Between the Lines | Riize Wonbin

Chapter 29: The Vanishing Act

Wonbin had never been one to clash openly with his family, especially not with his father. But the tension had been building for months, ever since his father started pushing him into a life that didn't feel like his own. He was expected to follow in the family's footsteps, to live up to standards he never set for himself. His interests, his dreams-none of it seemed to matter.

The night before he left, they had argued again. This time, it was worse. The fight exploded over the dinner table, with his father's sharp tone reverberating against the walls.

"You have everything laid out for you. Why are you trying to throw it all away?" his father had demanded, his voice hard, eyes fixed on him in frustration. "Think about the family, the legacy you're supposed to uphold."

Wonbin clenched his fists, his father's words echoing in his ears as he stormed out of the house. They had fought before-harsh, heated arguments that were almost routine now-but this one felt different. More final. His father had always been relentless about molding him into his own vision of success, criticizing Wonbin's dreams as impractical, a waste of potential.

"You think you know what's best for yourself?" his father had sneered, the disappointment etched deeply into his face. "You're just a boy chasing illusions. When are you going to realize that the world doesn't care about what you want?"

The words stung, cutting deeper than Wonbin wanted to admit. This time, instead of arguing back, he'd let the silence sit between them. For a brief moment, he thought of Juhee-the one person who'd ever truly seen him, who understood the dreams he kept hidden from everyone else. But the thought of her only made the suffocating tension worse, so he'd grabbed his bag, left his father's house, and walked away.

With each step, his resolve strengthened. He wouldn't keep living under someone else's expectations. The next morning, Wonbin finalized the job application he had been considering, secured the offer in a city miles away, and left without a word to anyone. He changed his phone number, blocked the familiar contacts that might attempt to reach him, and shut out the world he was leaving behind.

Even as he crossed the city limits, his thoughts drifted back to Juhee. Their last shared moments replayed in his mind-the hesitation in her voice, the unspoken tension between them. He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought aside. She'd be better off without him. He couldn't let anyone tether him to a life he was determined to escape. And yet, as he drove away, her face lingered in his thoughts, more vividly than he'd expected.

The following day, Juhee was weaving through campus when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Karina, her face unusually serious.

"Hey, did you hear?" she asked softly.

Juhee blinked, taken off guard by her friend's tone. "Hear what?"

"Wonbin... he left. He's gone, Juhee. Packed up and moved to another city," Karina said, watching Juhee's reaction carefully.

The ground seemed to slip beneath her. "What?" The word came out as a whisper, her mind racing. "When?"

"Just yesterday," Karina replied. "He didn't tell anyone where he was going. I thought... I thought he'd have at least told you."

Juhee felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. She barely heard Karina's words as she tried to process what she'd just learned. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heart pounding as she pulled her phone from her bag and dialed Wonbin's number. She waited, clinging to the hope that he'd answer, but each ring only deepened the ache in her chest. Finally, the automated message played: "This number is no longer in service." She tried again, but it was useless. He had changed his number.

Panic flared. She messaged a few of his friends, desperate for information, but the responses were the same-no one knew he was leaving.

Later, back in her room, Juhee sat in stunned silence. She scrolled through her messages, rereading their last conversations, searching for any sign, any warning. But there was nothing. She had thought they'd left things open, unfinished, but she never imagined he'd vanish like this, leaving her with nothing but silence.

As the hours passed, the weight of his absence settled over her. She wanted to be angry, but the overwhelming sadness drowned out every other emotion. The uncertainty lingered, a relentless ache as she wondered why he hadn't at least told her, offered her a single moment of closure.

That night, Juhee lay in bed, her heart heavy, haunted by the memory of him. She held her phone close, as though clinging to the faint hope that he might somehow reach out, that he might still care. But the emptiness in her heart echoed louder, and all that remained were unanswered questions and the silence he'd left behind.