After finishing her lunch, Hae-in stared at the card in her hand for a long moment. Then she dialed Ji-hoon's number.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Too many times.
Just when she thought he wouldn't answer—
"Yeoboseyeo…"
His voice came through, calm, familiar, almost unfairly steady.
"Ye, Ji-hoon-ssi. Hae-in here," she said.
"Ye, Hae-ina," he replied softly.
Her grip tightened around the phone. "Ji-hoon ssi, what is happening? Didn't I tell you I'm not interested in this marriage?" Her voice suddenly grew heavy, soaked with exhaustion. "I asked you to end this. Then what did your family do? Why is the marriage fixed within a week? Are you all… serious?"
On the other end, silence.
"I'm talking to you, Ji-hoon-ssi," she said, hurt creeping into her tone. "Please don't proceed further. This will ruin our lives. Why are you not understanding this?"
Ji-hoon inhaled deeply before speaking, as if steadying himself. "I understand, Hae-ina," he said at last. "I really do." His voice was low, sincere. "I tried to convince my family. I told them everything. I asked them not to go ahead with this."
Her heart stuttered.
"But instead of ending it," he continued slowly, "they called your father… and fixed the marriage for next week."
Hae-in closed her eyes.
Frustration crashed into disappointment, sharp and merciless. "Why don't elders ever understand their children?" she muttered, her voice trembling.
Ji-hoon heard it.
The pain and frustration in her voice. The way her words trembled, as if she was holding herself together by sheer will. His chest clenched painfully. For a brief, foolish second, he wished he could teleport to her side, pull her into his arms, and whisper that everything would be alright.
"Don't worry, Hae-ina," he said gently. "Everything will be fine. I understand your concern." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I really tried to stop this. I did my best. But I couldn't." His voice softened further. "I had to come to Seoul for wedding shopping, early in the morning."
"This is going to be a disaster, Ji-hoon ssi," she whispered, voice breaking. "You're not understanding. I don't want to ruin your life."
There was a pause.
Then Ji-hoon spoke again, quieter now. "Don't stress yourself, Hae-ina. I'll try again. I'll do everything I can to stop this." He hesitated. "And even if… even if this wedding still happens, I'll make sure you're fine. Please don't panic."
She sniffed, the sound small and broken, wiping at her nose. "Please do something, Ji-hoon-ssi," she pleaded softly. "This is serious. Stop this before it happens. Don't ruin your life because of me."
Ji-hoon listened, his heart clenching tighter with every word. "Hmm," he hummed softly, the only response he could manage.
The call ended.
He stood there outside the shopping mall, phone still in his hand, the city moving around him like a blur. Doubt crept in, heavy and sharp. Am I doing the right thing? Am I about to hurt her in ways she might never forgive?
Then another voice rose inside him, unyielding.
This is right. If you let her go now, you'll lose her forever.
He closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head as if to clear the storm. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled.
"I'm sorry, cutie," he murmured to himself. "This might hurt you a little now…" His gaze hardened with resolve. "But one day, you'll understand how much I love you."
And with that, he turned and walked back into the store, carrying both his guilt and his determination with him, unaware of how deeply this choice would reshape both their lives.
********************
Later that evening, the house buzzed again with quiet excitement.
"Waah… unni," Yeobin said, eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through Ji-hoon's picture. "You're really marrying a handsome guy. He's very good-looking."
Hae-in didn't respond.
She sat at the table, pen moving steadily over a notebook, listing guest names with mechanical precision. No pause. No reaction.
Yeobin looked up, confused by the silence. She studied her sister's face, the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her eyes refused to lift.
"What happened, Unni?" she asked gently.
Still no answer.
"Unni… are you okay?" Yeobin asked again, this time softer, closer.
Hae-in's pen stopped.
For a moment, she didn't move. Then she spoke, her voice controlled but edged with something raw.
"I'm telling you this right now, Yeobina," she said, finally looking up. "Do whatever you want in life. Now, when you have time. Don't waste your time on something you're not interested in." Her grip tightened around the pen. "Whether it's your career, your job, your dreams… or even marriage."
Yeobin's smile faded.
"Because if you don't," Hae-in continued, her eyes glistening, face flushed as if holding back a flood, "one day you'll be left with no choice but to agree with others. And your dreams…" Her voice faltered just a little. "They'll get crushed quietly, without anyone even noticing."
She looked away then, back at the list, forcing the pen to move again.
Yeobin stood there, phone forgotten in her hand, suddenly understanding that her unni wasn't giving advice.
She was leaving a warning.
Yeobin looked at her with growing concern. "What happened, unni?" she asked softly. "Are you… Not happy with this marriage?"
Hae-in said nothing. She simply swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing the storm back down.
"Never mind," she said after a moment. "Go help Omma."
She didn't look at her.
Yeobin studied her sister's face for a long, careful moment, as if trying to read between the stillness and the silence. But before she could say anything more, her mother called out to her from the other room. Yeobin hesitated, then turned and walked away, the question still hanging heavy in the air.
Time moved mercilessly after that.
The days blurred into one another, swallowed whole by wedding preparations. Endless phone calls. Guest lists. Shopping. Invitations were being handed out with smiles that felt rehearsed. Laughter filled the house, excitement bounced off the walls, and the week disappeared as it had fallen into a black hole.
And somewhere inside that noise, Hae-in faded.
She moved through the days like a shadow, restless and hollow. Crying silently at night. Staring blankly during the day. She tried again and again to contact Ji-hoon, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could still be stopped. But every time, she was met with the same helpless replies, the same soft assurances that led nowhere.
Slowly, painfully, she began to give up.
On her dreams. On her plans. On the life she had imagined for herself.
Acceptance didn't come gently. It was forced, pressed into her chest until resistance felt useless. Fate, it seemed, had already decided for her.
And now, tomorrow was the wedding day.
The day her life would be bent onto a different path. A trajectory she had never chosen. One that crushed everything she had once planned, but never got the chance to live.
She lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, feeling like parts of her were being erased quietly, piece by piece.
Not all at once.
Just enough to hurt.