Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Before she knew it, she was five months pregnant.
Somehow, during those months, Ji-hoon had become a constant presence in her life.
He accompanied her to every antenatal appointment.
Sat beside her during ultrasounds.
Helped her compare baby clothes and strollers.
Carried shopping bags she insisted she could carry herself.
Sometimes they talked for hours.
Sometimes they sat together in comfortable silence.
Neither of them was fully healed.
Neither of them had all the answers.
Yet somehow, they understood each other.
Two incomplete people trying to find pieces of themselves again.
That evening, Ji-hoon had reserved a table at a restaurant overlooking the Han River.
The city lights reflected across the water.
For a while, the conversation was easy.
The kind that came naturally when two people spent enough time together.
After dinner, Seo-ah excused herself briefly to use the restroom.
Ji-hoon leaned back in his chair.
Then he froze.
A familiar face stood near the entrance.
Se-jin.
For a moment, neither moved.
Neither expected to see the other there.
When Seo-ah returned, Ji-hoon stood immediately.
"Can you wait for me in the car?" he asked.
She looked between him and the woman standing nearby.
Then nodded.
"I'll wait."
The moment Seo-ah disappeared from sight, Se-jin let out a quiet laugh.
Though there was no amusement in it.
Her eyes drifted toward the parking lot.
"That was fast."
Ji-hoon remained silent.
"A year and a half."
She smiled.
A smile that looked more painful than tears.
"You moved on quickly."
His chest tightened.
"Se-jin…"
She looked away.
For a long moment, the only sound between them was the soft music playing through the restaurant.
Finally, Ji-hoon spoke.
"I owe you an apology."
She laughed again.
This time more bitterly.
"Only one?"
He lowered his eyes.
The guilt had never left him.
Not after all this time
"Se-jin…"
He lowered his eyes.
"I spent a long time trying to convince myself that what I felt for you was enough."
His voice faltered.
"Maybe because you were kind to me. Maybe because you made me feel less alone."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"But every time I thought about our future, I was afraid."
Se-jin stared at him silently.
"I kept asking myself what was wrong with me."
He looked away.
"The truth is… I don't think I ever learned how to love someone properly."
His hands tightened at his sides.
"When you said we should get married, I wanted to become the man you deserved."
"But all I felt was anxiety."
"Fear."
"The constant feeling that sooner or later everything would fall apart."
He swallowed hard.
"I wasn't rejecting you because you weren't enough."
"I was rejecting you because I didn't know what to do with the love you gave me."
A painful smile appeared on his face.
"Maybe that sounds selfish."
"Maybe it is"
Se-jin stared at him.
The tears in her eyes finally escaped.
"So that's it?"
She laughed through them.
"After all this time?"
Ji-hoon couldn't answer.
Because there was no answer that would make it hurt less.
She wiped her face quickly.
Then looked directly at him.
"You know what's funny?"
Her voice shook.
"I always knew."
He looked up.
"I knew there was a part of you I could never reach."
The words landed harder than any accusation.
"You were standing beside me."
She smiled sadly.
"But you were always somewhere else."
Ji-hoon lowered his head.
She wasn't wrong.
Not then.
Not now.
After a moment, Se-jin took a deep breath.
Then extended her hand.
The gesture surprised him.
"Let's stop here."
Her voice was gentle now.
Gentler than he deserved.
"I don't want to hate you."
Ji-hoon looked at her hand.
Then slowly took it.
"I hope you're happy."
His voice was barely audible.
Se-jin smiled.
This time it was genuine.
Small.
Fragile.
But genuine.
"You too."
When Ji-hoon returned to the car, Seo-ah looked up from her phone.
The moment she saw his face, she knew something was wrong.
She didn't ask immediately.
Instead, she waited.
After several minutes of driving, she finally spoke.
"Who was she?"
Ji-hoon kept his eyes on the road.
For a moment, he considered avoiding the question.
Then he sighed.
"Someone who once brought light into my life."
Seo-ah didn't ask anything else.
Sometimes people carried stories that weren't ready to be told.
And sometimes kindness meant waiting.
That night, long after returning home, Ji-hoon stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse.
The city stretched endlessly beneath him.
Millions of lights.
Millions of lives.
Yet he had never felt more alone.
His reflection stared back at him from the glass.
A successful surgeon.
A respected doctor.
A man who spent his days healing others.
And yet…
Some wounds remained untouched.
His thoughts drifted back to the orphanage.
To the years after.
To every goodbye that had shaped him.
An abandoned child never truly forgets.
People often believed abandonment was a single event.
A moment.
A memory.
But it wasn't.
It followed you into adulthood.
Into friendships.
Into love.
Into every relationship you tried to build.
It whispered that everyone eventually leaves.
That love was temporary.
That happiness never stayed.
And after hearing that voice long enough…
You began leaving first.
Before anyone else could.
Ji-hoon closed his eyes.
Maybe that was what he had done to Se-jin.
Maybe that was what he had been doing his entire life.
For the first time, he wondered whether healing other people had become an excuse.
A way to avoid healing himself.