The soft rustle of spring leaves danced through the air as the garden swayed in golden afternoon light. It had been years—decades, even—since these paths heard the laughter of old friends, the quiet sighs of past regrets, and the echoes of memories too sacred to forget.

Three figures sat around a weathered wooden table beneath the cherry tree. The blossoms had begun to fall, as if time itself had paused to witness this long-awaited reunion.

Kim Mi-kyung, graceful but visibly aged by life’s turns, poured tea into porcelain cups with careful hands.

“We are very thankful,” she said gently, “that after such a long time… we have finally reached each other again.”

Lee Soon-im, her back straight despite the years, nodded slowly. Her eyes carried both warmth and sorrow.

“I am thankful too. To meet you all again like this… it almost feels like fate.”

Beside them sat Min-kyung’s father-in-law, quiet and observant, his gaze fixed not on the tea, but on the weight behind every word.

They exchanged polite smiles, but the air was heavy — not awkward, but tense, as if something unspoken sat between them.

“Did you not call your granddaughter?” Mi-kyung asked, glancing around the garden.

“She’s at school,” Soon-im replied, setting her cup down.

“Not as a teacher — she’s a journalist. Today, she’s interviewing students about the pressure of exams. You know… so many children nowadays…” her voice faltered, “…they take their own lives because of it. Aaigoo…”

The table fell into silence.

“You know why we’re here, don’t you?” Mi-kyung asked quietly.

Soon-im exhaled, long and heavy. Her hands rested on her lap, steady but tired.

“I know. She’s twenty-five now… And I know that you and my Soo-min once made a promise. That you would one day bring your children together.”

“But,” she added softly, “that isn’t our choice to make. Not anymore. She’s grown. She has every right to choose her own path. I can’t tell her to marry someone just because her mother once made a promise to her best friend.”

Mi-kyung’s lips curved into a slow, understanding smile.

“Soo-im,” said the elder man suddenly, his voice like wind through old pine, “you know the bond our families shared.”

Soon-im looked at him and laughed, a small chuckle full of old memories.

“Aaigoo… You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

He looked away, smiling faintly. The air seemed to soften.

“I understand,” Mi-kyung said, placing her cup down. “We won’t force anything. But… we’ll bring it to them. Gently. I’ll speak to my son. Please, will you speak to your granddaughter?”

She bowed politely.

Soon-im stood, brushing her hands down her skirt with a quiet huff.

“Hffff… I still don’t understand why you and my daughter made that kind of promise. Some things are not in our hands.”

The elder man rose too.

“You remember, don’t you? My son and your son-in-law… they were best friends too. This bond isn’t just between two women. It’s between families.”

“I know we shouldn’t repeat our past… but your daughter and my daughter-in-law… they believed in something.”

“Now, it’s up to you.”

He bowed with quiet dignity.

⸻

Later That Day – A Quiet Road in Seoul

The sky had turned a pale blue-gray as Lee Soon-im walked slowly down the village road, the scent of cherry blossoms in the air. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she had memorized more deeply than her own.

📞 Soon-im: “Are you done with your work, dear?”

📞 Ha-eun: “Ma, I’m on break. Is everything okay?”

📞 Soon-im: “Today… I met Kim Mi-kyung.”

📞 Ha-eun: “Wait—what?!”

⸻

[To be continued…]

⸻

The wind was softer that day. The sun had just begun to settle into the horizon when Lee Ha-eun answered her phone.

“Halmeoni! Are you okay? Did you… did you talk about me with them?”

On the other end, her grandmother’s voice was calm but distant.

“Mmm… Come home, child. We’ll talk later.”

The call ended, but the storm in Ha-eun’s mind had just begun to rise. Something was off.

⸻

The buzzing city faded as she rode her scooter through quiet roads. Her thoughts drifted backward—memories of her mother’s gentle laugh, the warmth of crackling fires, snow-covered windows at her best friend’s house… and the smell of tteokbokki being shared in thick blankets of winter.

That house — her sanctuary of memories — stood before her again. A simple, humble white home with a silver gate that creaked gently in the breeze. Ha-eun parked her scooter and stepped inside, calling softly:

“Halmeoni… I’m home.”

