My Sister's Boyfriend | Yeonbin

f o r t y n i n e

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The car hummed to a stop in front of the Choi family’s house, its engine echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Yeonjun’s fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned pale.

His eyes traced the house, taking in every familiar detail—each window, each brick, every part of it, as if the place had stayed frozen in time, just waiting for him to return.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that stepping out of the car now would be like walking straight into a storm. The door was right in front of him, but his body refused to move.

His stomach churned, knotting tightly as memories of this place flooded his mind—memories he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

It was the same house, but the atmosphere felt different. Too heavy, too suffocating, like a million unspoken words hung in the air.

He was terrified to knock on that door, terrified to face the past that lay just beyond it. After everything—after the hurt, the betrayal, the regret—could he really walk back in?

He reached for the door handle, but his hand paused mid-air. His body felt rooted to the seat, locked in place by doubt and fear. The thought of walking away was so tempting. He could just leave. Drive away. Pretend this was just a bad dream.

Then, as if summoned by his own thoughts, Kara’s voice echoed through his mind: "This is for Soobin. He misses you."

Yeonjun swallowed hard. Her words grounded him, gave him a sense of purpose, even if he didn’t quite believe he was ready to face everything that awaited him. You can do this.

He told himself that again, and again, but it didn’t make it any easier. His legs felt like stone, unmovable, as though the very weight of his past had anchored him to the car.

But eventually, with a deep breath and a trembling exhale, Yeonjun opened the car door and stepped out. His feet felt heavy on the pavement, as though the ground itself resisted his movement. But he pushed forward.

With each step toward the door, his heart raced faster, and each second seemed to stretch longer than the last. When he reached the front door, he stood there for a moment, just staring at the wood in front of him, as if it could give him an answer.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorbell. He wanted to turn back. He wanted to run.

But there was no going back now. With a sigh, Yeonjun knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound echoed through his chest, vibrating through his bones. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, gripping them tightly, trying to steady his shaking fingers.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Kara stood there, her face unreadable, though her eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite identify.

They both froze for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. Yeonjun’s throat felt dry, as if the words were stuck somewhere deep inside him.

Kara cleared her throat first, stepping aside. “Hey. Come on in.”

Yeonjun blinked, startled by the normalcy of her voice, and hesitated only a second before stepping across the threshold.

As soon as he did, the familiar smell of the house hit him like a punch—freshly baked cookies, lavender-scented air freshener, and the subtle scent of home. It was all too much, too overwhelming. This was his house. Or, at least, it had been.