoo Joonghyuk stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat as he faced what he feared most.

         In the far corner of the room, a single bed was illuminated by the soft afternoon light filtering through the window. And there, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, was a figure Yoo Joonghyuk recognized instantly. His heart raced. It was him—

         Kim Dokja. 

         The man he had been searching for, the one to whom he owed everything. Yoo Joonghyuk’s pulse quickened with hope and dread, an overwhelming sense of relief washing over him. 

         Kim Dokja was here. Alive.

         But as Yoo Joonghyuk took a few tentative steps forward, the relief that had bloomed in his chest began to wither. There was something wrong, something distant about the way Kim Dokja stared out the window. He seemed so detached, as if the world outside was far more important than the one within this room. A chill crept down Yoo Joonghyuk’s spine. He stopped just a few feet from the bed, the air between them thick with unsaid words and unspoken fears.

         “Kim Dokja…” he whispered.

         Kim Dokja slowly turned, and when their eyes finally met, the emptiness in his gaze shattered the remnants of hope Yoo Joonghyuk had clung to. The connection he had once felt, the familiarity, the love—it was all gone. Kim Dokja looked at him with a distant, almost hollow expression, as though Yoo Joonghyuk was a complete stranger.

         Sitting up slowly, Kim Dokja’s brow furrowed in confusion, the softness of his voice barely breaking through the sterile quiet.

         “Who are you?”

         Those three simple words hit Yoo Joonghyuk like a crushing blow to the chest, stealing the air from his lungs. He had replayed this moment in his mind countless times, imagining it as the beginning of reconciliation, a chance to right the wrongs between them. But now, faced with the stark emptiness in Kim Dokja’s eyes, the moment felt twisted, surreal. This—this couldn’t be happening. Was Kim Dokja denying him?

         Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips parted, but no words emerged. He was frozen, a storm of confusion and disbelief swirling in his mind. Was this real? Could it be true? Or was Kim Dokja trying to deceive him, to create distance, to escape from the wreckage of their past?

         Han Sooyoung, watching the devastating exchange, stepped forward, her own heart heavy with the weight of what had been lost. “Kim Dokja lost his memory because of the fall,” she said softly, her voice thick with the unspoken sorrow that filled the room.

         Yoo Joonghyuk felt the world truly stop then, as if everything around him had come to a standstill. The air grew suffocating, the walls closing in as the reality settled in his chest like a stone. 

         Kim Dokja, the person he loved, the one who held all the answers to the pain he had carried, no longer remembered him. 

         This was his fate.

TO BE CONTINUED~

Chapter Text

        "Who are you?"

        The repeated question struck Yoo Joonghyuk like a second blow, deeper and more painful than the first. The words echoed in his mind, unravelling the fragile hope he had clung to. It felt unreal, like a dream—no, more like a nightmare, one he couldn't wake from. How could this be happening? How could Kim Dokja, the person who had once meant everything to him, have forgotten him completely?

        Was this his karma? 

        Had all the pain he inflicted, all the times he had pushed Kim Dokja away, finally come back to haunt him? The thought weighed heavily, suffocating him. Kim Dokja’s empty gaze felt like a punishment—a silent sentence for every wrong he had committed.

* * *

        Kim Dokja didn’t remember it too well. Why was he here? The world around him felt like an endless void, as if everything he once knew had paused and reset itself. But strangely, he didn’t mind. The silence that now enveloped him was unlike anything he had ever experienced—a peaceful stillness that calmed the turmoil he used to carry. He could vaguely recall the voices that once echoed in the corners of his mind, urging him to stop, telling him that nothing he did mattered, that there was no point in continuing. But now, those voices were gone.

        When he opened his eyes, the sterile, clinical brightness of a hospital room greeted him. The soft light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bed. He noticed the IV drip hanging beside him, the sterile lamps, and the gauze wrapped around his head when he absentmindedly raised his hand to touch it. 

        A young woman stood by his bedside, her eyes wide with surprise. How long had he been asleep? He couldn’t recall, but it didn’t seem like it had been a short time. 

        "Kim Dokja! Finally, you're awake!" 

        Her voice trembled, laced with worry. He could hear the relief in her tone, yet everything felt distant, like he was floating in a haze. And as he looked at her, he found that he couldn’t understand why he was here or even why she carried such weight in her voice.

        "What happened?" Kim Dokja’s voice was soft, confusion clouding his gaze as he looked up at the woman standing by his bed.

        Han Sooyoung froze for a moment, her expression flickering with something close to disbelief. "You... don’t remember?" she asked cautiously.

        Kim Dokja shook his head, glancing down at himself. The gauze wrapped tightly around his head, the cast immobilising his right leg—he pieced together the most logical conclusion. "Did I have an accident?" he asked, his tone neutral but distant, as if the truth hadn’t quite settled in yet.

        Han Sooyoung’s breath hitched. "You really don’t remember?" Her voice was almost a whisper, tinged with an emotion Kim Dokja couldn’t place.

        He frowned slightly. "Han Sooyoung, do you really think I’m lying?"

        She hesitated, searching his face. "But... you remember me, right?"

        Kim Dokja blinked at her, slightly puzzled. It was such a strange question. How bad had the accident been for Han Sooyoung—his lifetime best friend—to even think he could forget her? The thought seemed absurd. Of course he remembered her—the one who constantly played tricks on him, slipping wasabi into his sushi or replacing his coffee with Coke, just to hear him gasp in surprise. She was the same person who hid his homework right before deadlines, who travelled halfway across the world just to spend his birthdays with him, only to demand an extravagant dinner that nearly drained his bank account.

        "Han Sooyoung," he said, his tone softening, "are you joking? You’re the only friend I have in this life. How could I forget you?"

        His words should’ve brought relief, but Han Sooyoung’s face remained tense, shadows of something deeper passing over her features.

        Kim Dokja waited for Han Sooyoung to snap back with one of her usual snarky remarks, maybe even smack his injured arm and laugh the whole thing off. But instead, her shoulders trembled, and before he knew it, tears started spilling down her face. He blinked in surprise. Was the accident really that bad? He was still alive, wasn’t he?

        “Kim Dokja...” Han Sooyoung’s voice wavered, thick with emotion. “Tell me... what’s the last thing you remember?”

        Her question made him frown in concentration, though the effort sent a dull throb pulsing through his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to push past the headache. After a moment, fragments of his last memories started to piece together. “I remember... taking a taxi home instead of the subway. It was raining, and I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to get home as soon as possible.” His gaze flickered to her, searching her face for confirmation. "So... did the taxi crash? Is that why I’m here?"

        Han Sooyoung’s expression twisted painfully, but she didn’t respond immediately. Kim Dokja’s mind raced, trying to bridge the gap in his memory. He didn’t recall the accident itself, only the cold sensation of waking up here, in this unfamiliar hospital room. "Because I honestly don’t remember anything after that," he added, confusion and unease gnawing at him.

        Han Sooyoung remained silent, her tears falling faster now, and it was then that a deep, unsettling feeling began to creep over him. Something was very, very wrong. Her voice was barely a whisper when she finally asked, “Do you remember anything about Yoo Joonghyuk?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk?

        The name stirred vague memories. “Of course, I do,” Kim Dokja replied slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “He was a famous student in our college, wasn’t he?” But why was she asking about him now? “Why are you bringing him up all of a sudden?” His thoughts jumped to the worst. "Wait... did you meet him here? Does he have something to do with my accident?"

        It sounded ridiculous, but Han Sooyoung’s insistence made him uneasy. She was hiding something, something bigger than he could grasp right now. Was Yoo Joonghyuk somehow involved? It didn’t make sense, but why else would she be asking?

        Han Sooyoung’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do you really not remember anything else about Yoo Joonghyuk? Anything at all, beyond that he was just another student we went to college with?”

        Kim Dokja blinked, his confusion growing deeper. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?” His voice wavered with frustration. "Why does it matter how much I know about him?"

        Her stare was penetrating, desperate, as if trying to pull something from him that he couldn’t see. “How much do you remember about him, Kim Dokja?” she asked again, this time more urgently, like she was grasping at straws.

        Kim Dokja’s frown deepened. What was she trying to imply? Why dig up the past when he was in this... this fog? “Han Sooyoung, I don’t understand what you’re getting at. Fine, I’ll admit—I had a crush on him back when we were younger. But that’s it. I never got the chance to know him personally, and honestly... I don’t even remember his face.”

        The silence that followed was deafening. Han Sooyoung’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with disbelief and something that looked an awful lot like pain. Kim Dokja could see her hands trembling slightly. 

        Kim Dokja frowned, the odd realisation dawned on him. Why couldn’t he remember Yoo Joonghyuk’s face? It was strange. Yoo Joonghyuk had once been his crush—surely, someone like that should be etched into his memory, right? But as hard as he tried, all that came to mind was a vague, blurry outline. 

        Had too much time passed? Was it normal to forget someone’s face after over a decade? Maybe he was just overthinking. That had to be it. He convinced himself it was normal. After all, memories faded with time, didn’t they? 

        Right? 

        Right.

        But still, something about it unsettled him.

        And now, after spending more than a month in this hospital ward, out of nowhere, a man—tall, handsome, and striking—had come to visit him. A stranger, or so Kim Dokja thought. He didn’t recognize him at all. But the way the man looked at him, with such intensity and sadness, made it clear that he knew Kim Dokja. Deeply. Intimately.

        Kim Dokja didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking the anguish in the man’s eyes. It was as though his mere presence was both a gift and a curse, like seeing someone you’d longed for but couldn’t reach. Why was this man so upset? His confusion deepened as he stared at the man in front of him. His gaze swept over the stranger, searching for something—anything—that might trigger a memory, but nothing came.

        "Excuse me, who are you?" he asked again, hoping for some clarity.

        The man’s expression shifted, his shock obvious, as if those words had struck him like a physical blow. His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, he seemed frozen.

        “You— you don’t remember me?” the man’s voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he was desperately trying to hold back.

        Kim Dokja frowned harder, struggling to make sense of the situation. He stared at the man’s face with more focus, trying to dig through the fog of his memory, but it was no use. There was nothing there. Did he truly know this man? There was a vague familiarity, a nagging feeling that this person was important, but it was like grasping at smoke. He glanced over at Han Sooyoung, who stood silently behind the man, her face a carefully blank mask. He wanted to ask her, to get some kind of confirmation—had he really known this man before?

        Finally, Han Sooyoung broke the silence. Her voice was soft, almost resigned, as she said, “I’ve told you… he doesn’t remember anything about you.”

        Doesn’t remember.

        “You’re the only one he doesn’t remember.” 

        The only one.

        Yoo Joonghyuk stood frozen, the weight of the moment crushing him. He wanted to shout, to demand how this could even be possible, but the bitter truth gnawed at him. He had experienced something similar himself, losing fragments of his memory, so he knew he had no right to question Han Sooyoung’s words. She wasn’t lying, and deep down, he understood that.

        Before he could even gather himself to react, Han Sooyoung moved swiftly, pressing the call button by Kim Dokja’s bedside. 

        Kim Dokja, noticing the growing tension, felt a sinking realisation settle in his chest. Something was definitely wrong. He didn’t feel any different, aside from the throbbing pain in his arm and a faint wave of nausea, but seeing the unfamiliar man’s deep frown—so intense it seemed like he could crush flies with his stare—Kim Dokja decided it was best to remain silent. He didn't want to agitate the situation any further.

        A few moments later, the door creaked open, and a man in a white coat stepped into the room. His quick, deliberate movements and the sombre look on his face heightened the suffocating tension that had been quietly simmering. The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

        “I figured you wouldn’t take my word for it,” Han Sooyoung murmured, her voice tight with unspoken emotion. She glanced at the doctor. “Doctor, could you explain the situation to him? He needs to understand what’s happened to my friend.”

        The doctor hesitated, his silence drawing out before he spoke carefully. “Perhaps we should discuss this outside? The patient needs his rest.” His gaze flickered over to Kim Dokja, offering a subtle nod.

        Neither Han Sooyoung nor Yoo Joonghyuk argued. Wordlessly, they followed the doctor out, leaving Kim Dokja behind, his eyes filled with confusion as he watched them disappear through the door. The unease in the room seemed to linger, leaving Kim Dokja with a sense of growing isolation he couldn’t quite shake.

        It didn’t take long for them to reach the doctor’s office, where he gestured for them to sit. Once seated, he handed a stack of medical reports to Yoo Joonghyuk, his voice calm but sombre. "Physically, there’s nothing majorly wrong with him, aside from some injuries from the incident. We’ve been monitoring Kim Dokja-ssi closely, and based on his responses, we’ve concluded that he’s suffering from partial memory loss."

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart sank. Partial memory loss? It echoed eerily of his own past—was Kim Dokja now experiencing the same torment?

        The doctor continued, "His memory seems to have stopped at a point three years ago. He doesn’t recall anything beyond that. When we asked him questions, like what year it is, he answered as if it’s still three years in the past."

        Yoo Joonghyuk swallowed hard. Three years ago—before they had even truly known each other. Before all the memories, the battles, and the bonds they had built together. His chest tightened painfully. Kim Dokja wouldn’t remember any of it. He wouldn’t remember him.

        Sensing Yoo Joonghyuk’s turmoil, the doctor added gently, "The human mind can work in strange, protective ways. Sometimes, it shields itself from memories that may cause harm or pain. It’s possible that Kim Dokja-ssi’s brain is filtering out something he’s afraid to remember."

        Yoo Joonghyuk felt his heart twist. Was he part of that fear? Or was it the life they had lived together, now erased from Kim Dokja’s fragile memory?

        "But—" Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice cracked with frustration. "But it happened to me once! I forgot the person I loved most in my life, completely! Are you saying I wanted to forget them on purpose? Because it didn’t feel like that at all. He’s... he’s someone important to me, how could I forget him?"

        The doctor looked perplexed, taking in Yoo Joonghyuk’s outburst. Had this man truly experienced a similar ordeal? It seemed improbable, yet the desperation in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes suggested it wasn’t just a distant memory. 

        “If that’s your diagnosis," Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his voice rising, "then I can’t accept it! Because there’s no way I would’ve forgotten him on purpose!”

