Her Song, His Heart

The Sound of Healjng

The days that followed Mannon’s emotional release in the park were quieter, but there was a new sense of resolve about her. She had allowed herself to accept help, something she hadn’t done in a long time. And while the weight of everything hadn’t lifted completely, it felt a little less heavy with Hyunjin by her side.

Mannon had always known how to mask her pain, to put on a smile and play the role of the confident, carefree girl everyone admired. But in the privacy of her room, her true feelings came crashing down. The pressure of her illness, her identity, and the weight of her own expectations had been suffocating her. But with Hyunjin's support, she felt like there was room to breathe again.

---

That evening, after dinner with the group, Mannon sat alone in the living room, her notebook open in front of her. The music she had written in the past few weeks felt distant to her—her soul was too raw, too exposed. But she couldn’t ignore the pull of the melodies, the need to express what had been left unsaid for so long.

She picked up her guitar, strumming a few chords softly, her fingers hesitant at first. Music had always been her way of processing the world around her, but it had felt so foreign in the last few months. The notes felt heavier, more sorrowful, but as she sang, her voice became a release.

The sound filled the room, soft and aching at first, but growing stronger with every breath. Her lyrics spoke of heartache, of feeling lost, of wanting to break free from the chains that bound her. It was a song about struggle, but also about finding hope in the darkest of places. A raw, vulnerable cry for help that no one had ever heard before.

---

Hyunjin had been walking past the living room when he heard the faint sound of her voice, laced with emotion, floating through the hallway. He paused, uncertain whether to interrupt or let her have this moment alone. But the song caught his attention—there was something different in the way she sang tonight. The vulnerability, the honesty in her voice, tugged at his heart.

He stepped closer, lingering by the door, not wanting to disturb her. Her eyes were closed, her face turned slightly upward as she poured herself into the music. The vulnerability in her voice was palpable, raw—she was singing a part of herself that no one had ever heard before.

---

Mannon finished the song, her breath ragged as she let the final note linger in the air. Her fingers fell from the strings, and for a long moment, there was silence.

"That was beautiful," a voice interrupted, breaking the stillness.

Mannon's eyes snapped open, her heart racing as she turned toward Hyunjin. She hadn’t realized he was standing there, had been listening. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she quickly put her guitar down, standing up in a flurry of motion.

"I-I didn’t know you were there," she stammered, her voice nervous. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean for you to hear—"

Hyunjin stepped into the room, his gaze soft and understanding. "Why apologize?" he said, his voice steady. "You don't need to hide your voice, Mannon. You have a gift."

Mannon looked down, her fingers nervously toying with the hem of her shirt. "I don’t know," she murmured. "It’s just... it feels like I’m putting too much of myself out there sometimes."

Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, stepping closer. "Mannon," he said gently, his voice laced with sincerity. "You’re allowed to be vulnerable. You don’t have to carry everything on your own. And your voice... it’s amazing. You should share it with the world."

Mannon’s breath hitched in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She had always kept her music close to her heart, fearful that others might not understand her, or worse—judge her. But Hyunjin, standing there with such genuine admiration, made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t in a long time.

"You really think so?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know so," Hyunjin replied, his eyes not leaving hers. "I can hear it. You’re not just singing words—you’re telling a story. Your story. And that’s something beautiful."

For a long moment, Mannon stood there, searching his face, as if looking for any sign that he was just being kind. But all she saw was sincerity, warmth, and something deeper she couldn’t quite place. She felt a flutter in her chest, but it wasn’t the same nervousness she had always felt around him. This was something different—something stronger.

---

"Do you... do you think I could really do something with it? With my music?" Mannon asked, her voice tentative. She was afraid of putting her dream into words, but she couldn’t ignore the spark of hope that had been kindling inside her.

Hyunjin smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made her heart skip a beat. "I think you could do anything you set your mind to," he said, his voice unwavering. "And I’d be here to support you every step of the way."

Mannon couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest at his words. She had spent so long trying to keep her passion hidden, afraid that if she exposed too much of herself, she would be vulnerable to the world’s judgment. But in that moment, surrounded by the quiet confidence in Hyunjin’s words, she felt a surge of courage. Maybe, just maybe, she could take that first step into the light.

---

Later that evening, after a long day of rehearsals and group activities, Mannon found herself sitting in her room, guitar in hand, her thoughts racing. The pressure of everything—her mental health, her dreams, her struggles—felt like a heavy weight, but with Hyunjin’s encouragement, it felt a little more manageable. She was no longer alone in her journey. She had someone who believed in her.

Her fingers found the strings again, her mind automatically returning to the song she had written earlier. She hadn’t finished it before, but now, with a renewed sense of purpose, she let the lyrics flow freely.

She sang quietly at first, her voice low and fragile, but it grew with each line, becoming stronger, clearer. She wasn’t just singing anymore—she was healing. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like she was moving toward something brighter. Something that was hers.

The song was no longer just an expression of pain—it was a declaration of who she was, who she wanted to become.

And maybe, just maybe, she could make her dreams come true.