She followed the scent of warm food into the kitchen, where a feast had already been laid out. Her heart squeezed.

“Halmeoni!” she gasped, rushing over as her grandmother doubled over, coughing heavily.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to overdo it? You should be resting, not making all this!”

The older woman waved her off with a gentle chuckle.

“Not every time will I be here with you, child. I’m old now. One day, I’ll have to go…”

“Don’t say that,” Ha-eun whispered, pulling her into a hug. “You’re not going anywhere.”

⸻

Later, as they ate in quiet companionship, Ha-eun finally spoke.

“Halmeoni… how is she? Min-kyung imo…”

Soon-im sighed, looking out the kitchen window.

“Still beautiful. But… thinner now. And I noticed—her spark is gone.”

Ha-eun lowered her chopsticks.

Then, out of nowhere:

“Ha-eun-ah… marry her son.”

The words dropped like a stone in her chest.

“W-what…?” she stammered, eyes wide.

“Eat, eat,” her grandmother smiled gently, as if she hadn’t just changed the course of her world.

⸻

That night, Ha-eun lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts spiraled.

I don’t even remember him well… Min-jae. Even as kids, he was always distant, quiet… cold. Has he changed? Or is he still the boy who kept to the shadows?

Her thoughts blurred, heavy with memories, until they finally pulled her into sleep.

⸻

The Next Morning – 10:00 AM

Something was wrong.

Her grandmother never slept in.

She crept to her room, whispering, “Halmeoni…?”

No answer.

Her heart thudded faster.

She rushed to her bedside. “Halmeoni!” she cried, shaking her gently.

Still nothing.

Panicking, Ha-eun checked her pulse—faint… or was it even there?

She dialed the ambulance, fingers trembling, then grabbed her grandmother’s phone.

There—Mi-kyung. She pressed the call button.

It rang.

No answer.

Just before reaching the hospital, the phone lit up. Mi-kyung was calling back.

“Hello? Auntie?” she asked gently.

But the voice that answered wasn’t the one she expected.

“I-it’s me… Ha-eun. H-Halmeoni… she’s… she’s not breathing…”

“What?!” Mi-kyung’s voice shook, her heart dropping.

“Where are you now?!”

“I’m on the way to Hanseo Medical Hospital.”

Mi-kyung froze. That was Min-jae’s hospital.

“Wait for me. Don’t worry ok we are coming.”

⸻

At Hanseo Medical Hospital

Dr. Kim Min-jae had just finished scrubbing out of surgery when his phone rang.

“Eomma?”

“Min-jae… listen carefully. Soon-im halmeoni is on her way there. Emergency case. Help them. Please.”

“What happened?!”

“No time for questions—just go!”

Min-jae ordering a team to prepare at ER because he have another case to handle. Moments later, a gurney burst through the doors. Ha-eun stumbled in beside it, her eyes wild, her body trembling.

“She’s—Soo-im! She’s my grandmother!” she gasped.

“Room 3!” Doctor barked. “Move now!”

Another doctor ran ahead, recognizing the name.

“Is she… Soon-im halmeoni?”

“Y-yes!” Ha-eun cried, shocked the doctor even knew.

Mi-kyung and her father-in-law rushed into the hospital, breathless.

“Where is the patient, Soo-im?” she asked a nurse.

“Her granddaughter’s with her now. But… I’m sorry—she didn’t make it.”

Mi-kyung’s heart stopped.

Down the hall, she saw Ha-eun—frozen, knees on the floor, face soaked in tears. And in that moment, she wasn’t 25. She was just a child who had lost everything, again.

She rushed forward, tears welling up.

“It’s okay… It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, wrapping her in a trembling embrace.

Ha-eun sobbed into her chest, unable to speak.

Behind them, Min-jae finally arrived. His eyes darted between his mother, his grandfather… and then landed on her.

Ha-eun.

⸻

[To be continued…]

⸻

The sound of distant thunder rolled across the skies as Min-jae stood frozen, watching her.

She was crying.

Not just crying — breaking.