        The doctor remained composed, but his voice softened, understanding the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk's anguish. "Listen, I never said that Kim Dokja-ssi’s condition is exactly like yours. As I mentioned, the human mind can react unpredictably. The way the brain processes trauma or fear can vary widely. In your case, perhaps the fear you held was different from what Kim Dokja is facing now."

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s fists clenched, ready to argue further, but Han Sooyoung placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Yoo Joonghyuk," she said, "this isn’t going to help."

        “While Kim Dokja’s fear is something he wants to bury, to escape from, yours is the opposite. You’re terrified of losing something, so your mind unconsciously lets go of it before you even have to face that fear. Fear comes in many forms, and the brain tries to protect us from it in different ways. In your case, it seems like you forgot the existence of one person, didn’t you? You remember everything else—your life, your job, the people around you—but this one person slipped away completely. Is that right?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat tightened as he silently acknowledged the doctor’s words. Yes. He remembered his entire life clearly—except for Kim Dokja.

        “You were too scared to lose him," the doctor continued, "so when you experienced that emotional blow, your brain’s first instinct was to erase the fear by erasing him. But for Kim Dokja…”

        The doctor hesitated, and the silence that followed felt like a knife twisting in the air.

        “What… what about him?” Yoo Joonghyuk's voice was barely a whisper, fragile and trembling, as though he already knew the answer would break him.

        “He’s been under our care for a while now, long before the accident,” the doctor said quietly. “Even before that day, Kim Dokja had been struggling with severe depression. And things only got worse when he miscarried—”

        Yoo Joonghyuk felt the world tilt beneath him. Miscarried. Their child. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Kim Dokja had been carrying their child—alone—and had lost everything. 

        Alone.

        The words hit him like a tidal wave, each syllable drowning him in guilt, in sorrow too deep to bear. He had forgotten Kim Dokja once, and now Kim Dokja had forgotten him. Both of them lost in different shades of grief and fear, both too broken to hold on to each other when it mattered most. 

        The doctor’s voice became distant, an echo against the crashing sound of Yoo Joonghyuk’s thoughts. “He’s trying to escape the pain, the trauma. His mind is protecting him from memories he can’t handle… memories of loss. It is why we keep his incident from him to avoid the trauma for the time being.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s vision blurred. He had failed. Failed to protect Kim Dokja. Failed to be there when he needed him the most. And now, Kim Dokja had forgotten him—

        Just as he had once forgotten Kim Dokja.

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s fist clenched tightly at his side, nails digging into his palm as waves of guilt washed over him. The accident may not have been directly his fault, but the burden of responsibility weighed heavily on him. He had been the one to deliver the final blow, the cruel words that condemned Kim Dokja—a death sentence that nearly claimed his life. The thought of what could’ve happened, if Kim Dokja’s attempt had succeeded, sent a chill through him. He would never have the chance to make amends, to fix what he had broken.

        Redemption.

        That word echoed in his mind, a thin thread of hope in the middle of his despair. There was no use in drowning in regrets. He had to focus on what mattered now. He had to fix everything, just as he promised Han Sooyoung. As long as they weren’t separated by life and death, there was still a chance—a chance to atone for the sins he carried, even if they would never be forgiven. He could at least try.

        The doctor, seemingly lost in thought, flipped through Kim Dokja’s CT scan results again, his brow furrowed. There were no abnormalities, no signs of permanent damage. It was clear to him now: Kim Dokja’s brain had likely been jarred during the accident, causing the temporary amnesia.

        But for Yoo Joonghyuk, this wasn’t just a case of memory loss. It was a fracture between them—a distance created by his own failures. And now, as he sat in the quiet office, staring blankly at the reports, all he could think was how desperately he wanted to mend what had been broken. To find a way back to Kim Dokja, before it was too late.

        "How long do you think it might take for him to recover?" Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice, usually so cold and steady, wavered slightly as he broke the silence.

        The doctor, who had been preparing to dismiss them, paused. His expression remained calm and composed as he responded, “Based on my experience, it should take about two to four weeks at most. Not more than three months.” He glanced briefly at the reports again, as if to reassure himself. "Cases like this are rare, but recovery from a concussion typically takes one to two weeks. Factoring in other elements... three months should definitely be enough."

        Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t reply immediately. He only nodded, though his heart still felt heavy with uncertainty. Three months might be enough time to heal Kim Dokja’s memory, but would it be enough to heal the deeper wounds—the ones he had inflicted? That, he wasn’t so sure.

        Yoo Joonghyuk visibly relaxed upon hearing the doctor's timeline. Without wasting another moment, he turned to leave, his steps shaky but determined, Han Sooyoung trailing behind him. She had been holding back her fury, but just as he reached for the door handle, she couldn’t hold it any longer. Grabbing his arm with a tight grip, she spun him around and, without warning, threw a punch straight to his face.

        Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t see it coming. The blow landed hard, knocking him off balance, and he crashed to the floor. A surge of satisfaction crossed Han Sooyoung's face as she looked down at him.

        "Now that you’ve seen what you’ve done, how your selfishness brought him to this point, I want you to leave."

        Her words struck like another blow. Horror flashed across Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, even more painful than the hit. 

        “Leave. He doesn’t remember you anymore, and honestly, it’s better this way.”

        "No." Yoo Joonghyuk scrambled to his feet, blood pooling at the corner of his lip, but he ignored the pain, desperation clear in his voice. "Please, don't make me go away. I— I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to fix this. I know I’m unforgivable, but let me at least try."

        Han Sooyoung’s eyes blazed. “Fix it? Do you really think it’s that simple? He lost his child because of you."

        He knew. The loss of their child crushed him every day. “Please, Sooyoung-ssi. Let me take care of him. I know I have no right... but I just want to be with him.”

        “You're so selfish, aren't you?” Han Sooyoung scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let me ask you something—have you really thought this through? Sure, Kim Dokja might regain his memory one day. The doctor even said so. But have you stopped to think about what happens then? He’ll remember everything. Everything you did to him. How you denied him, how you tossed him away like trash for the sake of your first love, who abandoned you years ago."

        Her words cut through him like a knife, but she wasn’t done. 

        “I know everything, you bastard! And you know what? You actually did the right thing!” She spat the words with venom. “You and your ex—you two deserve each other. Both of you are so damn selfish, always putting your own happiness above everything else. But Kim Dokja? That fool stood by you, even after all the humiliation you put him through."

        Han Sooyoung stepped closer, her glare searing into him. “So what are you doing here? Go chase after that woman you love so much! Don’t come back to him. I’m telling you this for your own good. Because when Kim Dokja remembers, when he remembers how he lost his child because of you, he’ll hate you. He’ll hate you more than anything.”

        Her words were like a thunderclap in his soul. Yoo Joonghyuk staggered, as if the ground beneath him had been ripped away, leaving him stranded in a storm of guilt and shame. The truth in her words was undeniable. Kim Dokja had every reason to hate him, and Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't argue against it. It was all his fault—he knew that, and no amount of regret could undo the damage he had caused. But despite it all, the only thing he wanted now was to be by Kim Dokja's side, more than anything else. Even if it meant losing every ounce of dignity he had left.

        Without hesitation, Yoo Joonghyuk dropped to his knees in front of Han Sooyoung, his pride crumbling away like dust. She stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Never in her wildest thoughts did she imagine the great Yoo Joonghyuk, the unyielding man she knew, would humble himself like this. But if she could see the weight of his desperation, the raw, unbearable grief eating away at him, she might understand.

        “Please… I beg you… let me see him. Let me be with him. I— we— we were getting married—” The words slipped away, choked by the weight of his emotions. Yes, they were on the brink of a new life together, the three of them. How had it all come to this? “I— I’m sorry— I am really sorry, please, I beg you,” Yoo Joonghyuk cried, his forehead pressing against the cold floor as he repeatedly bowed, desperate to convey the depth of his remorse. He ignored the stares from passing onlookers; their judgement didn't matter. All that mattered was softening Han Sooyoung’s heart, proving that he genuinely wanted to atone for his mistakes.

        Han Sooyoung hesitated, her resolve wavering. She didn’t know Yoo Joonghyuk well, apart from the stories Kim Dokja had shared with her. But there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, a flicker of sincerity that made her question her anger. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely bad; maybe he was just incredibly foolish—just like Kim Dokja. Both had been so blinded by love that they had hurt each other in the process. Yet, who was she to judge? Kim Dokja had made his choice to follow this man. As infuriating as Yoo Joonghyuk was, she had no right to dictate Kim Dokja’s path.

        “Fine. I’ll give you one last chance. But if he ever regains his memory and decides to leave you, you must never force him to stay. You have to respect his choice. You owe him that, do you understand?” 

        “Yes, yes, of course I understand,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied fervently, his heart pounding in his chest. He owed Kim Dokja everything—his life, the life of their child. Even if he were to perish here and now, it wouldn’t come close to paying the debt he felt. All he wanted was a chance to make things right.

        With a trembling breath, Yoo Joonghyuk carefully opened the door to Kim Dokja’s hospital room, as if the simple act of entering might disturb the fragile silence. He half-expected to find Kim Dokja asleep, but the man was lying there, eyes wide open, his expression clouded with restless thoughts. Kim Dokja had been trying to piece together who the visitor earlier had been— Did he really know that man? The harder he tried to remember, the sharper the pain in his head grew. And now, the same man stood before him again, this time with Han Sooyoung by his side. Kim Dokja turned his head slightly, his gaze flicking toward them, searching for answers.

        An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as their eyes met, heavy with unspoken words. Yoo Joonghyuk froze, his heart lurching at the sight of Kim Dokja’s gaze—a gaze full of confusion and silent questions. Who are you? Kim Dokja seemed to ask, Why are you still here?

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to run forward, to pull Kim Dokja into his arms, to hold him so tightly that the shattered pieces of their past might fall back into place. Maybe, just maybe, his embrace would be enough to rekindle those lost memories. Perhaps if he held him close, Kim Dokja would remember everything—remember them.

        But then Han Sooyoung’s bitter words echoed in his mind, harsh and cutting. What will happen if he remembers?

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s throat tightened. What would happen if Kim Dokja recalled everything—the betrayals, the cruelty, the moments when Yoo Joonghyuk had pushed him away as though he were nothing? Would Kim Dokja ever be able to forgive him? Or would the weight of the past crush whatever fragile thread still connected them?

        His heart twisted painfully. He had hurt Kim Dokja, wounded him in ways that could never truly be undone. Time might heal, but those wounds would always leave scars. Could he even hope for forgiveness? Or was it too late to fix what had been shattered?

        “You’re not asleep?” Han Sooyoung’s voice pierced the silence, casual yet sharp enough to break the tension that had settled in the room. She walked in without hesitation, while Yoo Joonghyuk remained rooted in place, unable to react. 

        “You should rest while you still have the chance,” she added, her voice softer now.

        Kim Dokja smiled faintly, his expression tinged with exhaustion. “It’s okay. I’ve had enough rest.” 

        Han Sooyoung grabbed a nearby glass, filling it with water before gently helping Kim Dokja sit up. “Drink some water,” she urged, her tone tender yet firm.

        “Thank you,” Kim Dokja said gratefully, taking the glass from her hands. He paused for a moment, then his eyes shifted toward the man standing awkwardly at a distance—the man who had yet to speak, whose presence felt both heavy and out of place.

        “You’re still here,” Kim Dokja said quietly, his voice filled with a strange mix of curiosity and uncertainty. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk felt his throat close up, the words he wanted to say trapped in his chest. All he could manage was a small, hesitant nod.

        “I’m sorry,” Kim Dokja continued, his tone filled with a quiet sincerity that cut deep. “I still can’t remember who you are. The doctor told me I have temporary amnesia, that my memory stopped three years ago.” He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “It’s strange… I always thought things like this only happened in movies or novels, not in real life.”

        Han Sooyoung’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile, but she said nothing.

        “I—” Yoo Joonghyuk finally spoke, his voice trembling slightly as he forced himself to step closer to Kim Dokja. “I’m Yoo Joonghyuk.”

        Kim Dokja blinked, clearly startled. Yoo Joonghyuk? The name resonated in his mind. It was just a few days ago that Han Sooyoung had mentioned the very same name to him, and now the real person was standing right here. His face flushed with confusion and embarrassment as he recalled his recent conversation with Han Sooyoung. Did she contact Yoo Joonghyuk? Did she tell him about the accident? That must be why he was here now. But why would she do that? To cheer him up? 

        Kim Dokja’s heart raced as his mind spun. Sure, I had a crush on Yoo Joonghyuk once… but that was a long time ago. It had been years, so long that he couldn’t even remember what Yoo Joonghyuk’s face had looked like—until now. 

        His gaze lingered on Yoo Joonghyuk, studying him more carefully. This man was undeniably handsome, striking in a way that made Kim Dokja momentarily lose his train of thought. But beyond that—

        “Do you remember me?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice broke the silence, soft and almost fragile, as if he feared the answer. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes, a vulnerability that was impossible to hide.

        Kim Dokja hesitated. The truth was, he didn’t. He didn’t remember this man who stood before him with such intensity. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should. Something about Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence, the weight of his gaze—it stirred something deep inside Kim Dokja, something he couldn’t quite place. But he didn’t remember him. 

        Not yet.

        “Not really... I mean, I do remember we went to the same college,” Kim Dokja began, his voice trailing off as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “And I did admire you—” The colour in his face deepened, and he glanced away for a moment. Why am I telling him this? he thought, feeling self-conscious. “I’m sorry, like the doctor said, I might have forgotten a lot of things.” He paused, offering a soft, apologetic smile before asking, “What about you? Do you know me? I mean... Did I miss something?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart clenched painfully at the question. He had known this would come, had prepared himself for it—but hearing Kim Dokja admit that he didn’t remember anything about him, it hurt more than he thought it would. The years they had shared, the love they had built, all of it erased from Kim Dokja’s mind. 

        Three years, Yoo Joonghyuk thought bitterly. Gone.

        And yet, despite everything, he hesitated. Part of him desperately wanted Kim Dokja to remember—wanted to see recognition in his eyes, to relive the bond they once had. But another part of him was terrified. What if those memories returned? What if Kim Dokja remembered the pain, the betrayal, the loss? Would he ever forgive Yoo Joonghyuk for what had happened—for the cruel decisions that had torn them apart?

