Hugs

Prologue

My life had never been my own. It had been a series of lies, betrayals, and heartaches, each chapter darker than the last. I had learned early on that people I trusted could hurt me in ways I couldn't fathom, and that the world, more often than not, would leave me out in the cold. My father's abandonment, my mother's emotional neglect, and the countless friends who turned out to be more enemies than allies — each of them had painted my world in shades of gray.

For years, I had lived in the shadow of this pain, my heart encased in layers of armor. I trusted no one. I believed no one. Each morning, I woke up to a world that seemed like a cruel game, one I had no chance of winning. My soul, once bright and full of dreams, had withered. Yet, deep within me, like a dim flicker of light in an endless night, there was a sliver of hope. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me through the day.

As cliché as it is, one crisp Autumn afternoon as I was going on my usual "mental" walk through my neighborhood with my music in my ears, drowning out the loud noises from the world. I scrolled for miles, unaware of how much time stopped, but awoke to my senses when the street lights flickered on. Force weighed me down as my feet had a mind of its own and continued to trudged on, and no matter how hard I tried to stop and turn around to my lonely apartment, they wouldn't budge. My muscles locked up and I had no control of my legs, no matter how hard I tried to resist, my body just kept moving in a straight line.

My eyes made out a figure at the end of the path, partially obscured in the dim glow of the streetlight, his features softened by the shadows. The faint light flickered as it caught the edges of his silhouette, casting long, angular shadows that stretched across the wet sidewalk. He was tall, his posture slightly hunched, as if lost in thought, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat. His face, half-illuminated, showed the outline of a strong jawline and a pair of eyes that gleamed with an unreadable expression, reflecting the muted amber light. The faint chill in the air seemed to wrap around him, as if the night itself was pulling him deeper into its quiet embrace.

A sense of alarm surged through me as the gap between us closed. My heart raced, my muscles tensed, but my feet — betraying me — continued to move forward, as though caught in some invisible pull. 

Is this where I get kidnapped and murdered? 

The thought flashed in my mind like a cold jolt, and for a moment, I almost expected him to reach out, grab me, and drag me into the night.

But then, as the tension had built, he stopped. He was now only a few inches in front of me, his presence overwhelming in the dim streetlight. My breath caught, and I took a hesitant step back, as though the air itself had thickened between us.

Under the harsh glow of the streetlight, I looked up, studying his face. His features were sharp, but there was something almost hauntingly familiar about him. His gaze, intense and unreadable, locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow, like the heavy pulse of time itself had stilled. The danger I had anticipated — my mind screaming warnings of an impending threat — never came. Instead, he simply stood there, silent, like a riddle wrapped in shadows, offering nothing but the mystery of his stillness.

For a heartbeat, I couldn't move, my breath caught in my chest. He was close now, his presence both imposing and strangely soothing, as though the night itself had bent around him.

And then, unexpectedly, he spoke. His voice was soft, but it cut through the stillness like a whisper from the past. "Da-Eun?"

The word struck me like a tidal wave, and in that instant, everything in my world shifted. I blinked - unbelieving - only one person knew my real name, and there was no way it can be him. As memories flashed before my eyes, never did I knew this was the moment when my life flooded with a kaleidoscope of emotions, as if a rainbow of colors had burst into my consciousness, washing away the years of gray.