Fractured Reflections; Oh Sangwoo X Reader

The return.

It had been a normal day, or so I thought. Work was nothing out of the ordinary—books to stock, customers to greet, and hours to pass as the clock ticked slowly forward. But there's a certain dread that comes with living in constant fear, even if you try to push it away. It lingers, like the sound of a distant storm you can't quite see yet.

I didn't expect today to be any different. That was my first mistake.

"Samurai, I'm off to work! Love you!" I called out as I left the house. Joe was supposed to pick me up before the bookstore opened, like always. The world felt normal then, as it often does right before everything unravels.

I stood by the door, waiting, until Joe finally rolled down his window. As I got in, I noticed something off—a car parked across the street, watching us. I tried to play it cool, but my heart pounded against my chest. No, it couldn't be him. I had gotten away. It had taken everything in me, but I had finally broken free.

Yet I knew those eyes.

The familiar weight of dread settled in as Joe glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Something wrong?" he asked, his voice steady but cautious.

"Just... look in your mirror, Joe. Right now."

The words barely escaped my lips, heavy with the weight of old memories. I knew the person in that car. I had spent years trying to forget, but here he was, back like a shadow I couldn't escape.

Sangwoo had always been there, lurking in the corners of my life like a predator stalking its prey. Our relationship had started innocently enough—a boy with a charming smile who captured my attention. But as time passed, that charm twisted into something dark and suffocating. He'd manipulated my trust, turning love into a weapon against me.

For five long years, I endured threats and mind games, each moment leaving scars that would never fade. The turning point came when I realized he would never stop. In a moment of desperation, I poisoned him, a move that felt like my only escape route. As he lay unconscious, I fled, a suffocating sense of relief washing over me. But Sangwoo's reach was long, and the darkness followed me.

When the police caught him, I thought I was finally free. I was wrong. I spent those years trapped in a cycle of fear, compounded by guilt and anger. In a moment of sheer hopelessness, I shot myself, seeking to escape not just him but the pain he had inflicted upon me. It was a decision that sent me into a nine-month coma—a sleep so deep it felt like an eternity. When I awoke, I was a shell of my former self.

The years following his arrest were a blur of therapy sessions with Dr. Park, who helped me piece my shattered mind back together. I often visited my cousin Yoonbum, who became my anchor during those dark times. His laughter and warmth were a reprieve from the constant weight of my memories.

But even in that fragile state, I felt the echoes of my parents' deaths pulling me down further into despair. Their absence left a void that no amount of therapy could fill. Yet I tried to push through, determined to live the life they would have wanted for me.

I even got a dog, Seungbae, a small bundle of fur who became my loyal companion. He helped ground me in ways I couldn't have anticipated. But just as I began to feel some semblance of normalcy, I received a letter from Sangwoo, a reminder that my nightmare wasn't over. He was due for release soon, and the thought sent me spiraling back into darkness.

Sangwoo had been in jail for those five years, locked away for his crimes. I had dared to hope that I was finally free, that he would never find me again. But now, as I sat in Joe's car, I felt my past slithering back, coiling tightly around my throat.

We arrived at the bookstore, and my mind raced. He had found me. How had he found me? I had blocked his number, changed addresses, moved across the country to get away from him. But it didn't matter—he always found a way.

Joe and I walked into the store, the weight of the encounter pressing down on my shoulders. I busied myself stacking boxes, trying to ignore the growing unease. But then I saw him. Not through the glass this time—no, he was inside the store, standing amongst the regular customers like he belonged here.

My heart dropped.

I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I typed: "Can I go downstairs to unload these? I don't want to be up here if he's here." Joe looked at the message, his face hardening as he nodded.

Downstairs, the silence was suffocating. I started stacking books again, trying to focus on the mundane task to keep my mind from spiraling, but it didn't help. He was here. And I knew what that meant.

I couldn't let him ruin my life again. I was finally free, or so I thought.