        Yoo Joonghyuk swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “Yes... I know you.” His gaze locked onto Kim Dokja’s, and the sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable. “I— you saved my life,” he finally said, the words heavy with unspoken meaning. “And I’m forever grateful to you.”

        Kim Dokja’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. He had? But how could he not remember something so significant? “I’m sorry,” he stammered, a mixture of confusion and frustration bubbling inside him. “I really can’t remember what happened.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart ached seeing the bewilderment in Kim Dokja’s face. Slowly, he mouthed the words, as if reliving the moment himself, “There was an accident, three years ago. I was in that accident, and you were nearby. You saved me from an almost exploding car... and brought me to the hospital.”

        He paused, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat. It was true—Kim Dokja had been his saviour, their fateful encounter beginning with an act of selflessness. But that was only the beginning of their story. There was so much more he longed to say, so much Kim Dokja didn’t remember—how they had fallen in love, the moments they had shared, the laughter, the pain, the plans for a life together.

        But Yoo Joonghyuk knew this wasn’t the time. He wanted to tell Kim Dokja everything—that they had been engaged, that they had dreamed of a future as a family. But looking at Kim Dokja’s weary expression, he knew it would be too much, too overwhelming for someone still trying to piece together fragments of a forgotten past. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart pounded, the weight of the dark secrets threatening to suffocate him. There were things he desperately didn’t want Kim Dokja to remember, at least not now. The terrible contract he had signed, the way his accident mirrored the trauma Kim Dokja was enduring now. And then, the most damning of all—the memory of how he had tried to replace Kim Dokja with his ex, pushing him away in the cruellest manner. The moment that had shattered everything, costing them their child. The guilt of that alone felt like a thousand knives piercing his chest.

        His face paled, haunted by the memories. It was like living in hell, tortured by his own mind and the weight of his actions. How could he ever make amends for such unforgivable mistakes?

        “And then what happened?” Kim Dokja’s soft, curious voice jolted him out of his spiralling thoughts. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk blinked, his pulse racing as he tried to focus. “I— We—” His voice faltered, but he forced himself to continue. “We became friends since then. You helped me a lot... during my recovery. You were always there.” He looked at Kim Dokja, struggling to keep his composure. “And I... I really appreciate that.”

        The words felt hollow compared to the magnitude of what Kim Dokja had truly been to him. Friend? That wasn’t even the half of it. Kim Dokja had been his anchor, his everything, and now, standing in front of him, Yoo Joonghyuk feared he had lost it all. How could he ever tell Kim Dokja the full truth, knowing the pain it would cause?

        "Why don’t you just tell him the truth?" Han Sooyoung’s voice suddenly cut through the silence, sharp and unexpected, instantly drawing everyone's attention. Yoo Joonghyuk’s body tensed, his eyes widening in shock.

        "Truth? What truth?" Kim Dokja's confusion deepened, his gaze shifting anxiously between them.

        "Han Sooyoung!" Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice held a note of desperation, trying to stop her. This wasn’t the right time. It was too soon—Kim Dokja wasn’t ready to hear it.

        But Han Sooyoung’s eyes were cold and unwavering as she spoke, her words merciless. "That you two were lovers."

        The world seemed to stop for a moment. Kim Dokja stared at her, stunned. Lovers? They had been lovers? His heart pounded in his chest, his mind scrambling for any memory to support such a claim, but there was nothing. His memories were a void, a blank space where something so significant should have been.

        "Han Sooyoung, this isn’t the time for jokes."

        But Han Sooyoung met his gaze with a cold, serious expression. "Do you think I’m joking?" she shot back, her tone sharp and unforgiving. "Does my face look like someone who’s joking?"

        The room fell into a heavy silence. 

        No, she wasn’t joking. She was dead serious. Kim Dokja had known Han Sooyoung for years, long enough to distinguish when she was teasing him and when she meant every word. And this—this was one of those moments. The weight of her revelation hit him hard. But if he and Yoo Joonghyuk had truly been lovers, then why couldn’t he remember? 

        He vividly recalled his college crush on Yoo Joonghyuk—the butterflies, the shy admiration from afar. If they had ended up together, shouldn’t that have been the happiest chapter of his life? So why had those memories vanished, erased like they had never existed? 

        What on earth had happened? 

        Kim Dokja’s eyes drifted to Yoo Joonghyuk, whose face was now painted with a look of quiet devastation. The hurt in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes was palpable, and it pierced through Kim Dokja’s chest. He could see how much his memory loss was wounding this man, the man who, apparently, was once everything to him. The guilt that settled in Kim Dokja’s stomach was unbearable—how painful must the accident have been, to rob him of something so precious?

        Desperate for clarity, Kim Dokja glanced toward Han Sooyoung, silently pleading for answers. But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that even she didn’t fully understand why he had agreed to be with Yoo Joonghyuk in the first place. Three years ago, her best friend had done something she couldn’t wrap her mind around. He had either gone mad or had fallen under some kind of spell, because how else could he have become so fixated on this man?

        In her darkest suspicions, Han Sooyoung had even wondered if Yoo Joonghyuk had manipulated him somehow, ensnared him in some way. How else could she explain Kim Dokja’s blind devotion, his willingness to sign that foolish contract just to stay by this man’s side? Looking back, none of it made sense to her.

        In the past, Kim Dokja had always told her, with a quiet sincerity, that he truly loved Yoo Joonghyuk. But Han Sooyoung, who had spent her high school years dreaming of romance yet never truly loving anyone herself, couldn’t grasp it. Love, in that deep, selfless way, was foreign to her. 

        And now, the present Kim Dokja, lost in a haze of forgotten memories, was just as confused. If Han Sooyoung hadn’t been his best friend—someone who wouldn’t lie to him in such a vulnerable moment—he might have believed that she and Yoo Joonghyuk were conspiring in some kind of cruel joke. 

        “I’m sorry,” Kim Dokja finally whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. “I must have disappointed you very much.”

        Those words hit Yoo Joonghyuk like a dagger. His heart clenched painfully, for the man standing before him—the one he had wronged so deeply—was apologising. Apologising, when the fault wasn’t his. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind reeled, recalling his own reaction when the roles had been reversed. When he had lost his memories, did he apologise for forgetting? No. He had done the opposite. He had lashed out, belittling Kim Dokja’s every effort to care for him. He had denied Kim Dokja over and over, treating him with coldness and cruelty, even going so far as to insult him. How could he have been so heartless? 

        What kind of man was he?

        Even now, as the weight of his own guilt crushed him, he realised he had never once apologised. Not for the hurtful words, not for the abandonment, not for the countless ways he had made Kim Dokja feel small and unwanted. Kim Dokja was apologising, but Yoo Joonghyuk was the one who had been the cruellest, most shameless man of all. 

        Kim Dokja watched as Yoo Joonghyuk’s face crumpled, tears spilling down in uncontrollable streams. His heart clenched at the sight. He must have hurt this man deeply, even if he couldn’t remember how. Kim Dokja understood—he could imagine how excruciating it would be to have the person you love most forget all about you. But why did this feeling seem so familiar? Like a ghost of something long-buried stirring inside him, an echo of pain he couldn’t place.

        “You don’t need to apologise. It’s not your fault,” Yoo Joonghyuk managed to say, his voice breaking between sobs. “It was all my fault. I failed... I failed to protect you—”

        The anguish in Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice sent a sharp ache through Kim Dokja’s chest. He didn’t quite remember who this man was or the history they shared, but something about seeing him like this—so broken, so raw—felt unbearable. The urge to comfort him, to make things right, was overwhelming.

        “Please, don’t say that,” Kim Dokja whispered, his voice soft, pleading. “I’m sure it was just an accident. There’s no way it could have been your fault.”

        But instead of bringing any comfort, Yoo Joonghyuk’s sobs only grew more intense, as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear. Kim Dokja, despite his lost memories, felt an inexplicable grief bloom inside him. Seeing Yoo Joonghyuk in so much pain felt like seeing a piece of his own heart shatter. He didn’t know why, but some part of him knew he would rather die than see this man cry like this.

        Han Sooyoung sighed deeply, the weight of regret hanging heavily in the room. Though she didn’t particularly like the man standing before her, even she wasn’t immune to the raw pain in his eyes. She was human, after all, and no one could deny the shared burden of sympathy in moments like this. It was true—this situation was largely Yoo Joonghyuk’s fault. Yet, what good would come from lingering in the past? What was done, was done, and there was no undoing it now. 

        "I think you two need to talk things through," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I should go." She didn’t stay long, knowing that Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk had far more to say to each other than she could ever mediate. As she turned to leave, she glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk, her words more of a reminder than a warning. "Be careful with his injury."

        Yoo Joonghyuk nodded numbly.

        “The doctor said you’re okay to leave tomorrow, if you want," she added, "but with your arm and leg still in casts, it might be better if you stayed longer. You’d heal faster here.”

        Kim Dokja managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shook his head. "No, I want to go home. I can heal just as well there as I can here. It’s the same anyway."

        Han Sooyoung frowned. "But no one would take care of you at home—"

        “I’ll take care of him,” Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly interrupted, the desperation in his voice surprising even himself. He quickly turned toward Kim Dokja, reaching out for his hand with trembling fingers. “I can take care of you. Please… please let me.”

        Kim Dokja blinked, feeling the tremor in Yoo Joonghyuk’s words. Was it fear? It was as if Yoo Joonghyuk was terrified that he might lose him again. But why? Why did Yoo Joonghyuk feel like this was his fault? “Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi, I don’t want to be a burden. Besides, I can manage with a crutch. My arm is getting better—though I still can’t use chopsticks, I’m fine with a spoon and fork.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “I just want to be with you. Please— let me.”

        Kim Dokja was stunned into silence. How could he possibly refuse when the pain in Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was so raw, so vulnerable? 

        "Just listen to him," Han Sooyoung added, her voice cutting through the silence. "You need all the help you can get, Squid. Let him take care of you. Who knows, maybe you’ll remember something. He can help with that, too."

        It was true. The idea of staying with Yoo Joonghyuk was appealing, if only because Kim Dokja was curious about the three lost years he couldn't recall. If Han Sooyoung’s claim was true—that they had once been lovers—then maybe being close to him again could help bring back those memories. And for Yoo Joonghyuk’s sake, he had to try. He couldn't stand the thought of hurting him any more than he already had.

        "Fine then," Kim Dokja finally said, his voice quiet. "I’ll trouble you."

        The shift in Yoo Joonghyuk was instant. His face lit up, relief flooding his expression. "I'll come tomorrow then. Wait for me."

        Kim Dokja smiled faintly, nodding. “I will.”

        No words could capture the overwhelming sense of relief and happiness flooding Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart when Kim Dokja agreed to see him again the next day. He couldn’t even suppress the smile that tugged at his lips—a rare and almost foreign expression for him. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest, one he had carried for far too long. But knowing Kim Dokja needed rest, he made the decision to leave, following Han Sooyoung out of the hospital. There were things to prepare, after all—Kim Dokja would soon be coming back to his home.

        As they reached the hospital entrance, just before they parted ways, Han Sooyoung grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Her expression was steely, eyes cold. “You better behave yourself,” she warned, her voice low but firm. “Just because I’m allowing Kim Dokja to go back with you doesn’t mean I trust you fully. If I find out that you hurt him again—”

        She paused, her gaze hardening.

        “I’ll make sure you pay for it. Twice over.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw clenched, but he nodded, his voice steady despite the growing lump in his throat. “I understand,” he replied firmly. “I’ll take care of him. I won’t let anything happen to him again—”

        “And if he regains his memory,” Han Sooyoung interrupted, cutting through his words like a blade, “and he still chooses to leave, you remember your promise. You’ll let him go. You have to respect his decision.”

        Those words hit harder than any threat ever could. Yoo Joonghyuk swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He remembered. That was the fear that haunted him the most—that even if Kim Dokja remembered everything, he might still decide to walk away. Could he truly bear that?

        Han Sooyoung could sense the turmoil in him, but she didn’t care. To her, this was simply a matter of fact. Yoo Joonghyuk had dug his own grave, and it was time to face the consequences. After everything he had done—whether out of intention or carelessness—he had hurt Kim Dokja in ways that couldn’t be forgiven easily, if ever. Han Sooyoung wasn’t about to let him forget that. Yoo Joonghyuk had pushed Kim Dokja to the edge, and as much as it pained her, she knew someone had to hold him accountable. And she would. She would make sure he paid every debt he owed her best friend.

        Yoo Joonghyuk remained silent, but Han Sooyoung's words lingered like a bitter truth he couldn’t escape. He had no right to expect forgiveness. And yet, he couldn’t help but wish for it.

        Without a word, she turned his heel and walked away, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk with his own thoughts.

* * *

        The next day, when Yoo Joonghyuk arrived, he found Kim Dokja awake, attempting to pack his belongings into a small travel bag. The sight caught him off guard, and without thinking, he rushed over to help.

        “You should’ve waited for me. Let me pack for you,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his voice laced with worry.

        Kim Dokja looked up and smiled gently, a soft expression that stirred something deep within Yoo Joonghyuk. “It’s okay, Joonghyuk-ssi,” he replied, his tone light but tired. “I can manage. My hand’s doing much better now, even though it’s still in a cast. The only real issue is my leg. Other than that, I’m fine.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, his concern unwavering. “You still need to take care of yourself,” he insisted. “Don’t carry anything heavy, and don’t move around too much.”

        A quiet chuckle escaped Kim Dokja’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You sound like you’ve done this a thousand times,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, though it felt distant. “But really, I’m fine.”

        "I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been there myself," Yoo Joonghyuk said, his voice softer than usual.

        Kim Dokja blinked, visibly startled. “I’m sorry? What do you mean you’ve been there?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated for a moment, but then the words tumbled out. “I—I’ve been in your situation once. Even worse.”

        Kim Dokja’s confusion deepened. “You’re saying... you’ve been in an accident?” he asked slowly, and then, as if a memory flickered at the edge of his mind, he recalled something Yoo Joonghyuk had mentioned before. “Is this the accident you said I saved your life from?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, though a shadow of unease crossed his face. He wasn’t ready to bring up too much about that time. What if Kim Dokja began to remember things he couldn’t yet face?

        “What do you mean by ‘worse’?” Kim Dokja pressed on.

