WHEN LOVE FAILS

CHAPTER 15 - The Relationship Disaster

A month had passed, and now the day had come for him to return to Korea. When Wonnie told me this, I tried to keep my composure.

"I have to go back to Korea for business,"
he explained, looking away as if it was hard for him to say.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "When will you come back?" I asked, trying to hide the worry in my voice.

He hesitated before replying, "I don't know yet, Jagi. I promise I'll come back to you."
Those words echoed in my mind long after he left, filling me with an uneasy feeling I couldn't shake.

The day of Wonnie's arrival in Korea

The days felt longer, emptier without him by my side. I'd scroll through our old photos, replaying memories and wondering when—or if—he'd be back.

The uncertainty was eating away at me, but I told myself to be patient. I wanted to trust that Wonnie would return as soon as he could, that this was only temporary. But something didn't feel right. In the quiet moments, doubt crept in, and I'd catch myself thinking, What if he doesn't come back at all?

One evening, while scrolling through social media, I stumbled upon a photo that shattered me. There was Wonnie, standing next to a woman I didn't recognize, looking tense and uncomfortable, yet dressed for a formal occasion.

A comment underneath said it was part of his family's "arranged engagement."

My heart sank, and a wave of pain and disbelief washed over me.

Was this why he went back?

The idea that he could be part of something like this, and hadn't told me, felt like a betrayal. I couldn't believe it—he left without saying anything.

I messaged him immediately, my fingers shaking as I typed.

"Jagi, is what I'm seeing true? Are you in an arranged marriage?"

I waited, my chest tightening with every passing second.

When he finally replied, his message was short:
"Yes, Jagi. Family expectations. I don't want this, but it's difficult... I'm sorry."

Reading those words, I felt a sharp ache. All the plans, dreams, and love we shared now felt like fragments slipping through my fingers.

"You're my love," he added.

I wanted to yell, to cry, to ask why he hadn't trusted me with the truth.

After that message, all his social media accounts and phone numbers became unreachable.

In the days that followed, I wrestled with the emptiness he left behind. Part of me felt foolish for believing we could make it work, for thinking our love was unbreakable.

I missed him deeply, but more than that, I missed the future I had begun to imagine with him. Through the heartbreak, I knew I had to let him go—even if it meant accepting that some love stories end not because they lack love, but because life pulls us in different directions.

After seeing that photo, I spent the entire night wide awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment we shared. My thoughts spiraled, each memory bringing a pang of hurt.