Scene 5

Comeback

Episode 9: The Final Push

It had been months since Hongshu had decided to step away from Gwangshuk, months since she’d watched him and Shinha grow even closer. Though the pain had dulled somewhat, it was still there, lurking beneath the surface. There were moments when it felt as if the hole in her chest would never be filled, but she’d learned how to function despite the ache. She buried herself in her work, focused on her future, and tried her best to keep the lingering feelings at bay.

But life, it seemed, had other plans.

It was the night of the school festival, and everything felt strangely bittersweet. Shinha had invited her to help with a booth, and though Hongshu had initially hesitated, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She still loved Shinha, despite everything. Her feelings had never been about rivalry or jealousy; they were simply about a love she could never have.

As they worked together on the booth, Gwangshuk appeared. His smile was warm, but there was something in his eyes—something different—that made Hongshu pause. He greeted Shinha, and the two of them fell into their familiar rhythm, joking and laughing, but then his gaze shifted. It found her, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately,” Gwangshuk said quietly to Hongshu, his tone tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Hongshu forced a smile, though her heart twisted in her chest. “I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”

He nodded, but there was an unreadable expression on his face. “I’ve been thinking a lot about things,” he said, his voice low, as if the words were too heavy to say aloud.

Hongshu’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”

Gwangshuk hesitated for a moment before continuing. “About everything that happened between us. I never wanted to hurt you, and I didn’t realize how much I hurt you until… well, until now.”

Hongshu’s breath hitched in her throat. She had heard those words before, but this time, there was something more in them. Guilt. Regret. But none of it mattered now. She had moved on—or so she told herself.

“I’m okay, Gwangshuk,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside her. “It’s in the past. You and Shinha, you’re happy together. That’s all that matters.”

But Gwangshuk wasn’t listening. He reached out, gently touching her arm, his hand warm against her skin. “It’s not that simple. I… I’ve been so blind. I didn’t realize how much you meant to me, how much I… I care about you, Hongshu.”

Hongshu’s heart stopped. The words felt like they were coming from someone else, like a dream or a nightmare, but they were real. His eyes were searching hers now, filled with an intensity that shook her to the core.

“Gwangshuk, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s too late for this. You’ve already chosen. You’ve already made your decision. I’ve already let go.”

But his gaze only grew more desperate. “I never wanted to choose, Hongshu. I just didn’t know… I didn’t know how much you meant to me until now.”

And then it happened. Shinha appeared at their side, her face lighting up when she saw Gwangshuk. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her smile wide and unassuming. “Isn’t this great? The festival’s almost over, and we did great work today!”

Gwangshuk smiled back at her, but it was forced, as if the words he’d just said were choking him. He looked at Hongshu again, his expression conflicted.

It was in that moment that Hongshu realized the truth. He hadn’t been blind; he had simply never seen her. He had never seen her as more than the friend who helped, the person who quietly loved him from the shadows. And that would never change.

Comeback

Episode 10: The Tragic Realization

The festival had come and gone, and everything returned to its usual rhythm. The quiet, painful rhythm that had always existed between Hongshu and Gwangshuk, but this time, it felt heavier, more suffocating.

In the days following the festival, Gwangshuk continued to act as if nothing had changed. He and Shinha were as inseparable as ever, and though his attempts to be kind to Hongshu increased, the distance between them felt insurmountable. Guilt seemed to weigh on him, but it only made things worse.

Hongshu, on the other hand, retreated further into herself. She avoided Gwangshuk, avoided Shinha, avoided everyone. She thought she had moved on, but her heart betrayed her at every turn. The truth was undeniable: she had loved Gwangshuk for far too long, and she couldn’t simply stop loving him because of his new affection for Shinha. The pain of rejection was sharper than she had ever anticipated.

One afternoon, after a particularly painful encounter in the hallway, Hongshu found herself on the rooftop of the school. She stood there, staring out at the sunset, the colors fading as the sky turned dark. The weight in her chest felt unbearable, and the thought of moving on, of truly letting go, felt like an impossible task.

She heard footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn. She knew who it was. The last person she wanted to see, and yet the only person who could make the pain bearable.

“Hongshu,” Gwangshuk’s voice was quiet, strained. “Can we talk?”

She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t move either. There was nothing left to say. There had never been anything left to say. He had chosen Shinha, and she had chosen to suffer in silence, hoping for a love that would never come.

“Please,” he pleaded, coming closer. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay between us. I need you to understand something.”

Hongshu turned to face him then, her eyes cold. “Understand what, Gwangshuk? That you’ve chosen her? That I’m not even a second choice? That I’ll always be on the outside looking in?”

He flinched at the words, his face twisting with regret. “I didn’t mean it like that. I… I just want you to know that I’ve never meant to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. And I don’t know how to fix that anymore. I don’t know how to make this go away.”

Gwangshuk reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Please, Hongshu, I need you to forgive me.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “You don’t need my forgiveness. You need her. You’ve always needed her.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her steps slow but purposeful.

Comeback

Episode 11: The Final Goodbye

The days blurred together after that. Gwangshuk continued to reach out, but Hongshu kept her distance. The truth had finally set in: he would never see her the way she had always seen him. He would never love her. He would always love Shinha, and she would always be the one left behind.

One night, Hongshu received a text from Shinha. It was short, just a simple question: “Can we talk?”

Hongshu hesitated, but then, against her better judgment, she agreed to meet. She didn’t know what Shinha wanted to say, but she knew that there was no running from the inevitable.

When they met at a quiet café, Shinha sat down across from her, her face unreadable. “Hongshu… I know this has been hard for you. I can see that you’ve been hurt, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better. But I don’t think I can change anything.”

Hongshu looked down, her fingers curling around the coffee cup. “It’s too late for that, Shinha. I’ve already made my peace with everything. I just want to move on.”

Shinha reached across the table, her voice trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you, Hongshu. I never wanted to come between you and Gwangshuk.”

Tears finally spilled from Hongshu’s eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. “You didn’t. He did.”

The finality of those words crushed her. She had spent so long living in hope, in denial, but now it was over. There was nothing left to hold onto, no more reason to keep hoping.

As she walked out of the café, alone, she felt the final piece of her heart break. She had lost him. She had always lost him. And now, there was nothing left but the empty ache of a love that would never be returned.

It was the hardest goodbye she would ever have to make. And the most tragic.

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