        Yoo Joonghyuk took a deep breath. “The accident... It left me paralyzed for almost a year. I couldn’t walk. I had to use a wheelchair just to get around.”

        Kim Dokja felt a cold knot form in his stomach. That bad?

        “But you,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his voice softening with a hint of a smile, “you were there with me the whole time. You helped me through it. You stayed by my side, took me to therapy... and because of you, I recovered much faster.”

        “Really?” Kim Dokja asked, his voice hesitant. He couldn’t remember any of that. It didn’t feel like something he had done.

        Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Yes. You did all of that. You even helped me with the little things—cooking, feeding me, cleaning my home, and... even helping me take a bath.”

        Kim Dokja felt his face flush, the sudden rush of embarrassment warming his cheeks. He had done all that? Even... taking a bath? He couldn’t imagine himself being so intimate, so close to someone.

        Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to sense his embarrassment but pressed on, his voice soft yet steady. “So, this time, I’ll do the same for you. I’ve been waiting for the chance to repay that kindness. I’m... glad I can finally do it.”

        Kim Dokja blushed even harder, his voice light with awkward humour. “Please don’t mention it, Joonghyuk-ssi. It sounds so embarrassing. Honestly, it’s hard for me to believe I did all those things for you,” he chuckled nervously, adding, “How much did you pay me to do all that for you?”

        It was meant as a joke, but the air in the room shifted the moment the words left his lips. Yoo Joonghyuk’s face paled, his expression tightening as if something heavy had settled on his chest. Kim Dokja noticed the sudden silence, the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze dimmed, and his heart sank. Had he said something wrong? Did his careless words hurt him?

        “I’m sorry, did I—did I say something wrong?” Kim Dokja asked quickly, panic creeping into his voice.

        Yoo Joonghyuk blinked, momentarily stunned before shaking his head. “No, no, nothing. I just... remembered something,” he said, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat, quickly adding, “We should leave now if we’re done here.”

        “Oh... okay.” Kim Dokja could tell there was more to it, something Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t telling him. The tension in the air was undeniable, and it was clear Yoo Joonghyuk had deliberately steered the conversation away from whatever troubled him. But Kim Dokja couldn’t bring himself to press further. He silently complied, putting the last of his belongings back into his bag.

        He didn’t have his phone anymore—Han Sooyoung had told him it was broken during the accident. Oddly enough, he wasn’t in a rush to get a replacement. Right now, his focus was on recovering, on regaining his strength so he wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. Especially not to Yoo Joonghyuk. The sooner he could stand on his own again, the sooner he could stop troubling those around him…

        Now, though, Kim Dokja found himself wishing he still had his phone. Maybe, just maybe, it held answers—photos, files, or even messages that might help fill the gaping holes in his memory. If it was true that he and Yoo Joonghyuk had been in a relationship, surely there would be traces of that, right? Pictures, chats, anything to confirm the life they supposedly shared. The idea lingered in his mind, stirring a quiet frustration. But of course, the phone was lost, just like the parts of his memory he desperately wanted back.

        At the very least, if he still had his phone, he could have messaged Han Sooyoung. He could have asked her more about Yoo Joonghyuk, maybe even gotten some clarity on the strange unease he felt about their relationship. For some reason, it didn’t feel like a typical, loving couple. There was something more tangled beneath the surface, something complicated that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. If they had truly been together for three years, why was it all a blank to him? Why did it feel like there were layers to their relationship that no one was willing to discuss?

        And that Witch—Han Sooyoung—wasn’t helping at all! Instead of giving him straightforward answers, she skirted around the truth, asking pointless questions like whether he even knew Yoo Joonghyuk. Why couldn’t she just come out and tell him? Tell him that he and Yoo Joonghyuk had been in a relationship for three years, if that was really the case. After all, Han Sooyoung had been his best friend for nearly a lifetime. There was no way she didn’t know the truth about what had been going on between him and Yoo Joonghyuk.

        Kim Dokja knew himself too well to believe otherwise. There was no way he would’ve kept something like that from her. In fact, he probably would’ve bragged about it, rubbing it in her face just to tease her about being perpetually single. He could practically hear his own voice, joking with her, taunting her about being ‘forever alone’. There was no chance he wouldn’t have used every opportunity to mock her—so why didn’t she say anything now?

        It made him question what was really going on between him and Yoo Joonghyuk. Was there something more to their relationship that no one was telling him? Something so complicated even Han Sooyoung couldn’t bring herself to spell it out? 

        It wasn’t that Kim Dokja didn’t trust Yoo Joonghyuk. There was just something… off, something indescribable that he couldn’t shake. Every time Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him, there was fear—obvious and heavy—lingering in his eyes. It gnawed at Kim Dokja, made him wonder if something had happened between them. Had they fought before his accident? Was that why Yoo Joonghyuk seemed so burdened with guilt?

        And then there was the accident itself. Han Sooyoung hadn’t told him any of the details. Why had she been so evasive about it? Kim Dokja could almost feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, and he silently swore to make Han Sooyoung pay for leaving him in the dark. There had to be a reason she was withholding information, though. Maybe this was the root of everything.

        What if they had fought? Maybe the accident had happened afterward, and Yoo Joonghyuk blamed himself. It would explain the fear, the regret he kept seeing in his eyes. And maybe Han Sooyoung was trying to protect them both, trying to stop whatever rift existed from growing any deeper by keeping him in the dark.

        It made sense. It all seemed to add up. At least until Kim Dokja arrived at Yoo Joonghyuk’s home… and saw what was inside. 

        Because nothing could have prepared him for that.

        Kim Dokja’s eyes widened slightly as he stepped inside. The place wasn’t exactly a mess, but something was definitely off. It looked like the house was in the middle of a renovation. The wooden floors were being half-replaced with marble tiles, and furniture was scattered, as if mid-rearrangement. Empty vases sat abandoned on tables, and several paintings were left leaning against the walls instead of hanging. He guessed the wallpaper was being replaced—maybe that’s why everything was in such disarray.

        Yoo Joonghyuk grew uneasy as he noticed Kim Dokja’s curious gaze scanning the surroundings. His posture stiffened, betraying his fear of what Kim might say or think. He was clearly bracing himself for something, something Kim Dokja couldn’t quite put his finger on.

        “Are you having a renovation?” Kim Dokja finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

        As he had anticipated, Kim Dokja asked the question that hung heavily in the air. Yoo Joonghyuk's heart sank; yes, it was true that he had initiated the renovations. But shame washed over him at the memory of the rage that had driven him to this point. In his anger, he had sought to erase Kim Dokja’s presence from their shared space, replacing everything he believed reflected Kim Dokja’s tastes. How deeply heartbroken he felt when the reality of his actions hit him. He longed to restore everything to its rightful place, but time slipped away from him.

        “Yes, I did. I want to move to a new home soon,” he finally replied, the words heavy with unspoken regret. It was only half the truth. The home he was thinking of wasn’t just any place—it was the one Kim Dokja had bought for the two of them, a future he had once tried to destroy but now longed to recover.

        “A new home?” Kim Dokja echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

        “Yes. A new home for you and me… for us. After we get married.” 

        Married? The word struck Kim Dokja like a lightning bolt, flushing his cheeks a deep shade of crimson. They were getting married? He felt a rush of indignation towards Han Sooyoung; how could she have overlooked telling him such an important detail? 

        But that anger quickly faded, replaced by a far more troubling thought. Why couldn’t he remember this momentous occasion? It should have been the pinnacle of his life—the decision to marry someone he had cherished for so long. Shouldn’t this be the dream he had always yearned for? 

        “I’m planning to move some things there… while renovating the rest. I might rent this place out once we no longer live here,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, his voice low and uncertain.

        Kim Dokja hesitated, the question already burning on his lips. “Have I—have I been living with you these three years?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk nodded slowly. “Yes, we’ve been living together for three years, since the accident. You stayed with me, took care of me… you never left my side.”

        A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips as he recalled those memories. 

        Kim Dokja remained silent, guilt weighing heavily on him. He could see the quiet pain in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes—the way he cherished every memory of their time together, while Kim Dokja couldn’t remember a single moment. "I’m sorry," Kim Dokja finally whispered, his voice small and fragile. "I should remember something, anything… but I really can’t. Please bear with me. I’ll try my best to remember again. Please… don’t hate me for this."

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepened, a wave of shame crashing over him. How could Kim Dokja be so gentle in this moment, so understanding? When Yoo Joonghyuk had lost his own memories, he had done nothing but push Kim Dokja away—complaining, creating distance, suspicious of Kim Dokja’s every act of kindness. He realised now just how undeserving he felt, standing before someone so patient, so kind.

        “I don’t blame you at all,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, his voice strained. “I—I’m just relieved to have you here. I thought I’d lost you for good.”

        The silence stretched on, fragile yet heavy, until Kim Dokja finally spoke, breaking the tension. “When my arm and leg get better, I’ll help you pack up,” he said, forcing a small smile to lighten the moment.

        Yoo Joonghyuk only nodded in response, his usual stoic demeanour masking whatever emotions were stirring inside him. He busied himself with carrying Kim Dokja’s belongings into the bedroom. Kim Dokja followed quietly, his eyes wandering over the house in hopes that something—anything—would trigger a memory. The house felt familiar, yet distant, like an echo of a life he no longer recognized.

        When they reached the bedroom, though, Kim Dokja felt his heart skip a beat. This was unmistakably the main bedroom, and in the centre of it was a king-sized bed. He stared at it for a moment, realisation dawning on him. Did this mean he had been sleeping here… with Yoo Joonghyuk? His cheeks flushed red at the thought. The idea of sharing a bed with him, even though it seemed logical considering they’d supposedly lived together for years, felt overwhelming in his current state of amnesia.

        Yoo Joonghyuk, oblivious to his embarrassment, continued to arrange Kim Dokja’s things, while Kim Dokja stood awkwardly in the doorway, struggling to piece together the puzzle of a life that still felt like a stranger’s.

        Yoo Joonghyuk's brow furrowed at Kim Dokja’s hesitance. He could see the discomfort in his expression, the uncertainty. “Something wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with concern.

        Kim Dokja hesitated, glancing at the large bed before speaking. “I— do I sleep here at night?”

        “Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. “This is our bedroom. We’ve been sleeping here all the time.”

        Kim Dokja’s heart raced. He knew they were still technically a couple, but his memory wasn’t intact, and the idea of sharing such an intimate space now felt foreign. “I’m sorry, Joonghyuk-ssi, but— I think I should sleep somewhere else tonight. If there’s no other room, I don’t mind the couch.” His voice wavered slightly, nervous about how his words might be received. “Please don’t take it the wrong way. I just don’t want things to be awkward between us or make you uncomfortable.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk frowned, the familiar sense of guilt stirring within him. Kim Dokja’s words echoed painfully, reminding him of the time when he had lost his memory and reacted so much different. He had refused to sleep with Kim Dokja then too—coldly, even cruelly—as if Kim Dokja had been a stranger, or worse, a burden. He had distanced himself out of suspicion and fear, treating Kim Dokja like a contiguous disease.

        Now, hearing Kim Dokja’s gentle, almost apologetic request, Yoo Joonghyuk felt a deep shame rising. Kim Dokja was so kind, so considerate, even when it was his turn to feel confused and lost. Yoo Joonghyuk had acted out of fear and selfishness, but Kim Dokja… he was simply trying to avoid discomfort, putting Yoo Joonghyuk’s feelings first, even now.

        “I want you to sleep with me,” Yoo Joonghyuk said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. Kim Dokja's face turned a deeper shade of red, his heart pounding at the unexpected boldness.

        “Please don’t get me wrong,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, softening his tone. “I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just want to take care of you. If you need something in the middle of the night, I want to be there. You’re not fully recovered yet, and anything could happen. I’d never forgive myself if something happened while I wasn’t around. If it helps, I’ll move the couch into the bedroom and sleep on it. You need the bed for proper rest.”

        Kim Dokja opened his mouth to protest, feeling guilty. “But I’ll trouble you—”

        Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted gently, his gaze steady. “You did the same for me when I was in your place. I know you don’t remember it now, but… please, let me take care of you the way you took care of me.”

        Kim Dokja was left speechless. He hadn’t expected this. How could he let Yoo Joonghyuk sleep on the couch while he had the bed all to himself? The thought was unbearable. “Then— then don’t sleep on the couch,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. “The bed is big enough for both of us… so we can both sleep on it.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, but Kim Dokja could feel the tension ease just slightly. It was a small step toward closing the distance between them, and somehow, it felt like the right thing to do.

        “You don’t mind?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his voice soft.

        Kim Dokja’s heart raced, and looking at the gentle smile on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face only worsened his already flustered state. “No, no, it’s okay. We’re just sleeping anyway,” he stammered, then tried to add a joke to lighten the mood. “I—I just hope you don’t mind if I drool.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t mind kissing you to clean it.”

        The playful remark sent Kim Dokja’s face ablaze, and he quickly turned away, desperate to hide his embarrassment. “Loo—look! There’s a photo there!” He practically darted toward it, using it as an excuse to escape the teasing.

        As he flipped the frame to get a better look, he froze. The photo captured both of them, smiling—no, beaming —together, happiness radiating from their faces. He looked so carefree, and so did Yoo Joonghyuk. They seemed… content, in a way that almost felt foreign to him now. His heart clenched with an ache he couldn’t explain.

        “When… when was this taken?” Kim Dokja murmured, his voice barely audible, his fingers lightly brushing over the glass as if trying to reach into the moment frozen in time.

        “That picture is actually from our pre-wedding photoshoot,” Yoo Joonghyuk said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. He remembered how he had angrily taken that same photo off the wall of his study, even coming close to throwing it away. Now, seeing it again, those memories stung more sharply than ever.

        Kim Dokja’s mind spun. A pre-wedding photo? They’d actually gone that far? Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t exaggerating—he really had meant it when he said they were getting married. 

        “We took that picture right after you said yes to my proposal,” Yoo Joonghyuk added softly.

        Kim Dokja felt his face flush even more intensely, his hands instinctively flying up to cover his burning cheeks. “I—I—”

        Yoo Joonghyuk gave him a reassuring look. “I know you don’t remember it yet, but you really accepted my proposal. I’m not lying.”

