34 - Between The Gaps of Words

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What if the sadness will grow in every nook and cranny of my being? What if it will grow into something ugly and I will never find meaning to it, and by the end I will remain utterly insignificant? 

Y/N walked away from the shattered remains of her once-promising love, tears streaming down her face, and the weight of betrayal heavy on her heart. The world around her seemed to lose its color, as if the vibrancy of life had been drained away. She wondered if the sadness would indeed grow and consume her, leaving her forever changed and broken.

She thought about the cruel twist of fate that had brought her together with a man who bore the sins of his father, a man she had fallen deeply in love with. What was she supposed to do now, with her trust shattered and her heart torn between love and the bitter truth? It was a painful, relentless battle that raged within her, leaving her emotionally drained and lost.

The night was silent, but it was also deafening in its emptiness. Upon stepping inside her building, she dragged herself up the stairs to her small apartment, the walls bearing witness to her silent pain. The door lock Jake had installed seemed to mock her and in the dimly lit room, Y/N sank to the floor, her back against the door, and buried her face in her hands. Her sobs filled the place and all she could do was clutch her chest as if to physically restrain the ache that consumed her.

She couldn't escape the pain that had seeped into every corner of her existence, and the questions that tormented her. Why did this happen to my family? Why did I fall in love with the son of the murderer who had taken my parents away?

Every memory of her time with Jake, every whispered promise, and every stolen moment of happiness felt like shards of glass cutting into her heart. She had never thought that love could be so cruel, that it could blind her to the truth in such a devastating way.

The night wore on, the darkness outside her window deepening, but Y/N remained on the floor, lost in her thoughts and emotions. She couldn't yet process the overwhelming pain and betrayal that had become a part of her reality. 

Her phone kept ringing and ringing and her brother's name was glued to the screen. She couldn't bring herself to answer. How could she face him now, knowing that he had known the truth and hadn't told her? So she let it ring, watching the caller ID display the relentless calls from her brother.

"Why..." Hiding her face in her hands, she whispered the question, her voice barely audible even to her own ears. "Why did this happen to us?" The room remained silent, offering no answers, and the pain in her chest grew heavier with each passing moment. Hours passed and she found herself in her room, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She was curled up on her bed with her thoughts spiraling into a bottomless pit of despair. 

Y/N had lived through so many different heartaches before, no matter small or large, but this one felt different. It wasn't the same pain she felt when her parents passed away in the fire. It wasn't the same as the one she felt when Seojin's parents adopted her but he refused to accept her as his real sister. This pain cut deeper because it involved the person she had let into her heart, the one she had allowed herself to love so much it felt like a part of her soul.

Her room felt foreign. She used to spend hours and hours there, writing, watching movies, talking to Areum one the phone while she raised her feet up so high it almost looked like they touched the ceiling. She used to like being cocooned in her little world, but now that world had crumbled, leaving her feeling like a stranger in her own space.

But at some point, she stood up and dragged herself to the kitchen. It was two in the morning and outside looked like a place where her despair couldn't reach. She needed to do something. She needed to take her mind off her pain. She needed to writer.

So, with a cup of coffee that she just brewed, Y/N settled at the kitchen table with her laptop. The empty page on the screen srared back at her and for a moment, she closed her eyes and just... felt. She had written a lot about Jake, but the world never really lade sense of it, did it? She had said I love you in ways it never knew.

The world never figured out that maybe she was just using poetry to tell what she felt, given that she was a spineless coward to pray and hide behind metaphors and similes, never truly confronting the deep emotions that had consumed her. Maybe when she wrote about sunsets and walking, she was praying that the universe would listen and make her path easier to walk together with Jake. 

Maybe the words she had chosen weren't enough to be truly honest and answered by the heavens. Maybe she needed to strip away the layers of artifice and let her words bleed with the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

But her love for Jake was squeezed in between the gaps of the stories she wrote, so why wasn't it enough for the world to understand? Why did life have to be so cruel and twist her love into something unrecognizable, marred by betrayal and heartache? Her fingers poised above the keywords but she couldn't find it in her to form words, not yet. She knew the wounds were still too fresh, the pain too raw. Instead, she closed the laptop and allowed herself to cry. Yes, that's all she needed to do. To release the pent-up emotions, to let her tears flow freely, to mourn the love that had been shattered. 

She didn't need to find the right words at this moment; she needed to grieve.

The man she loved was the offspring of the man who had brought so much sorrow into her life. It was such a cruel twist of fate that it felt like a story written by someone who had so much love for twisting the knife of destiny. Y/N often made her characters suffer, and perhaps that's why life was now turning the tables on her. It had become all too real, and she couldn't escape it.

As she sat there in the quiet kitchen, lost in the darkness of her thoughts and the silent tears that streamed down her face, the coffee had grown cold. She could always make another one, but right now, she had no appetite for anything other than her own heartache.

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