The White Swan

Chapter 2 : Why Me?

Reaching the venue first, Jieun felt a surge of excitement as she stepped into the arena, eager to familiarize herself with the vast expanse of the ice rink. The cool air greeted her, heightening her spirit as she set her belongings aside in a corner. She adjusted the speaker and played Tchaikovsky’s enchanting Sleeping Beauty Suite, allowing the melody to fill the space around her. As the music swelled, she began to explore the rink, gliding gracefully across the surface while experimenting with new poses and movements, letting her imagination guide her.

Suddenly, her eyes widened in disbelief as she noticed a familiar figure seated in the farthest top spectator seat. His piercing blue eyes, like twin sapphires, seemed to pierce through the crowd as he donned his practice outfit, his hair meticulously styled and a tinge of chapstick. A mask, hiding his face, adding an air of mystery that intrigued her even further.For a moment, Jieun felt frozen in place, her heart racing as she watched him. She was so captivated that she didn’t even notice him stepping onto the rink until he approached her, taking her hands in his with a grip that was both firm and infuriatingly familiar.

“You’re really trying to impress me with that or something?,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t think you’d show up so... prepared.”

Jieun raised an eyebrow, feeling a rush of anger mixed with something else—something more intoxicating. “I’d rather be prepared than rely on luck, unlike some people,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “Just don’t mess this up for us again.” He smirked, a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. “Oh, I won’t be the one messing up, Jieun. You know I can handle the pressure. Just try to keep up.”

In an instant, they transitioned into their routine, tension crackling between them.

Despite their bickering, there was an undeniable spark in their movements, as if their bodies were drawn together by an invisible thread. They were renowned as one of the most flawless ice dancing teams in Asia, a title they had earned through countless hours of practice and dedication. Even their training sessions had an undeniable beauty, resembling breathtaking performances, driven by their intense passion for ice skating and their conflicting emotions for each other.

The producers and directors arrived for the final practice, seamlessly following the meticulously prepared steps. After completing the enhanced routine, both Jihan and Jieun retreated to their respective green rooms, seeking a moment of refreshment.

However, in a twist of fate, Jihan inadvertently entered Jieun's room. As soon as he stepped inside, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, locking them in. Jihan's voice echoed in surprise as he realized their mutual friends—who also served as their managers—had secured the door from the outside, with no intention of unlocking it until the two reconciled. This reconciliation seemed an impossible feat at that moment, yet they were compelled to find a way through their differences.

Understanding their friends' stubbornness, both Jihan and Jieun settled onto opposite sofas, visibly drained from the day’s antics. While Jieun scrolled through her emails on her phone, her expression cold and distant, Jihan rested his forehead in his hand, tension radiating from him like a palpable storm.

“Grandfather wants us to meet him one last time,” he began, his voice strained and wavering with emotion. “His health is deteriorating, and he’s been saying it’s time to say goodbye. That’s what I desperately wanted to discuss yesterday, but we never got the chance.”

“I know. I heard,” Jieun replied coolly, her tone sharp as ice, the hurt still fresh between them.

“Thats all you have to say? Can we not put aside our grievances, even just for a short while, just to see him happy for once?” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “It feels like this might be our last opportunity to make him smile, just for a moment.”

“Set a schedule for tomorrow and let me know what you come up with,” she replied, her words slicing through the air. “But just so you know, I cannot simply forget the decision you made with full consciousness, a decision that shattered my world into pieces. And I definitely can’t erase the time it took to piece myself back together, all for the sake of our careers. And one last thing I will never be able to forget, even if I wanted to, is you and the way you broke my heart.”

With that, she huffed angrily, marching toward the door, a whirlwind of frustration and pain. “JUNG YIRON, IF YOU DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT, THE FIRST THING I WILL DO WHEN I COME OUT IS SUBMIT YOUR RESIGNATION LETTER WITH MY OWN HANDS, WITHOUT CARING WHETHER YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND OR MY MANAGER!”

As her voice echoed in the small room, the door swung open, revealing two apologetic faces staring at the couple, concern etched into their expressions. Jieun stormed past them YIRON tailing behind, seeking refuge in the one place she once called home. But that home? She had lost it three years ago.

Their managers hurried off to their respective cars, and Min Junho, Jihan's manager, partner in crime and childhood best friend, shot him an apologetic look before turning to prepare his things for departure.

As Jihan sank into the driver’s seat of his car, still reeling from the sting of Jieun’s words—words that echoed with an unsettling truth—Junho leaned forward from the front seat, concern etched on his face. “You know, you could just tell her what actually happened. She would believe you,” he began, his tone a mix of frustration and empathy. “Hiding the truth and adding more confusion to an already tangled situation feels a bit sadistic, don’t you think? And honestly, no one is in danger now; everything is settled. So why not just reconcile?”

“Is it really that easy, Junho?” Jihan replied, his voice heavy with despair. “Because if it were, I would have never made that decision in the first place. It has shown me what she truly believed about me, and it feels painfully fake. I can’t even look her in the eyes and convince myself that she genuinely loved me all those years ago. I don’t know what to do now; things have escalated far too much to find a way back. All I can do when I get home is look at myself in the mirror and ask, ‘Why me?’

As Jihan spoke, his voice trembled with a mixture of regret and self-doubt, the weight of his choices pressing heavily on his heart. The mirror, a silent witness to his turmoil, reflected not just his face but the shattered pieces of a once-bright future that now seemed irrevocably lost.

What do you think actually happened exactly 3 years back? Is it really too late now...?