        “Of—of course I believe you!” Kim Dokja stammered, panicked. Who in their right mind would refuse a proposal from someone like Yoo Joonghyuk? But then, a sudden realisation hit him, and his heart sank. If Yoo Joonghyuk had proposed, there must have been a ring— his ring. 

        Where was it? His fingers instinctively went to his hands, but there was nothing. Did he lose it in the accident? Oh god, if he did… What if Yoo Joonghyuk found out? He was doomed. Yoo Joonghyuk would never forgive him for losing something so important.

        Yoo Joonghyuk noticed the shift in Kim Dokja’s expression, the panic rising on his face. “What’s wrong?”

        Kim Dokja’s voice came out barely above a whisper, fear lacing every word. “I—I might’ve lost the ring…”

        “What ring?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

        Kim Dokja felt the urge to roll his eyes at the question. What else could he be talking about? "The engagement ring… maybe—maybe it got lost during my accident…”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression softened. “I haven’t given you any ring yet.”

        Kim Dokja froze, blinking up at him in disbelief. "You—haven’t?"

        Yoo Joonghyuk gave a small, almost shy nod. “No. I was planning to give it to you once we settled everything… after the accident.”

        Kim Dokja’s heart stuttered, a wave of relief flooding through him. "Oh." He felt embarrassed now, his earlier panic seeming ridiculous. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk let out a faint chuckle. “Don’t worry, you haven’t lost anything yet.”

        “At that time, I was in such a hurry,” Yoo Joonghyuk rubbed the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic awkwardness settling over him. “I was so eager to propose to you, but the ring I had custom-made wasn’t ready yet. I should’ve waited a few more days.” He sighed, a mix of regret and fondness in his voice.

        Kim Dokja blinked, trying to process everything. So, there had been no ring… yet?

        “I still have the ring,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued with a small, almost wistful smile. “I’ll give it to you when the time is right.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s smile softened as he glanced at Kim Dokja, but a trace of worry lingered behind his eyes. He had thought about this moment countless times, afraid that if he gave the ring to Kim Dokja now, it might be too soon. If Kim Dokja didn't remember everything yet, would he accept it? Would things be different once all the memories returned? Yoo Joonghyuk hoped, deep down, that when the time finally came, Kim Dokja would still want to wear the ring, despite all that had happened between them.

        After their conversation, there wasn’t much else to say. Both of them busied themselves with organising, a quiet task filling the space between them. Kim Dokja quickly settled in, and it left him wondering how it was possible. Perhaps it was simply true—he’d been here for three years, sharing this home with Yoo Joonghyuk. It wasn’t that he doubted Yoo Joonghyuk’s words; it just felt strangely familiar, even if his memories were out of reach. Somehow, he instinctively knew where everything was: towels, clothes, blankets… even the medicines and toiletries, down to the shoe laces.

        When it was time for dinner, he navigated the kitchen without thinking, easily finding the utensils, plates, and glasses. Opening one of the cabinets to get some glasses, a surprise caught his eye: a cracked mug sitting among the others. The faint lines of glue traced over its surface, keeping its fragile form together. It was odd that Yoo Joonghyuk had kept it, especially with its visible flaws. Curious, Kim Dokja took it out, turning it in his hands, wondering why something so broken was held onto so carefully.

        “Be careful.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice broke the silence, soft but close. “It’s already cracked—I don’t want the rough edges to cut your hand.”

        “Is this yours?” Kim Dokja asked, glancing back at him.

        “Yes, it is.”

        “If it’s broken, why not just replace it? I doubt it can still be used.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated. “I... I can’t throw it away. It was a gift from someone very important to me.”

        Ah, so that’s why. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Kim Dokja carefully placed the mug back.

        “It’s from you.”

        The words left Kim Dokja momentarily speechless.

        “I broke it,” Yoo Joonghyuk admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.”

        Kim Dokja didn’t remember the mug at all, but it was clear it held a story—a memory Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t let go of, even in its broken state.

        “It was your first Christmas gift to me,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured. “You always used it… making coffee for me in the mornings, warming milk at night.”

        Kim Dokja felt his words catch in his throat.

        Yoo Joonghyuk opened his mouth as if to continue, to confess the anger that had led him to break the mug in some attempt to erase Kim Dokja from his heart. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

        Kim Dokja offered him a small, gentle smile. “It’s fine, Joonghyuk-ssi. Really. It’s just a mug.”

        The words struck Yoo Joonghyuk in an unexpected way, as if something fragile was slipping through his fingers. The mug was ordinary, with no remarkable design. It was just a simple cup, after all—yet he couldn’t shake the memory of how Kim Dokja had once cherished it. And now, just like that, it seemed as meaningless as any other broken thing.

        Was their relationship destined to become as disposable?

        The thought was unbearable, and he watched in horror as Kim Dokja reached to discard the mug for good. Instinctively, Yoo Joonghyuk moved, his hand grasping the mug before Kim Dokja could let it go.

        “What are you doing?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice held an edge as he grasped the mug.

        Kim Dokja startled, blinking in confusion at Yoo Joonghyuk’s unexpected intensity. “I was just going to throw it away… Don’t worry, Joonghyuk-ssi. I’ll buy a new one to replace it.”

        “No!” Yoo Joonghyuk’s answer was sharp, his grip tightening on the cracked mug. “I don’t want a new one. I’m keeping this one, even if it can’t be used.”

        Kim Dokja was caught off guard, utterly speechless as Yoo Joonghyuk clung to the old, broken cup. Only now did he remember—this wasn’t truly his home; it was Yoo Joonghyuk’s, filled with his memories and attachments. Who was he to decide what stayed or went? A quiet shame crept over him.

        “I’m sorry… Please don’t be mad at me,” Kim Dokja murmured, his voice soft. “I just thought… I’d get you a new one once I recovered.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes softened, his posture easing. “I’m not angry,” he said gently. “I just… want to keep it. A token of what we’ve been through. But, yes—let’s get a new one together. A couple, actually, and you’ll choose it for us.”

        A warmth spread through Kim Dokja, his face flushing. Yoo Joonghyuk always had a way of making his heart race with even the smallest words.

        Since moving in, Kim Dokja had never felt so utterly cared for. True to his word, Yoo Joonghyuk stayed by Kim Dokja's side, ensuring he was never alone or in need. Yoo Joonghyuk had somehow managed to adapt his work, handling everything remotely, and when he needed to attend meetings, he’d only be a room away. Gradually, Kim Dokja began to savour the closeness they shared, finding comfort in Yoo Joonghyuk’s quiet, steady presence.

        And yet, did he manage to bring back the lost memory?

        He didn’t. Did it bother him? Surprisingly, no. Old memories, he realised, could always be replaced by new ones. The life he had now with Yoo Joonghyuk was enough—peaceful, fulfilling, and warm in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Though those years remained blank in his mind, he sensed how genuine Yoo Joonghyuk’s care had always been. For now, that was all he needed.

        Yoo Joonghyuk was tireless in his care, always there to help Kim Dokja walk, change, eat, even drawing his bath as if he intended Kim Dokja never to lift a finger. It was beyond anything Kim Dokja could have asked for, and each gesture left him quietly grateful. Yet, a pang of regret lingered—a sadness that he’d lost the memory of those three years together. But whenever he mentioned it, Yoo Joonghyuk would only smile softly, reassuring him that it changed nothing about their future. They’d spend their lives together, Yoo Joonghyuk had promised, and he meant to fill Kim Dokja’s days with memories better than those lost. His words were more than comfort; they felt like a vow.

        Kim Dokja started to believe that maybe, sometimes, it was okay to forget.

        But fate — as he would soon learn — never forgets.

        Lately, Kim Dokja had started seeing dreams that felt too vivid, like he’d been transported to another world where he wasn’t just dreaming—he was witnessing. At first, everything was hazy: blurred figures drifted in and out like ghosts on a screen, and he was merely a spectator, unable to interact. In one dream, he saw a man with an indistinct face cradling a baby in his arms. The child slept peacefully, and there was such serenity in the scene that Kim Dokja felt a strange urge to approach, to reach out and ask to hold the baby. But he knew he couldn’t, knew he was only there to watch.

        The man’s gaze lingered on the sleeping child with a tenderness that stirred something painful and inexplicable in Kim Dokja’s chest. Then, abruptly, the man stood and moved to the window, holding the baby close. A chill crawled up Kim Dokja’s spine; something was terribly wrong. His instincts screamed, but all he could do was watch, helpless. In one horrific motion, the man clutched the child tighter—and stepped out into the abyss beyond the window.

        Kim Dokja jolted awake, his breath catching in his throat. His hands trembled as he reached out, still gripped by the terror of the dream. He’d tried to grab the man, to save the baby—anything to stop the awful plunge. But in that dream, his hands were useless, passing through the air like a ghost’s. Helpless, he’d watched as the two figures fell, saw the ground rush up to meet them. The blood had pooled beneath them, vivid and crimson, almost like a dreadful painting splashed across his mind.

        That was when he opened his eyes.

        He forced himself to breathe, his heart pounding like it might burst. The room was dark, quiet save for the soft, steady rhythm of Yoo Joonghyuk’s breathing beside him. He stole a glance to make sure he hadn’t woken him; somehow, Yoo Joonghyuk had slept through his gasp. Kim Dokja couldn’t explain why he’d dreamt something so horrible. It felt too real, an aching familiarity hanging on the edges of his mind—as if he had known those blurred figures, as if he’d lost them once before.

        The nightmare returned, night after night, clawing its way into Kim Dokja’s sleep like a haunting. It was relentless, a reel that spun the same harrowing scenes with dreadful precision. He was left to witness it unfold in helpless silence as the blurred man cradled the sleeping baby, then crossed the room toward the window. And each time, Kim Dokja tried to stop him—to the point of standing in front of the window, reaching out—but it was useless. The man passed through him like a shadow, vanishing over the edge, and Kim Dokja could only watch the inevitable, nightmarish fall. 

        At first, he thought he could keep it to himself, hiding the fractured sleep and haunted expressions from Yoo Joonghyuk. If he woke in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat, he would murmur something about needing to use the bathroom, slipping out before Yoo Joonghyuk could ask questions. Yoo Joonghyuk never suspected a thing, simply helping him up, waiting patiently by the door until Kim Dokja returned, then guiding him back to bed and tucking him under the covers with quiet, steady hands.

        Yet each time, Kim Dokja could feel the lingering heaviness as he tried to close his eyes, knowing that when sleep came, the nightmare would be waiting for him again.

        Kim Dokja was caught between silence and unease. Should he share his nightmares with Yoo Joonghyuk? A part of him whispered no—there was nothing Yoo Joonghyuk could do anyway, and the telling wouldn’t stop the visions from resurfacing each night. But the frequency, the unrelenting sameness, unnerved him, made him question himself again and again: Why did these scenes return? What message, if any, was tangled within them?

        He wondered if it was a sign, though of what, he couldn’t guess. Some believed dreams were the unconscious mind trying to surface hidden truths, memories, fragments of things lost or buried deep. Perhaps, he thought, this figure in his dreams—this man and child—had truly existed in the time he couldn’t recall. Maybe he’d once witnessed a tragedy, an accident, or worse, and his mind had banished it along with other memories of those three lost years. And maybe it was his guilt, for not being able to do anything, it was why he kept seeing it. 

        It was his own mind that forced him to remember— not to forget.

        Because fate never forgets.

        Yoo Joonghyuk was not blind. He saw the subtle shift in Kim Dokja—the change that had slowly turned the man from someone brimming with warmth into someone shrouded in quiet gloom. And it scared him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the time was approaching, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. What else could explain the growing distance between them? The way Kim Dokja’s eyes seemed more distant each day, his nights more restless, though he never spoke of it. Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to ask, to demand the truth, but fear held him back. What if the truth was something he couldn’t bear? What if the truth was that Kim Dokja was starting to remember?

        He remembered the doctor’s words clearly—that Kim Dokja’s memory might return after three months. The clock was ticking, the seconds slipping by like sand through his fingers, and Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t stop the gnawing anxiety eating at him. Every night, as he lay awake beside Kim Dokja, he waged a battle inside himself. He hid his fear, buried it under a veil of indifference. He couldn’t let Kim Dokja see how terrified he was. He couldn’t let him know that with every passing day, every moment that Kim Dokja seemed to pull away, Yoo Joonghyuk feared the inevitable.

        Still, in the deepest part of his heart, there was hope—a fragile, almost desperate hope. If Kim Dokja remembered everything, all the pain, all the cruelty, maybe, just maybe, he would forgive him. It was the only thing Yoo Joonghyuk clung to, the one thread of hope that kept him from falling into despair. He told himself it would be okay, that even if Kim Dokja remembered how harshly he’d treated him, even if he recalled all the mistakes Yoo Joonghyuk had made, he could still hope for forgiveness. He could still hope for another chance.

        And if that chance came, Yoo Joonghyuk swore he would cherish it, never squandering a single moment. He would never let Kim Dokja down again. He would trade everything, even his life, to make it right. Each night, as sleep eluded him, he would pray silently—plead in the quiet of his mind—that Kim Dokja would see how much he needed him, how much he loved him. Because after everything, it was only Kim Dokja who was willing to stay, only Kim Dokja who had treated him like something precious when he didn’t deserve it. He was trash, yet Kim Dokja treated him like a treasure.

        Yoo Joonghyuk cried in silence that night, the tears falling in heavy, silent streams. His conscience was a relentless beast, clawing at him with the weight of everything he had buried deep within. He had known, from the very start, that he should have come clean. He should have confessed, told Kim Dokja everything—told him about the mistakes he made, about the things he had done wrong. But his cowardice, that same fear that had followed him throughout his life, had held him back. His fear of rejection, his fear of losing Kim Dokja, had kept him silent for so long.

        And now, his silence was suffocating him.

        He should have bent his knee and begged for forgiveness. It was what he deserved, what Kim Dokja deserved. But every time he thought of the truth—of the child they had lost, the child he had killed with his own action—his heart twisted in agony. How could he ever face Kim Dokja with that? How could he possibly confess that it was his stupidity, his reckless decisions, that had led to the miscarriage? How could he face the man he loved knowing that he had taken away something so precious from them both?

