Echoes of the Rain

Money can't buy love 💕

The atmosphere in the room grew even tenser. Yohan's mother continued to watch me with those piercing eyes, making me feel increasingly uncomfortable.

"Yohan told me you don't have parents and live with your grandmother since childhood. Is that correct?" she asked, her voice steady and authoritative.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "Yes, ma'am. That's correct."

She nodded, as if confirming some internal assessment. "Yohan mentioned that I shouldn't ask you any questions about your family."

Yohan's hand tightened around mine, a subtle sign of support. "Mother, please," he said, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

"Miss Yuri," his mother continued, seemingly unfazed, "I know you work at a well-reputed company within my organization. I assume Yohan has informed you of this."

I looked at Yohan, who was visibly tense. "Yes, I am aware," I replied, trying to maintain a polite tone.

His mother dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "Yohan, let's not talk about business now," she said, turning back to me. "You see, I've pressured Yohan to marry my friend's daughter. She is wealthy, beautiful, and her background is perfectly acceptable. You understand what I'm talking about?"

I glanced at Yohan, who looked pained, and then back at his mother. "I understand," I said quietly. "But Yohan doesn't love her."

"Love?" she scoffed. "Love is merely a word used to mask one's own desires. It's not a serious consideration in such matters."

She motioned to her assistant, who placed a briefcase on the table between us. "Open it, Yuri. It's for you."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. Slowly, I opened the briefcase, revealing stacks of money inside. The sight made my heart race, a mixture of shock and confusion flooding me.

"What's this?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

"Consider it a gesture," Yohan's mother said coolly. "If you truly care for Yohan, you'll accept this and step aside. It's for your own good."

Yohan's grip on my hand tightened further, his eyes pleading with me. The weight of the money seemed to mirror the weight of the decision I now faced.

Yohan's mother's words cut through the room like a knife, her scornful tone filling the air with a chilling intensity. The sight of the money in the briefcase felt like an added insult to injury, as if it was being used to dismiss the genuine emotions between Yohan and me.

Yohan's voice, filled with frustration, broke through. "Mom, what are you talking about? Please stop this nonsense."

I felt a surge of determination despite my anxiety. "Ma'am, I love him, and money can't buy love."

His mother, unfazed, replied coldly, "I can buy anything and everything."

Yohan's patience seemed to snap. "Yuri, let's go. I think we don't need her permission for our marriage."

His mother's voice grew louder, tinged with anger. "Yohan, if you step out of this house, don't ever think about coming back."

I looked at Yohan, my heart aching. "Yohan, I think you should stay here. Let's talk about this another day."

His mother's eyes narrowed. "You, girl, are now commanding my son? Who do you think you are? I know everything about you and your past."

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "It's not that I can't talk back, but I respect you, so please..."

Her expression hardened. "Did you tell Yohan that your father is married to another woman and lives a happy life with his new family, abandoning you?"

Yohan's face grew pained. "It doesn't matter, Mom. Please don't cross the line. I beg you."

She responded with venom, "You're begging me? It's all because of this girl. I'll never give permission for your marriage to this... this girl!"

Yohan, visibly distressed, reached for my hand. "Yuri, let's go."

His mother's voice echoed with anger and despair. "Yohan, stop! You ungrateful child! I've done so much for you, and now you leave me for this girl? You'll never be happy with her!"

Yohan's grip on my hand tightened as we turned to leave. Despite the tears streaming down my face and the pain in my heart, I felt a sense of resolve. Yohan and I walked out of the house together, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead, side by side.

We started to live in my small apartment. It was cramped, with barely enough space for the both of us, but it was ours, and we were together. Yohan left his house and the company, and soon after, I was fired from my job without any notice. The power his mother wielded was clear, and she made sure we suffered for our decision. Yet, even in the face of such hardship, Yohan remained optimistic. He decided to pursue his true passion - music. He threw himself into it with everything he had, and slowly, things began to look up for him. His talent shone brightly, and opportunities started to come his way.

Meanwhile, I was searching for a new job, knowing his mother was making sure every door was shut in my face. It was difficult, exhausting, and sometimes I felt like giving up, but I never did. We held onto each other tightly through it all, refusing to let the weight of our circumstances pull us apart.

A month later, we submitted our marriage registration form and officially became husband and wife. I couldn't believe it; it felt like a dream. Despite the challenges, everything seemed to fall into place.

Every morning, as I left for job interviews, I felt a sense of peace and happiness knowing Yohan was there, waiting for me to come home. The thought of him being in our tiny kitchen, maybe playing a tune on his old piano or preparing something simple for dinner, made my heart swell with a feeling I had never known before. I would smile to myself as I walked down the street, lost in the thought that someone loved me so deeply, so entirely.

When I walked through the door each evening and saw Yohan's warm smile, it was like coming home in the truest sense of the word. In our small apartment, amidst all the challenges, I found my happiness - a life with Yohan, where love was enough to make even the smallest of spaces feel like a palace.

I decided to surprise Yohan with a piano - a modest one, but it was perfect for our small apartment. I wanted him to have something that brought him joy, something that reminded him of the passion that brought us together in the first place. The piano became the heartbeat of our home. When he wasn't writing music, he would sit and play for hours, his fingers dancing across the keys, filling our little space with melodies that made everything feel lighter, brighter.

It became our language. Whenever we had a fight, and I was too angry to talk, he would start to play my favorite song. The anger in my heart would slowly melt away with every note, replaced by the warmth of his music and the love behind it. Somehow, the piano always had a way of bringing us back to each other, reminding us of why we fell in love in the first place.

But as always, happiness never seemed to stay with us for long.