A lovely change with love|2min

chapter 17

Minho stood there, his breath shallow as Areum threw her arms around him, her voice trembling with affection. "I missed you," she whispered, her cheek resting against his chest. But instead of the familiar warmth that used to flood his body whenever she touched him, he felt nothing. His heart, once so easily stirred by her presence, remained unsettling still. His arms hung limply by his sides, and after a moment, he pushed her back.

He looked into her eyes, the woman he had loved so fiercely, the one he had sacrificed everything for, but there was an emptiness inside him now. The warmth and passion that once defined his feelings for her had dissipated, leaving only a hollow ache. His voice, when it finally came, was low and strained. “You weren’t dead…”

Areum stepped back, her expression shifting to something between guilt and unease. “No, I wasn’t. I planned my death.”

Minho's body went rigid, disbelief cutting through him like a knife. “Why?” His voice trembled, cracking at the edges as he stared at her, searching for something, anything to make sense of the betrayal that was unfolding before him. His mind raced, struggling to keep up with what he was hearing. “Why did you do that, Areum?”

She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away from his for a brief second. “I had a reason, Minho. It wasn’t… it wasn’t what you think.” Her voice wavered, as though she was trying to conjure guilt, trying to appear remorseful. But to Minho, it felt rehearsed like she was playing a part she didn’t quite believe in.

“What reason?” Minho’s voice rose, his desperation seeping through. He stepped closer to her, his hands shaking with a mix of anger and sorrow. His thoughts were unraveling, spinning out of control. Areum had been his everything his reason to fight, to sacrifice, to lose himself. And now she stood before him, alive, after all the blood he had spilled in her name.

Areum’s eyes darted to the floor, her lips parting in an attempt to explain, but her words were stumbling, unsure. “I was hurt, Minho. When I found out about the gang, about what you were doing… I couldn’t handle it. I was afraid. That night… the night I was taken, it was all too much. I needed to get away.”

Minho’s heart pounded in his chest, a bitter taste rising in his throat. He clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to keep control as her words cut deeper. “You needed to get away?” he repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “So you faked your death? You made me believe you were gone, you let me think I lost you, that I failed you.”

Areum took a hesitant step forward, her hands reaching out as if to comfort him, but Minho recoiled from her touch. “I was terrified, Minho,” she insisted, her voice growing more frantic. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought if I disappeared, I could escape all of it. The violence, the danger… you.”

Minho’s breath hitched, his chest tightening painfully. Her words slammed into him like a sledgehammer. You. She had been running from him.

The truth was suffocating, and his hands came up to cover his face as a choked sob escaped him. All this time, he had carried the weight of her death on his shoulders. He had torn himself apart, piece by piece, believing that everything he had done the blood on his hands, the lives he destroyed was for her. And now, standing before him, she wasn’t the victim he had imagined. She had left him to drown in his guilt.

“I ruined myself for you,” Minho whispered, lowering his hands to reveal the raw anguish etched on his face. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with unshed tears that threatened to spill over. “I went back to that life because I thought it was the only way to save you. I destroyed everything… for you.”

Areum’s face twisted with guilt or at least, the semblance of it. She looked at him, her eyes wide, her hands wringing together as if she could erase the damage her lies had caused. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far, Minho. I thought I was protecting myself. I didn’t want to be part of that life anymore.”