        Even if Kim Dokja somehow found it in his heart to forgive him, Yoo Joonghyuk knew he would never forgive himself. He would never be able to look at himself in the mirror, never be able to move on from the burden of what he had done. The weight of his guilt would never be lifted, not by anyone's forgiveness.

        Because fate never forgets.

        His mistakes would follow him for the rest of his life. Karma was a cruel, unforgiving judge, and Yoo Joonghyuk was paying the price. He would live with this guilt, this regret, for as long as he drew breath. And no matter how much he wanted to make things right, he knew there was no undoing what had been done. 

        And that was the real punishment.

        Because fate never forgets.

        And because fate never forgets, there would inevitably come a day when all truths returned to haunt their rightful places.

        That day arrived with an emergency at Yoo Joonghyuk’s office, urgent enough to demand his presence. He didn’t want to leave Kim Dokja alone, not when the memories weighed heavily between them, but the situation was spiralling beyond his control. The office needed him, and he couldn’t turn his back on the responsibility.

        “Just go, I’m fine now. Really. My hands are much better,” Kim Dokja reassured him with a gentle persistence, over and over. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’m not a little child—I can take care of myself.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze lingered, shadows of doubt clouding his eyes. “Are you sure?” His voice wavered. “This could take a while to sort out. I might even need to spend the night there.”

        Kim Dokja offered him a small, calm smile. “It’s okay. Go on. If anything happens or if I need something, I swear, I’ll call you right away, alright?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk gave one last uncertain look before he nodded, forcing himself to leave. But the heaviness lingered, as if fate itself was watching, waiting patiently for the scales to tip. So even though he was clearly reluctant to leave, he had no choice but to agree. He packed his essentials into a small travel bag, each movement betraying his hesitation, and finally left with a heavy heart. 

        Kim Dokja stood at the doorway, watching him disappear down the path, a subtle unease twisting in his stomach. But he chose to keep it buried. He didn’t want Yoo Joonghyuk worrying over him for something so trivial, just some recurring nightmares that had left him feeling drained and restless. They weren’t reason enough to trouble Yoo Joonghyuk.

        With the house suddenly empty and quiet, Kim Dokja decided to tidy up a bit. Since his hands were healing well, it seemed like the right time to unpack the suitcase he’d brought on the first day. It had sat, half-unpacked, in the corner of their shared space all this time. He remembered there were a few books he had tucked inside, unread and waiting. He’d imagined pulling them out one by one to fill the shelves here, a small way to settle in and make this place feel like his own. Now, with Yoo Joonghyuk away, it seemed the perfect time to arrange them and dive into reading. Perhaps, he thought, the words would keep him company and hold back the lingering feeling of loneliness in the air.

        Kim Dokja carefully carried the suitcase to the bed, setting it down with gentle movements as if it might shatter under his touch. He flipped it open, the faint creak of the zipper filling the quiet room. Inside were a few books, neatly stacked, while the clothes were already gone—likely taken out by Yoo Joonghyuk for him to use. His gaze landed on the books, and he reached for the one on top, its crisp plastic wrapper catching the light. 

        The sight of the author’s name brought a soft smile to his lips. It was unmistakably Han Sooyoung’s pseudonym. He could almost hear her smug voice telling him how her latest masterpiece was destined to change the literary world. Perhaps she’d gifted it to him before, but life had been too chaotic to let him savour it.

        But as he lifted the book, something else caught his eye—a small glint from beneath the stack. Curiosity stirred in his chest, and he set the book aside, carefully reaching in. His fingers brushed against cool metal, and he pulled out a necklace—a delicate chain with a tiny pendant shaped like a rattle.

        Kim Dokja stilled, his brow furrowing as he examined it. The trinket felt unfamiliar, yet something about it pulled at the corners of his mind. His fingers ran over the smooth surface of the pendant as his heart began to beat a little faster. 

        Whose was this necklace?

        His thoughts wavered. The size, the shape—it was unmistakably meant for a child. Or... a baby. 

        Kim Dokja frowned, the weight of the trinket suddenly heavy in his palm. A faint unease coiled in his chest, a distant echo of something he couldn’t quite name. 

        A baby. 

        It was definitely for a baby.

        It was definitely a gift… whose baby? A friend’s? Or—

        The necklace slipped from Kim Dokja’s trembling fingers, falling to the floor with a crisp, echoing sound. The room seemed to grow unbearably still, the silence amplifying the sharp pang in his chest. He stood frozen, staring at the delicate trinket as if it were a ghost from a life he had tried to forget. But the memories surged forth, unrelenting and merciless. 

        This wasn’t just a necklace for some friend’s child—it had been a gift. 

        A precious gift meant for his baby. 

        His baby.  

        Kim Dokja’s breath caught in his throat, his knees threatening to give way as the truth hit him like a tidal wave. The dam in his mind shattered, and the memories came flooding back with devastating clarity. He could see it all now: Yoo Joonghyuk’s earnest expression as he handed him the necklace. It was the day Yoo Joonghyuk proposed, a day that had felt like the beginning of forever. There had been no ring, not yet—it was being crafted, Yoo Joonghyuk had said—but this necklace, with its tiny rattle pendant, was their symbol of hope, a promise for the child they were waiting to welcome into the world.

        The ache in his chest deepened, twisting into something unbearable. Kim Dokja staggered back, clutching at the edge of the bed to keep himself upright. The overwhelming tide of memory didn’t stop there. It dragged him under, forcing him to relive it all: the first time he met Yoo Joonghyuk, the quiet, awkward himself who had saved the man. The contract they’d made, binding them together in a fragile alliance. The slow, inevitable blossoming of love between them, each moment brighter than the last. The proposal. The joy of his pregnancy, the shared anticipation of a future filled with warmth and laughter.

        And then—

        The accident.  

        Kim Dokja gasped as the memory tore through him like a blade. He could feel the cold terror of that moment, the weight of it crushed him anew, the grief he thought he had buried surfacing with raw, unrelenting force. The room spun around him as he sank to his knees, staring at the necklace lying on the floor. His heart felt like it was splintering, the cracks growing deeper with every memory that clawed its way back into his mind. The pain was immense, a deep dark pit he couldn’t stop or escape.  

        This wasn’t a life he had forgotten. 

        This was a life stolen by fate’s cruel hand, and fate never forgets. 

        Now, it was all rushing back to him.

        The truth struck him like a knife to the chest, sharper and colder than he could have ever imagined. Kim Dokja staggered back, the weight of his memories nearly unbearable. The accident hadn’t been what he thought—some cruel twist of fate that had simply robbed him of his memory. No, it had been something darker, something he had done himself in a moment of despair so deep he could barely comprehend it now.  

        He could see it all as if it were happening right in front of him: the moment of overwhelming rejection, the cold hatred in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, the emptiness that had swallowed him whole. That final act, the desperate leap—a plunge that hadn’t just threatened his life, but had taken the life of the child he’d been carrying— 

        Their child. 

        Theirs!

        A tremor ran through him as the depth of his own actions fully settled in his mind. He had sinned in the worst way possible, had stolen the life of someone who had never even had the chance to live. And that life had belonged to Yoo Joonghyuk—the man who had loved him, who had once looked at him with eyes full of trust and warmth.

        “What… what have I done?” he whispered, voice cracking as unwanted tears slipped down his cheeks, blurring his vision. 

        What had he done?

        Repeated questions that would never get an answer. His body shuddered, overwhelmed by the sorrow he couldn’t contain. Yoo Joonghyuk must have known. He must have understood everything, yet he’d kept this truth hidden, burying it for Kim Dokja’s sake. He’d carried that knowledge alone, shouldering the guilt and pain so that Kim Dokja wouldn’t have to.

        But why? Kim Dokja’s breath caught, his mind spinning as he struggled to comprehend Yoo Joonghyuk’s kindness. Yoo Joonghyuk could have hated him, could have exposed the truth to punish him for what he’d done. But instead, Yoo Joonghyuk had chosen silence. Yoo Joonghyuk must have wanted to protect him from this unbearable truth, kept it hidden even at the cost of his own heartache.

        Kim Dokja’s hand flew to his mouth, stifling a sob. How could he ever make amends for this? How could he face Yoo Joonghyuk again, knowing he’d taken away something so precious, that he’d wronged not only the man he loved but the innocent life that had been their child? The sorrow felt endless, wrapping around him like chains he would never escape. He had broken Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart, had shattered their love, and now, all he could feel was a bone-deep regret that tore him apart from the inside.

        “I’m so sorry…” he choked, though he knew no amount of apology could change the past or bring back what he had lost. The tears kept coming, unstoppable and raw, as he sank into his grief, a grief that would linger forever.

        What had he done?

        Frantically, Kim Dokja stumbled through the room, searching for the phone with trembling hands. The landline was his only option—his own phone, lost in the aftermath of the accident, had never been returned. A sudden realisation struck him like a dagger to the chest: Yoo Joonghyuk had deliberately kept it from him. He must have known that the phone, with all the pictures, messages, and memories stored within it, would have triggered his recollection much sooner. Yoo Joonghyuk had been avoiding his requests for it, shielding him from the pain he now felt tearing through his heart.

        What was he supposed to do now? His hands shook as he gripped the receiver, the empty hum of the dial tone filling the silence around him. His first instinct was to call Yoo Joonghyuk, to tell him everything—that the lost fragments of their past had returned, and with them, the unbearable weight of their shared tragedy. He needed to say it, to pour out the tidal wave of emotions surging inside him.

        But just as his fingers began to dial Yoo Joonghyuk’s number, he froze. His breath hitched, the numbers blurred in his vision.

        So what?

        What difference would it make if he remembered now?

        Would it undo the devastating loss that had fractured their lives? Would it breathe life back into their child, whose existence had been so cruelly snatched away? Would it fix the shattered remnants of what they once had, or erase the scars etched into their hearts?

        His grip on the receiver faltered, his arms feeling like lead. Slowly, painfully, he placed it back on the cradle, the hollow click echoing louder than it should have. His chest tightened, his throat constricted, and tears spilled freely down his face. 

        "It won’t change anything," he whispered, the words a bitter truth he couldn’t escape. 

        He couldn’t bear to share the burden of his restored memories—not when he knew that doing so would only deepen the wounds that already lay between them. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t ease their suffering or bring back the life they’d lost. All it would do was summon the same relentless tide of pain and remorse that had haunted him since the accident. And he knew Yoo Joonghyuk would blame himself for every bit of it.

        Yes, he felt shattered, desperate, cast aside by the person he had given everything for. But even in his grief, he knew he had no excuse for what he’d done. His rash, desperate act had cost them their child—a life so precious to both him and Yoo Joonghyuk, a life that would never return.

        There was no going back, no forgiveness waiting at the end of this path. 

        Kim Dokja’s voice broke as he whispered into the emptiness, "I’m sorry." A sob tore through him, raw and unrelenting, shaking his entire frame. He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, the ache inside so profound it felt as though his heart was being ripped apart.  

        Sorry.

        The words hung in the air, fragile and meaningless. They weren’t enough. They could never be enough—for Yoo Joonghyuk, for their child, or even for himself. He was unforgiven—and in his heart, he knew he always would be. 

        Because fate never forgets, and fate wants him never to forget.

        The next morning, Yoo Joonghyuk returned home quietly. He eased the door open, careful not to make a sound that might disturb Kim Dokja’s sleep. Instead of heading straight to find him, Yoo Joonghyuk made his way to the kitchen. There, he unpacked the take-out boxes he had picked up on his way back. A strange medley of breakfast foods stared back at him—Chinese dumplings and congee alongside scrambled eggs and toast. It was an odd mix, but he knew it was exactly the kind of breakfast Kim Dokja loved. And if it brought even the smallest smile to Kim Dokja’s face, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t mind the absurdity of it.

        Once everything was prepared and set neatly on the table, Yoo Joonghyuk finally ventured to their bedroom. He paused in the doorway, his gaze softening as it fell upon Kim Dokja, still sound asleep. For a moment, he simply stood there, content in the sight of the peaceful rise and fall of Kim Dokja’s chest. 

        Gently, Yoo Joonghyuk stepped closer and reached for the blinds, pulling them up just enough to let the golden light of morning spill into the room. The soft warmth illuminated Kim Dokja’s features, and Yoo Joonghyuk sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him too much.

        The slight dip in the mattress stirred Kim Dokja, who blinked groggily as he woke. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, meeting Yoo Joonghyuk’s quiet gaze.

        “Good morning,” Yoo Joonghyuk greeted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the delicate tranquillity of the moment. “I’m back.” 

        To Yoo Joonghyuk’s dismay, he immediately noticed the dark circles beneath Kim Dokja’s eyes. His gaze lingered on the subtle puffiness and redness of Kim Dokja’s eyelids—signs that didn’t lie. Had Kim Dokja been crying? His chest tightened at the thought. What could have happened? What could have driven Kim Dokja to tears in the short time he’d been away? 

        “Are you alright?” Yoo Joonghyuk’s concern seeped into his voice, unable to be masked. “What’s wrong? Did you not sleep well?” 

        Kim Dokja shifted uncomfortably under Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze, understanding all too well what prompted the questions. Yoo Joonghyuk had noticed. There was no hiding it from him, but—he couldn’t bear to tell the truth. Not now. Not like this.

        “I’m okay,” Kim Dokja murmured, his voice barely steady. “It’s just—just—” He faltered, swallowing hard to regain composure. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all. Maybe it’s because… you weren’t here.” The words tumbled out, an excuse meant to soothe Yoo Joonghyuk’s worries. But even as he spoke, Kim Dokja could feel the weight of the truth pressing down on his chest. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk wrapped Kim Dokja in a gentle embrace, his heart heavy with guilt. So that was it. He shouldn’t have left Kim Dokja alone—not when his world still teetered on such unstable ground. Kim Dokja needed someone by his side now more than ever.  

        “I’m sorry,” Yoo Joonghyuk murmured, his voice soft and filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”  

        Kim Dokja shook his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not your fault, Joonghyuk-ssi. You have responsibilities. Things to take care of.”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk forced a faint smile, though his heart clenched. He wanted to say that Kim Dokja mattered more than anything else—that he should have been his first priority. But he didn’t. The last thing he wanted was to make Kim Dokja feel worse. “I got us breakfast,” he said instead, keeping his tone light. “Let’s eat together.”  

