Unwritten Chords Of Love

Breaking the Silence

The air had started to chill as the last weeks of autumn crept by, but Hanni had found warmth in places she hadn't expected. The song she'd been writing, the one she'd started in the quiet of her room after her talk with Jiwoo, had become her refuge. It was a song that made sense of the confusion, of the feelings that had been swirling in her heart for months. It wasn't about Minji, it wasn't about anyone else—it was about *her*. About realizing that she didn't need to chase after someone else's version of love to feel complete.

And yet, despite the clarity she'd found in her music, there was still one thing Hanni couldn't shake: the silence between her and Minji.

They hadn't talked much since their last meeting in the park. At first, Hanni had told herself that it was fine—that she was fine. After all, they had parted on good terms, and the emotional chaos of their past had been settled, right? But as the days went by, Hanni found herself thinking of Minji more often than she'd anticipated. The way Minji had listened when Hanni spoke, the way she had looked at her with an understanding that felt both comforting and foreign.

Hanni didn't know what she expected from their relationship anymore. After their conversation in the park, she had hoped things would be clearer, but the truth was—*nothing* was clear. Their feelings hadn't magically been sorted out, and neither had their connection. It was just... there, lingering in the background.

It was one evening, a few days before the start of winter break, when Hanni finally decided to do something about the silence. She had spent the afternoon writing new lyrics, her thoughts a little less tangled now, but still not entirely at ease. It was getting late, and she had just finished a last strum on her guitar when her phone buzzed.

*From: Minji*

*Hey, you free tomorrow? I've got something I'd like to talk about.*

Hanni's heart skipped a beat as she read the message. She stared at it for a long moment, uncertainty creeping back in. What did Minji want to talk about? Was it more closure, more explanation about what had happened between them? Or was this something else entirely?

She replied, her fingers shaking a little as she typed out the words. *Sure, what time?*

*How about 2 p.m. at the park?*

*Sounds good.*

Hanni stared at the screen for a moment longer before locking her phone and setting it down on her desk. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she knew one thing: she wasn't going to hide from this conversation. She had spent too long running away from things—running from her feelings, from the past, from Minji. But now, she had to face it.

---

The next day, Hanni found herself walking toward the park again, guitar case in hand, as she thought about what this conversation could mean. She was nervous, but it wasn't the same kind of nervous she had felt before—there was something steadier about it now. More certain. Maybe because, for the first time, she was more sure of herself than she'd ever been before.

She arrived at the park at exactly 2 p.m., and saw Minji sitting by the same bench where they had talked months ago. The space between them felt less awkward now, and yet there was an unspoken tension in the air—one that neither of them could ignore.

Minji looked up as Hanni approached, her smile soft and almost tentative. "Hey."

"Hey," Hanni replied, sitting down beside her, feeling a bit out of breath despite the short walk. The familiar weight of her guitar case felt grounding, like a reminder of who she was now, separate from all the tangled emotions of the past.

There was a long pause before Minji spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about our conversation in the park," she said quietly, her gaze not quite meeting Hanni's. "About everything, really. And... I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry if I made things harder for you. I think I was confused about a lot of things too, and I don't want to keep making things complicated for you."

Hanni looked at Minji, surprised by the apology, but also relieved. She had never expected Minji to apologize, not like this. She had come to accept that Minji was a part of her past now, but hearing Minji take responsibility for the part she played in their confusion felt like the final piece of closure Hanni had needed.

"I think we were both confused," Hanni said softly, her voice steady. "And that's okay. I know I was. But I think... I think I've finally figured out what I need. It's not about you, or about trying to make something work that wasn't meant to be. It's about me, finding my own way, and understanding who I am outside of all that chaos."

Minji nodded slowly, her eyes distant as she processed Hanni's words. "I get that. And I'm glad you've figured that out. I think I'm still trying to figure out my own stuff, to be honest. But hearing you say that, it feels like... we're finally on the same page."

Hanni smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. This wasn't a dramatic moment, no grand declarations or final decisions. But it was enough. It was real. And in some ways, it felt like the first real step toward healing for both of them.

"I've been thinking about something else too," Minji continued, turning to face Hanni, her voice more tentative now. "About us. And whether... whether we should keep trying to be friends. I know it's complicated, but I still care about you, Hanni. And I want you to be happy. Even if that means... even if that means us not being anything more than what we are now."

Hanni felt a lump rise in her throat at the sincerity in Minji's words. She realized, in that moment, that she wasn't afraid anymore. Not of this conversation, not of what had happened between them. The silence hadn't been about avoiding each other—it had been about *healing*. They had both needed space to understand what their connection really was, without the weight of expectation.

"I care about you too, Minji," Hanni said, her voice soft. "And I think... I think I'm ready to be friends, if that's something we can do. I don't need anything else. I just want to be in a place where I'm happy with myself, and where we can both be okay with where we are."

Minji's expression softened, and a small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Yeah. I think I can live with that."

The silence between them, once so charged with uncertainty, now felt like a space of understanding. Hanni wasn't sure where their friendship would go, or if it would evolve into something more, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that they were both choosing to move forward, each carrying their own experiences but no longer letting them dictate the future.

Minji reached over and gave Hanni's arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm really proud of you, Hanni. For figuring it all out. I know it wasn't easy."

Hanni smiled, feeling the warmth of that simple gesture. "Thanks, Minji. You too."

They sat there for a while longer, the late afternoon light beginning to fade, each lost in their thoughts but at peace with what had been said. The past was still there, but it no longer had the power to hold them back.

As Hanni walked home that evening, her guitar case slung over her shoulder, she felt lighter than she had in months. The silence had been broken. The weight had been lifted. And for the first time in a long time, she was moving forward—not because she had the answers, but because she no longer needed to have them all figured out.

In the quiet of the evening, Hanni realized that sometimes, the hardest part of the journey wasn't the path itself—it was the willingness to step forward into the unknown, knowing that you didn't have to have it all figured out to keep moving. And that was enough.