ᴄʜʀʏꜱᴀʟɪꜱ|ꜱᴇᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ: ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ

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" 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞."

The next morning, I awoke with a deep, throbbing soreness permeating my body—a cruel reminder of the previous night spent standing under a relentless downpour. The bitter cold of the rain seemed almost kind in comparison to the harsh reality of Seonghwa's father's disdain for me. His contempt, rooted in the fact that I lacked the wealth and status of their family and didn't adorn myself in luxurious attire, was suffocating.

Yet Seonghwa, with his gentle soul, looked beyond the superficial trappings of social class. He cherished me for my essence—the quirks and oddities that composed my being. He laughed at my foolish jokes, found beauty in the verses of my poems, and relished our long conversations about both the profound and the mundane. I longed to shelter him permanently in my home, to offer him the kind of enduring warmth and safety he so desperately craved and was tragically deprived of.

Taking a deep, laboring breath that turned into a fit of coughing, my eyes fell upon a folded piece of paper lying conspicuously on my desk. My hands trembled slightly as I unfolded it, revealing Seonghwa's familiar, hurried scrawl.

Dear Hongi,

I'm sorry, Hongjoong. I truly am. We both tried our hardest. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but my father has decided to send me away. He came this morning to take me from here. Please remember, I fought against it, and so did your dad. But, it seems there's nothing more we can do.

I need you to understand that the harsh words I uttered yesterday were spoken in a moment of sheer frustration and despair—they were not a reflection of my true feelings. You are an incredibly remarkable and beautiful person, Hongi. The light you bring into my life with your humor, your poetry, and the depth of your understanding is irreplaceable.

With all my heart,
Seonghwa.

As I gazed at the note, my eyes traced over each word again, and a profound sadness enveloped me. His father had indeed taken him away, asserting his will just to keep Seonghwa from being close to me, a scenario that seemed ripped from the pages of a novel—rich versus poor. I shook my head at the cruel irony, gently placing the letter down on the desk.

I felt lost, unsure of what to do next. Seonghwa's father was unyielding, and without Seonghwa, the emptiness was overwhelming. Glancing down at my phone, my fingers hesitated above the screen. After a moment's pause, driven by a mix of desperation and hope, I decided to try calling him. Maybe, just maybe, I could hear his voice once more.

I dialed his number, the familiar digits echoing in my mind as I pressed each one. The phone rang, and for a few heartbeats, everything stood still.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was cautious, subdued.