        Kim Dokja hesitated. After a night of harrowing realisations, his mind brimmed with things he wanted to say, words he longed to share with Yoo Joonghyuk. Yet now, sitting in front of him, the weight of those emotions made the words evaporate into nothingness. Left with no other option, he nodded silently and followed Yoo Joonghyuk to the table. 

        The breakfast was quieter than Yoo Joonghyuk had anticipated. He had hoped to see Kim Dokja smile when he saw the thoughtful spread he had prepared—his favourite mix of Chinese and Western dishes. Instead, Kim Dokja sat there, staring blankly at the food before him.  

        Kim Dokja ate, but it was mechanical. He said nothing, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk to watch him silently, a growing unease gnawing at his chest. There was something in Kim Dokja’s distant gaze, a heaviness that told him countless thoughts were swirling behind those tired eyes—thoughts he wasn’t ready to share.  

        “Please tell me if something’s wrong,” Yoo Joonghyuk said softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence. “And don’t tell me everything’s fine. I can see it’s not.”  

        Kim Dokja froze, his spoon hovering over his bowl. His eyes remained fixed downward, but the words reached him clearly, resonating in the quiet room. Of course Yoo Joonghyuk could tell something was wrong—he always could.  

        “If I’ve done something wrong,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued, his tone gentler now, “or if I said something I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”  

        He hoped those words would be enough to coax Kim Dokja into opening up, to let him in. But instead of the response he was expecting, Yoo Joonghyuk was met with silence. Slowly, Kim Dokja lowered his spoon, his shoulders trembling as tears began to spill silently down his cheeks.  

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart clenched at the sight. “Dokja,” he whispered, his voice filled with worry. He moved closer, wanting to reach out, but hesitant, afraid of pushing too hard.  

        Kim Dokja didn’t look up, his hands gripping the edge of the table as though to anchor himself. The tears came steadily now, quiet and unrelenting, as if years of unspoken pain had finally found an escape.  

        “I—” Kim Dokja choked on the words, almost breaking. But whatever he wanted to say seemed to dissolve before it could be voiced, leaving only the sound of his uneven breaths and the faint clink of his spoon against the bowl.  

        “Kim Dokja? What’s wrong? Did I—” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice wavered, his usual composure slipping as panic took hold. “I didn’t mean to—” He stood abruptly, fumbling for a tissue, desperate to wipe away the tears cascading down Kim Dokja’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I shouldn’t have pressured you to say anything if you’re not ready. I just— I just—” I’m just being stupid. As always.   

        Kim Dokja shook his head furiously, his tears blurring his vision. “You’re not at fault. It’s me. I’m sorry, Joonghyuk-ssi. I just ruined your morning.” His voice cracked with each word, the guilt laced in every syllable.  

        Yoo Joonghyuk stepped closer, his own heart aching at the sight of Kim Dokja breaking in front of him. He reached out and took Kim Dokja’s trembling hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “You could never ruin anything. In fact… you’re the reason I have another morning to wake up to.”  

        The sincerity in Yoo Joonghyuk’s words was unshakable, but they seemed to pierce deeper into Kim Dokja instead of soothing him. His sobs grew louder, his chest heaving as the weight of his emotions became unbearable. Yoo Joonghyuk could only watch helplessly, his grip tightening on Kim Dokja’s hand as if that alone could keep him from falling apart completely.  

        “Why—why are you so kind to me? After all—after all that I’ve done?” Kim Dokja’s voice trembled, his words drenched in despair.  

        Yoo Joonghyuk leaned closer, his brows knitting together as he searched Kim Dokja’s face. “What?” he asked softly. “What are you talking about? You’ve done nothing wrong.”  

        Kim Dokja’s hands clenched into fists on his lap, his breath hitching. “I—I made a terrible mistake. I’ve lost—” His voice broke, the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing heavily between them.  

        Lost? Was he thinking about his memory? The fractured pieces of their shared life that he couldn’t piece together? Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart ached as understanding settled in. He exhaled quietly, a small, reassuring smile curving his lips. He shook his head gently. “I don’t mind,” he said, his voice steady and kind. “As long as you’re here with me, it doesn’t matter if you don’t remember me.”  

        Kim Dokja’s lips quivered, his tears threatening to spill again. “But… I—I’ve lost—”  

        “It’s okay,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted, his tone tender but firm. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. I don’t mind you losing your memory.” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “We’ve already been through so much. We can always make new memories, Kim Dokja.”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk certainly didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and he also didn’t have the courage to bring it up. But still— “I don’t deserve you, Joonghyuk-ssi. I don’t deserve your kindness— I— I can’t—” Kim Dokja whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t deserve your kindness— I— I can’t—”

        “Stop it, Dokja-ya.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s tone softened, yet there was an urgency to it. “Don’t say that. And don’t ever believe for a second that you’re undeserving. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. I… I lost you once. And I—” His voice cracked as a single tear slid down his cheek. “If something I’ve said or done made you feel like this… then I’m sorry. I truly am—”

        “No!” Kim Dokja interrupted, his words coming out in a frantic rush. “You don’t need to apologise! It’s my fault! I’m the one to blame—I’ve disappointed—”

        “Enough.” Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off, his voice trembling, but his hands steady as they reached out for Kim Dokja’s. “Please, can we not talk about this? You’ve done nothing wrong. You could never disappoint me, not in this life, not in any other. If there’s anyone who’s a disappointment, it’s me.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze fell, his chest tightening with the weight of words he couldn’t say. He wanted to confess—to tell Kim Dokja how deeply he despised him during his memoryless days, how his cruelty had driven him away when he needed comfort the most. He wanted to admit that his own actions, thoughtless and cold, had cost them the life of their child. But the words stuck in his throat like a dagger. No. He couldn’t tell him. Not now. Perhaps not ever. 

        Kim Dokja didn’t need that truth; he didn’t deserve to bear that burden, too. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around Kim Dokja’s trembling hand. His mind raced, his chest aching with the weight of unspoken words. Whatever it was—whatever Kim Dokja was holding back—he needed to say this first.

        “Dokja-ya…” his voice faltered, thick with emotion. “If I ask you for something, can you—can you promise to fulfil it for me?”

        Kim Dokja froze, his breath catching as he stared at Yoo Joonghyuk in silence. There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes, something raw and unguarded. What could he possibly want?

        “I…” Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated, struggling to form the words. “I want—you and I—us—to leave the past behind.” His voice wavered. “I’m not saying the past wasn’t important, or that it wasn’t worth remembering. I just… I feel that it’s enough to have the present.” He paused, his heart pounding in his chest. “Wait. That sounded selfish. I’m sorry, I—”

        “Is that really what you want?” Kim Dokja’s voice was quiet, but the question cut through Yoo Joonghyuk’s rambling like a blade. 

        Yoo Joonghyuk fell silent, his grip on Kim Dokja’s hand loosening slightly as doubt seeped into his mind. Was it really what he wanted? To erase the weight of the past, to let Kim Dokja forget the cruelty he had inflicted on him? Deep down, he knew the answer. It wasn’t for Kim Dokja’s sake. It was for his own. 

        He wanted Kim Dokja to keep forgetting—not because it would heal him, but because it would shield Yoo Joonghyuk from the truth of his own failures. He didn’t want to face the hatred he felt he deserved. He didn’t want Kim Dokja to remember what it had cost them both. 

        But as he looked into Kim Dokja’s searching eyes, his resolve faltered, guilt clawing at the edges of his heart. How could he be so selfish? How could he ask for something so cruel? How could he ask Kim Dokja to forget years of his devotion? How could he ask Kim Dokja to forget their unborn child? As if nothing ever happened— 

        It was not fair.

        “If that’s what you want, then I don’t mind,” Kim Dokja said softly, his voice carrying an almost painful quietness.

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Really? Could Kim Dokja really be willing to forget everything, to leave it all behind? His heart seemed to skip a beat, hope rising, then immediately crushed by the weight of his own fears. 

        “But, what if—” Kim Dokja continued, his words slow, hesitant. “What if one day I remember everything? What if it all comes back to me?”

        The question pierced through Yoo Joonghyuk like a blade, the chill of uncertainty creeping through him. His hands—already cold—tightened around Kim Dokja’s as he fought to maintain composure. He didn’t want Kim Dokja to see the terror in his eyes. Please, don’t notice, he begged silently. 

        “Then—then it’s great,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, the words coming out far too quickly, far too unconvincing. He hoped Kim Dokja wouldn’t hear the tremor in his voice, the crack of panic that laced every syllable. Please, let him not hear it.  

        “We—We could continue what we’d left,” he added, the weight of his own words dragging at him.

        Kim Dokja tilted his head, still searching, still not quite convinced. “Like what?”

        Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated, his thoughts spiralling into a haze of doubt. What could he say? What could he promise? He clenched his jaw, struggling to steady his shaking hands as his mind scrambled for something, anything, to make this feel like a path forward.

        “I would propose to you,” he said, the words coming out in a barely-there whisper. “We— we’ll get married and—”

        And then the words stopped. 

        His chest tightened painfully, the rest of the sentence choking in his throat. A child. A family. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say it because it felt like an unbearable truth hovering just out of reach. He was terrified— terrified —that even mentioning it would bring back everything they’d lost. That it would force Kim Dokja to remember not only their hopes, but the unthinkable loss that had shattered them both. The child they would never have. 

        The silence hung between them like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t bring himself to say the words, and he feared that not saying them would break him even more.

        “And we will have a baby.”

        Kim Dokja’s quiet but sudden reply stopped Yoo Joonghyuk in his tracks. His brow furrowed, confusion and an unspoken heaviness settling over him. He stayed silent, unable to respond immediately.

        “I always wanted to have a baby girl,” Kim Dokja continued, his voice trembling slightly but carrying a warmth that Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t ignore. “I can see it so clearly. You building a baby crib beside our bed, watching her while she sleeps. And when it’s time, you teaching her how to stand, how to take her first steps.”

        Kim Dokja’s lips curled into a soft smile, his gaze distant as though he were peering into a life he could almost reach. “I can see all of it, really. You’d be such a good father, Joonghyuk-ssi. You’d always be there for her when she needs you. You’d walk her to school, hold her hand on her first day. Be the loudest silent supporter at every sports day or performance she takes part in.” He paused, a small chuckle escaping him. “I can even picture you glaring at any boy who dares to get too close to her.”

        Yoo Joonghyuk remained frozen, the vivid image Kim Dokja painted clashing violently with the storm in his own heart. Kim Dokja's smile grew softer, almost wistful. “And I can see you, standing tall on her graduation day, a proud bouquet of flowers in your hands, looking at her like she’s your whole world.”

        Each word struck Yoo Joonghyuk like a sharp reminder of the life they had once envisioned.  Yes. It was once their dream. He could see it too—too clearly. His throat tightened painfully, and he lowered his head to hide the tears threatening to fall. 

        Kim Dokja had stopped speaking, his gaze locking onto Yoo Joonghyuk’s trembling eyes. For a moment, neither of them said a word.  

        “Joonghyuk-ah, I’m sorry. I ruined it all.”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s breath hitched, his chest tightening. “What… what are you talking about?” What did Kim Dokja just say? No. Wait. Could it be that— 

        “I’ve been dreaming. The same dream, night after night.” Kim Dokja’s hands trembled in his lap, his gaze falling as though afraid to meet Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes.  

        Yoo Joonghyuk held his breath. No. Yoo Joonghyuk whispered under his breath. His heart raced, dread pooling in his stomach. No. Impossible. No. Not now. 

        Kim Dokja looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I saw a man in my dream. He was carrying a baby.” His voice quivered. “I could tell he loved that baby more than anything. I could see it in his eyes, the way he held her like she was his entire world. Yet, every time I tried to go to him, to reach out…” Kim Dokja swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “He’d turn away. He’d stand and carry the baby further and further away from me.”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk sat frozen, his hands gripping his knees so tightly they turned white. He knew. He knew exactly what Kim Dokja was going to say next, but he couldn’t stop it.  

        “I called out to him,” Kim Dokja continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I begged him to stop. But he couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t see me.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if trying to steady the ache. “And then… there was nothing I could do when he—” His voice cracked as he choked back a sob. “When he jumped out of the window with the baby in his arms.”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk felt his entire world shatter in that moment. His breath came in shallow gasps as he fought against the wave of emotions threatening to pull him under. “Dokja-ya…” His voice was hoarse, barely audible.  

        Kim Dokja closed his eyes, his tears falling freely now. “Joonghyuk-ah… who was he? Was it… was it me?”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t answer right away. Words failed him, lodged in the ache of his throat, suffocating under the weight of unspoken guilt. His chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths, burdened by everything he could never take back.  

        Instead, he reached out, his hands shaking as they found their way to Kim Dokja. With a fragile desperation, he pulled him into his arms, holding him close like a man clinging to something already slipping through his fingers. His grip trembled, not from weakness, but from the sheer force of his emotions—too raw, too overwhelming to contain.  

        “I’m sorry,” Yoo Joonghyuk whispered, his voice breaking against Kim Dokja’s hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”  

        The words, quiet yet heavy with regret, fell between them like a shattering glass. Kim Dokja froze in the embrace, his breath hitching as the weight of the apology seeped into his very being. It was an apology that needed no further explanation. And in that moment, pressed against Yoo Joonghyuk’s trembling form, Kim Dokja felt the answer to the question he had been too afraid to ask.  

        He didn’t need Yoo Joonghyuk to say it. He already knew.  

        It was him.  

        It had always been him — the man in his dreams. The figure who carried the child he could never touch. The shadow of grief that had lingered, unspoken, between them all this time.  

        Kim Dokja’s eyes burned as the memories surged back, relentless and unforgiving. The fragments pieced together with agonising clarity—the joy they had once dared to hope for, the warmth of a fleeting dream, and the unbearable loss that followed.  

        He remembered.  

        Every detail, every wound. He remembered it all.  

        Because fate, cruel and relentless, never forgets.  

        Tears slid down his cheeks, silent witnesses to the truth now laid bare. He clung to Yoo Joonghyuk, his hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would mean losing everything again. 