It took him back to a memory buried deep, one that he never talked about. The same girl, only ten years old then, sobbing helplessly in a hospital corridor while her mom and dad was died. The same heavy silence between them. The same helpless ache in his chest.

And now, more than a decade later, there she was again, collapsed beside her grandmother’s grave, her sobs echoing across the cemetery like a wound torn open.

Ha-eun didn’t notice him at first. Her world was a blur of rain and grief. But then—

A pair of warm arms wrapped around her. A woman’s arms.

Confused and numb, Ha-eun blinked up.

A familiar face appeared through her tears—gentle eyes, silver-streaked hair, a soft smile filled with sorrow.

“Imo…?” she whispered.

Mi-kyung nodded slowly.

And then they cried together — for her mother, for Soo-min, for Soon-im — for all the people they had lost.

Min-jae’s grandfather watched quietly from a distance.

“Your mom hasn’t cried like that in years,” he murmured.

Min-jae turned away. He couldn’t bear to see her like that.

⸻

The Funeral Day

Draped in black, the air heavy with incense and loss, the funeral came and went like a blurred dream. After it ended, people began to leave one by one.

Mi-kyung approached Ha-eun gently.

“Ha-eun-ah, come with us… just for a little while. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Ha-eun bowed politely.

“Thank you… but I want to stay with Halmeoni for a little longer.”

Mi-kyung hesitated. “I understand… But remember this, you’re not alone anymore, okay?”

She gave her a soft pat on the shoulder, then turned to leave.

⸻

Rain had started to fall again, gentle and cold.

Ha-eun knelt in front of the grave, her fingers brushing the engraved letters.

“Why did you leave me too, Halmeoni? Just like Eomma… and Appa… Why did everyone leave me?”

Her voice cracked. Her body shivered from the rain, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

She is shivering and crying very much where Min-jae finally reached there in car. Wearing black pant and coat.

He saw Her crying but he didn’t called her and asked her anything he just let her cry. He goes there silently put the flowers in the grave.

She is crying so much that she couldn’t even focus who is coming.

Min-hae saw that she is in her own mind so he decided to leave silently but he heard her crying even more and more,

That’s when Min-jae returned.

He goes in his car but the rain starts coming. He goes inside the car and starts driving but he couldn’t get over how much she is crying and he starts thinking about her because rain is coming strongly.

He runs her hands in his hair and turned his car again.

He stepped out.

Quietly, he approached and placed his coat around her shoulders.

Startled by the touch, she turned—puffy eyes locking onto his sharp, unreadable face.

“Who…?” she stammered.

“Come with me,” he said curtly.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused, her voice trembling.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Just stop crying and get in the car.”

She flinched. “I’m not going anywhere with a stranger!”

She threw the coat back at him.

He sighed, rubbed his face with frustration, and turned back to his car. But just as quickly as he left, he stopped again. A flash of guilt crossed his features.

Cursing under his breath, again he runs his hand in his hair and he turned the wheel and drove back.

He got out, marched over, picked up the coat, and placed it on her again—firmly this time.

“Look,” he muttered, “I’m not kidnapping you. I just couldn’t leave you out here. Especially when yYou’re my mom’s… closet one .”

She looked at him again, wide-eyed.

“Your mom…?”

Min-jae rolled his eyes. “Enough questions. Get in the car.”

⸻

The car ride was silent — thick with unspoken thoughts. Raindrops raced each other across the windowpane as Ha-eun sat quietly, watching Seoul blur past.

Soon, they pulled into a grand, familiar driveway.

The mansion towered in front of her — white-walled, tall gates, and gardens that whispered of winters past. She knew this place… but from long ago.

Before she could speak, Min-jae opened the car door.

“Where are we?” she asked again. “Are you seriously a kidnapper?!”

He ignored her. “Get someone to call my mom,” he said to a nearby servant.

Moments later, Mi-kyung came rushing out — ignoring the umbrella handed to her. The rain soaked her instantly, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were locked on Ha-eun.

“My daughter’s here! Prepare a room, now!” she shouted.

Ha-eun stared at her, then turned to Min-jae. Her eyes widened.

“You’re… Min-jae?!”

He finally looked at her — calm, quiet, unreadable.

“Surprised?”

⸻