The snow was falling harder that morning, thick enough to bury the paths they had walked so many times before. Hana wrapped herself in her shawl and smiled faintly at Joon as he laced her boots.
"I'll fetch water from the stream," she said.
Joon frowned, tightening the laces too much. "I'll come with you."
She touched his wrist gently. "Stay. You look so tired. I won't be long."
Her smile lingered, soft and sad, before she turned and stepped into the snow.
Joon watched her figure fade into the white. For the first time, he let himself close his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to breathe.
When he opened them again, the snow was untouched. No footprints. No trail. No Hana.
At first, he thought he was dreaming again. He stumbled through the drifts, calling her name, searching for any sign of her. His voice cracked in the stillness, but the snow swallowed every sound.
"Hana!"
No answer.
He pushed deeper into the forest. The trees leaned like skeletal watchers, their branches groaning under the weight of frost. He followed where he thought her trail might have been, but the path twisted, closed, disappeared.
Then — a whisper.
Not Hana's voice. Many voices. Faint, thin, layered on top of each other like wind through broken glass.
"Gone… gone… gone…"
The sound made his skin crawl. He spun in circles, searching the whiteness, but there was nothing — only the falling snow and the echo of those vanished voices.
By nightfall, he returned to the hut, shaking, half-frozen. The door creaked open to emptiness. The hearth cold. The bed untouched.
He sank to his knees, clutching the fabric of Hana's shawl where she had left it draped across the chair. It smelled faintly of her — faintly of warmth.
But as he pressed his face into it, the threads unraveled in his hands, disintegrating into dust.
Joon gasped, stumbling back. The dust drifted upward, caught in the moonlight, swirling like snow.
And then, from the shadows of the hut, the whispering voices returned, sharper now, almost mocking.
"She is not yours. She was never yours. None of this was yours."
Joon covered his ears, but the voices seeped into him, cracking something deep inside his chest.
For the first time, he was truly alone.
And the snow outside never stopped falling.