        And Yoo Joonghyuk, tears streaming unchecked, held him just as fiercely. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one to blame,” He rasped, his voice thick with anguish. His hands trembled as he clutched at Kim Dokja’s arms, as though desperate to hold onto what little they had left. “Because of my stupidity, I chased you away. It wasn’t your fault—it was mine! My fault! All of it!” His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his confession. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry!”  

        Tears blurred his vision, but the memories were sharper than ever—the bitter echoes of regret, the moments he could never undo. Yes, it was the truth, it was all his fault. Every bit of it. If only he had believed Kim Dokja back then, listened to the words that he now replayed in his mind over and over again. If only he had opened his heart instead of succumbing to his pride and fears, none of this would have happened.  

        Kim Dokja wouldn’t have left. Their child would still be alive. They could have had the life they dreamed of together. But instead, he had ruined everything.  

        “Why?” Kim Dokja’s voice cracked through his sobs, raw and trembling with pain. “Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve told me the moment you found me! Why did you stay silent?”  

        The question hit Yoo Joonghyuk like a dagger to the heart, its sharp edge twisting deeper with every second of silence that followed. He stared at Kim Dokja, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. How could he explain it? How could he even begin to admit that his silence had been rooted in fear?  

        He lowered his head, unable to meet Kim Dokja’s tear-filled gaze. The truth was too cruel, too cowardly. He had wanted to confess, God knew how many times he had wanted to spill everything—to beg for forgiveness, to atone for the unforgivable. But each time, the same fear had paralyzed him. Yet, he was scared. Terrified that Kim Dokja would leave him again. That the truth would drive them further apart instead of bringing them closer.  

        “I…” Yoo Joonghyuk choked on his words, his voice faltering. “I was afraid… Afraid that you’d leave me. That even if you remembered, you’d still… choose to abandon me.” His voice cracked as the weight of his fears spilled out. “And it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”  Kim Dokja’s sobs echoed in the room, a mirror to the torment in Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart. The silence between them was heavy, suffocating, filled with the weight of all the things they couldn’t take back.  

        But despite it all, Yoo Joonghyuk reached out, his trembling hand brushing against Kim Dokja’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything. I was a coward. I—” He couldn’t finish. The words dissolved into the raw, unspoken truth of his tears.  

        “I can’t.”  

        That was all Yoo Joonghyuk could manage, his voice cracking under the weight of the truth. “That’s why… that’s why I asked you to leave it all in the past. That’s why I wanted you to forget.” His words trembled, revealing the pain he could no longer contain.  

        But fate was cruel.  

        It never forgets. It always finds a way to drag the past back into the light, no matter how deeply buried.  

        Kim Dokja’s voice broke through the silence, filled with raw, aching guilt. “I’ve killed our child, Joonghyuk-ah. How… how can you still accept me after everything you know? How can you still treat me kindly after what I’ve done?” His hands trembled as he gripped his own arms, his body shaking with the weight of his confession. “I’ve done something unforgivable. You should punish me, hit me, hate me—anything but this. Why—why won’t you—”  

        “Stop it, Dokja-ya!” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice roared, cutting through the suffocating air between them. He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out for Kim Dokja. “I told you—it wasn’t your fault! None of it! It was me. It was my doing!”  

        His voice cracked as he poured out his guilt, his chest heaving with the weight of his words. “I’m the one who sent you away. I’m the one who pushed you to the brink, heartlessly, without thinking about the cost. Because of me, you—” His voice faltered, breaking under the weight of the memory. “You almost lost your life. And if you had… if you had…”  

        Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hands gripping Kim Dokja’s shoulders as though to anchor him in place. “I would never forgive myself. Not in this life. Not in any life.”  

        The room fell silent, save for the sound of their ragged breathing. Yoo Joonghyuk’s words hung in the air, raw and unrelenting, refusing to be ignored. It was a confession born from love, regret, and the unbearable fear of losing the one thing he could never replace.  But then—

        “Now… what do we do?” Kim Dokja’s voice came as barely a whisper, fragile and trembling, like the faint echo of a question neither of them could answer.

        Yoo Joonghyuk froze, the weight of those words crashing down on him. What could they do now? After everything—after the relentless storms that shattered their lives and swept away their fragile happiness—was there truly anything left? Could they dare to dream of a rainbow after all the wreckage? Could they return to what they once were? Could they ever reclaim the life they had before everything fell apart?

        No.

        I’m afraid not.

        They both knew the truth. They could not.

        Because fate never forgets.

        However, one thing you should always remember. The thing about fate is that it’s unpredictable— you may say it is playing games on you, tricks you cannot escape from, you never know where or what end it will lead you to, or how it will unfold. You never truly know where it will take you or how its intricate design will unfold. And perhaps the most bewildering part? You may never fully understand the purpose behind it all.

        Fate cannot be defied or fought against. You can hate it, despise it, curse it when life feels cruel or unfair. You can blame it when your dreams crumble or when the world turns its back on you.

        But let me tell you something.

        Fate never forgets.

        And the reason why fate never forgets, is because we carry our fate in the name of love. Fate brings you to ‘love’ when the time is right, that one day, by fate, you’ll encounter the right person in the most unexpected of places. Fate guides you to love, waiting patiently for the right moment, the right place, the right person. One day, without warning, it brings you to that perfect intersection—where love finds you in the most unexpected of places. And in that moment, you’ll understand that fate’s greatest purpose is not to control or confine but to create—

        A miracle.

        Isn’t that the essence of life? Isn’t that the ultimate purpose of fate?

        To find love. To cherish it. 

        To make this fleeting life worthwhile.

        Is this the fate Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja share? 

        Were their lives intertwined by the threads of fate, pulling them together despite the chaos that tried to tear them apart? Was Yoo Joonghyuk truly fated to find Kim Dokja and love him until his last breath? And was Kim Dokja destined to meet Yoo Joonghyuk, to carve a life together from the ruins of their pain, and hold on until the end?

        Perhaps you could find their answers to these questions in the moment they stood at the airport, facing each other. Kim Dokja's hand gripped the handle of his luggage, his shoulders burdened not only by its weight but by the decisions that led him here. Yoo Joonghyuk stood across from him, a storm in his eyes—a man who had bared his soul, who had admitted his fears, his failures, and his love.

        They had poured everything out, stripping themselves raw. Every heartache they had buried for years had come spilling forth like an unstoppable tide. The fear, the despair, the shattered dreams—they had laid it all bare. They had asked for forgiveness, each begging in their own way, not for absolution but for understanding.

        Yet forgiveness, as profound as it is, wasn’t what truly mattered here.

        It didn’t matter if Kim Dokja forgave Yoo Joonghyuk for not believing in him when it mattered most. It didn’t matter if Yoo Joonghyuk forgave Kim Dokja for succumbing to a moment of despair that led to a loss so devastating it could never be repaired. 

        It didn’t matter if what they did was forgiven or not.

        Because deep down, we already know the answer. In the name of love, they would forgive each other. It’s true—choosing not to forgive, to turn their backs and walk away, would have been easier. To convince themselves that separating, cutting all ties, and leaving everything behind was the safer, less painful option. It would have been simpler to believe that their lives could start anew if they erased each other from their hearts.

        But that wouldn’t be love.

        Love isn’t about taking the easiest path; it’s about enduring, even when it hurts. It’s about choosing to stay, even when leaving feels like the most logical choice. After everything they had been through, there was one thing that remained unchanged—Kim Dokja loved Yoo Joonghyuk with a depth that defied reason, and Yoo Joonghyuk loved him just as fiercely.

        And the greatest virtue of love is forgiveness. But forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting.

        Forgiving is a promise. Forgetting is a loss. 

        And Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk had already lost too much to ever let go of what truly mattered.

        Fate never forgets. 

        No matter how desperately Kim Dokja wished to bury the past, the memory of his lost child lingered, a shadow that haunted him in the quiet hours of the night. It robbed him of sleep, leaving him alone with the unbearable weight of his grief. And for Yoo Joonghyuk, no matter how much he longed for redemption, he couldn’t escape the bitter truth—it was his own actions that had driven Kim Dokja away, forcing him to the very edge of despair.  

        In the end, forgetting was a luxury neither could afford.  

        The pain clung to them, a wound that refused to heal, reopening each time they looked back. It wasn’t just the loss of their child, or the mistakes that led them there—it was the deep-seated belief that they had failed each other, failed the love they had once promised to protect.  

        The one thing they could never forgive wasn’t each other… it was themselves.  

        And so, here they stood, caught in the fragile stillness of a moment neither wanted to break, but both knew had to end. The airport lights cast a faint glow over their weary faces, highlighting the sadness etched into their features. Kim Dokja, with trembling resolve, finally found the courage to speak the words he had rehearsed so many times in his mind.

        “Goodbye, Joonghyuk-ah,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of their shared history.

        Yoo Joonghyuk stood rooted, the words striking him like a blade he’d been bracing for but could never truly prepare to face. His hands balled into fists at his sides, trembling with the effort to hold himself back. He remembered Han Sooyoung’s words, her desperate plea to honour Kim Dokja’s choice if this day ever came.

        If he remembers and still chooses to leave, you have no right to stop him.

        It was a promise he had made with his lips but not with his heart.

        Kim Dokja explained his reasons with the quiet conviction of someone who had long wrestled with his own pain. He needed to move away, to escape the chaos of the past, to retreat somewhere far from the world where he could finally give himself the time and space to heal. Yoo Joonghyuk could see the truth in his words. Both of them had been broken by everything that had happened, scarred in ways that wouldn’t fade with time alone.

        And yet, his heart rebelled. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to beg Kim Dokja to stay, to fight against the ache that had settled in his chest since the moment those words left Kim Dokja’s lips. But even in his pain, he knew. He knew he couldn’t ask Kim Dokja to stay when he himself was too fractured to offer him the healing he needed.

        So Yoo Joonghyuk did the one thing he never thought he’d be able to do.

        He let him go.

        It wasn’t that Yoo Joonghyuk lacked the will to fight for them—far from it. He loved Kim Dokja with a depth that defied words. But he also knew, with a clarity sharpened by pain, that Kim Dokja was stronger than he could ever be. Kim Dokja needed this time, this distance, to piece himself back together. And Yoo Joonghyuk would respect that.  

        He would wait.  

        No matter how long it took, a decade or even a hundred years, Yoo Joonghyuk would wait for Kim Dokja. As long as there was breath in his body, he would hold on. Because some loves were worth the wait.  

        He would carry the memories like a torch, burning brightly even in the coldest nights. He would remember the ache of looking into Kim Dokja’s eyes, torn between letting him go and holding on. He would remember the deafening silence that followed, the loud, desperate scream in his mind urging him to pull Kim Dokja back into his arms.  

        He would remember those first nights alone, haunted by the image of Kim Dokja’s plane fading into the horizon, carrying the one person he couldn’t imagine his life without. He would remember the numbing emptiness that seeped into every corner of his days, the freezing loneliness that gripped him without mercy.  

        But amidst the pain, there would also be warmth. He would remember the joy of receiving every text, every email Kim Dokja sent, holding onto each word as if it were a lifeline. He would remember the quiet happiness of seeing Kim Dokja’s face on their video calls, the way his heart lifted just to hear him speak of his day.  

        He would remember every fleeting smile, every soft laugh, and the bittersweet comfort of virtual hugs and kisses exchanged across the distance. Those moments became his anchor, the fragile thread that kept him tethered to hope.  

        Yoo Joonghyuk had long since lost track of the passing suns and moons, the endless cycle of days and nights that blurred together since their parting. The hellos and goodbyes they exchanged, no matter how tender, felt like fleeting whispers against the relentless march of time. He couldn’t count how many stories they had shared from afar, nor the countless words of encouragement offered by well-meaning friends. Even his psychologist’s advice to focus on positivity became little more than background noise.  

        He didn’t need those reminders.  

        Because Yoo Joonghyuk never forgot.  

        Through every quiet moment, every sleepless night, he held steadfast to the belief that one day—one miraculous day—he would once again stand face to face with the one who held his heart in their hands. Faith carried him through the loneliest hours, the faith that this separation was not an ending, but merely a long, arduous pause.  

        And then, that day came.  

        He could still remember every detail. The way his heart thundered in his chest as he rushed to the airport, weaving through throngs of strangers with an urgency that consumed him. His breath caught as his eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for that one familiar figure.  

        And then he saw him.  

        Kim Dokja stood there, and in an instant, the years of waiting, of longing, melted away. Yoo Joonghyuk remembered the curve of his smile, the gentle light in his eyes, and the way it felt to be enveloped in his arms. Time had passed, yes—but the moment they reunited, it was as if the universe itself had clicked back into place.  

        It felt right.  

        Pulling Kim Dokja into a fierce embrace, Yoo Joonghyuk could finally breathe again. His voice trembled as he whispered, “Kim Dokja... you’ve finally returned to me.”   

        And in that moment, it was as if every heartbreak, every sleepless night, every ounce of pain had been worth it. Because this was love—timeless, unyielding, and true.

        He remembered it all—the courage it took to slip the ring onto Kim Dokja’s finger, hands steady this time, not from desperation but from the unwavering certainty that they had both healed. He remembered the tears streaming down Kim Dokja’s face, mirroring his own, tears of joy and relief, a testament to how far they had come. He remembered how the weight of those lonely nights faded, replaced by the quiet peace of waking to sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting soft shadows on the sleeping form of the person he loved most.  

        He remembered every detail vividly, as if fate itself had etched those moments into his soul.  

        He remembered the day the wedding bells rang for them, echoing a promise that felt as eternal as the sky. He remembered the laughter of family and friends, the clinking of champagne glasses raised in celebration, and the heartfelt wishes spoken in their honour.  

        Above all, he remembered the little flickering dots on the sonogram—the first glimpse of the life they had created together.  

        Their child.  

        This time, he knew better. This time, he held onto them with all his strength, cherishing every fleeting moment, protecting what they had built with a love that had endured so much. He remembered their dream—a life filled with warmth, resilience, and hope—and he remembered every step he needed to take to make it real.  

        Because fate never forgets.  

        Fate carried their story, their pain, and their joy. It didn’t let them forget the lessons they learned, the wounds they healed, and the love they rediscovered.  

        In the end, it is always a choice— to love, to hate, to forgive.  

        Yet, fate never forgets.  

        And perhaps, fate doesn’t want you to forget this story either.  

THE END.