"The Kim Dynasty: Secrets of the Heart"

33

Chapter 33: Rain of Emotions

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in hues of orange and pink, a breathtaking backdrop for the special moment the girl had envisioned. She stood on the terrace, surrounded by the delicate gifts she had gathered, her heart racing with anticipation. In her hand, she clutched a single red rose, its petals velvety and vibrant, symbolizing her love for the boy who had captured her heart.

As she prepared for the moment, her mind drifted back to their time together—those laughter-filled afternoons, quiet moments shared over coffee, and the countless conversations that had deepened their bond. She wanted this moment to be special, to express everything she had kept hidden for so long. With that thought, she asked Jimin to bring the boy to the terrace in his wheelchair, wanting to create a memory that would shine bright amid the shadows of their circumstances.

“Can you please bring him here?” she asked Jimin, her eyes sparkling with hope. “I want him to see this. It’ll be perfect.”

“Of course,” Jimin replied, understanding the significance of this moment. He nodded and made his way back to the hospital room, feeling a mix of excitement and unease.

As she stood alone, the air shifted, the clouds gathering above, and the first drops of rain began to fall. They came gently at first, as if the sky was testing the waters, but soon it turned into a steady downpour. Rain had a way of mirroring emotions, a perfect representation of what was unfolding.

When we’re sad, the rain cries with us. When we fall in love for the first time, it washes away doubts and insecurities. Today, the girl felt a mix of emotions swirling within her. With the rain dancing around her, she thought, This is a sign. This is how it should be when I propose.

Meanwhile, in the hospital room, Jimin stood with two other doctors, watching as the boy lay there, his chest barely rising and falling. The machines beeped in a steady rhythm, but the reality of the situation was unbearable. There were unshed tears in the boy’s eyes as he struggled to take his last breaths.

“I love her,” he gasped, his voice a mere whisper. “Please tell her... that I loved her.” With those words, he took a final breath, his eyes fluttering shut, leaving behind a stillness that felt palpable in the room.

Jimin felt his heart drop, his hands trembling at the sight. He quickly looked at his colleagues, the reality sinking in. “The girl is on the terrace,” he managed to say, his voice strained. “Please, can you inform her?”

While the doctors nodded, they all knew the heavy burden of such news, but there was no time to waste. Every second counted.

As the girl stood on the terrace, the rain continued to pour, soaking her hair and dress, but she was oblivious to the coldness. She remembered a moment when the boy had once said, “I think when we truly love someone, it starts raining.” In that instant, she felt grateful for the rain, believing it was God’s blessing for their special moment.

The terrace was adorned with gifts—handmade trinkets, colorful balloons, and handwritten notes. All the love she wanted to express was laid out before her, and she clutched the rose tighter, ready to share her heart.

Just then, a doctor approached her, wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He hadn’t been privy to their love story, unaware of the significance of the moment she was preparing for. He assumed they were married or in a serious relationship, and approached her with a somber expression.

“Excuse me, miss,” he began, concern etched on his face. “I need to talk to you about your... husband.”

At that moment, Jimin stood at the entrance of the terrace, his heart pounding as he witnessed what was about to unfold. He wanted to intervene, to stop the doctor, but he felt paralyzed, caught between the urgency of the situation and the respect for the girl’s emotions.

The doctor continued, his voice steady but compassionate. “I’m afraid... the young man you’ve been waiting for has passed away.”

The words struck her like a thunderbolt. The rose slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground, petals splattering against the wet pavement. She sank to her knees, disbelief washing over her. “No... no, it can’t be,” she stammered, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the rain. “He was right here! I was going to propose!”

Jimin’s heart shattered as he watched her, helpless. He could feel his own eyes welling up with tears, unable to contain the weight of the moment. This was the darker side of the medical profession—the part that tore at the fabric of human connections. He understood the inner torment that came with informing loved ones that their family members were no longer with them.

As the girl cried, it felt as if the sky was weeping alongside her, each droplet echoing the sorrow that enveloped them. God was crying, she was crying, and in that moment, it felt as though the boy’s spirit was weeping for what could have been. His soul lingered, witnessing the pain of a love that had never been fully realized, a love that had been stifled by fear and circumstance.

“Why didn’t I say anything?” she cried out, her voice breaking as she slammed her fists against the ground. “Why did I wait?”

Jimin stood frozen at the entrance, the scene unfolding before him a heart-wrenching tableau of grief and regret. He thought of the boy, of their laughter, their shared moments, and the unspoken words that now would never be exchanged. It felt like witnessing a birth and a death simultaneously—a love story that blossomed too late.

“Regret is the most painful thing,” Jimin whispered to himself, feeling the weight of those words resonate within him. He had seen the light in their love, the flicker of hope that had ignited during their time together, only to be extinguished in the blink of an eye. It was as if a newborn baby had entered the world only to slip away moments later, leaving behind an emptiness that couldn’t be filled.

The doctor, recognizing the gravity of the situation, stepped back, giving the girl space to grieve. He was an observer now, just like Jimin, both of them powerless against the tide of emotions that swept through the air.

As the girl knelt there, her sobs echoed through the rain-soaked terrace, the sound mingling with the patter of raindrops on the ground. The world felt still, suspended in a moment that encapsulated both love and loss, joy and sorrow.

Jimin’s heart ached, knowing he would carry this moment with him—the painful lesson that love could be fleeting, that it must be cherished and expressed before it was too late.

That night, as the rain continued to fall, it felt as if time had stopped, encapsulating the bittersweet essence of love—the love that had been born but had not yet thrived, now extinguished before it could even truly begin. The weight of their unfulfilled dreams lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the love that could have been, echoing long after the rain had stopped.

Who says we cannot kill a dead person? That night, the boy died two times—
Once to the disease, once as his soul expired,
Watching the love he cherished for eight years,
Crying on the terrace, waiting for his body to arrive,
To embrace her proposal; though his body could not come,
His soul lingered, a whisper in the rain, forever alive.