𝔻é𝕛à 𝕣ê𝕧é 𝟚𝟙+ 𝕁𝕁𝕂

𝕀'𝕞 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖:ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝟚

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Amelia sat in the dim glow of the studio, her fingers nervously twisting the delicate engagement ring on her finger. The very sight of it—a symbol of a future she never anticipated—felt like both a comfort and a weight pressing heavily on her heart. The memory of Kook's unexpected return played in her mind like a fragmented film, his face etched with longing, regret, and hope. Kook's eyes drop to the ring on Amelia's finger, his breath catching slightly, though he tries to mask it. The faint glint of the metal under the soft studio light feels like a dagger, sharp and undeniable. His gaze lingers there, filled with a thousand unspoken words—a mixture of realization, regret, and heartbreak woven into the depths of his dark eyes. It's almost as if he knows, as if the ring itself has told him everything he was afraid to ask.

Amelia follows his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. The silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. She instinctively covers the ring with her other hand, as if that simple gesture could hide the truth. But it's too late. The damage is done, and the realization has already carved itself into Kook's heart. He looks up, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of sadness she's never seen before. "So," he says softly, his voice rough around the edges, "you've moved on." Amelia's throat tightens. Words flutter to the surface but die before they can escape. How could she explain the void his absence left, the unbearable grief that nearly consumed her, and the way Dohwan had been a lifeboat in the storm? How could she justify the love that grew in the shadow of her loss?

She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought you were gone forever. I didn't know how to survive without you." Kook nods slowly, his jaw clenched, but his eyes betray him—glassy, filled with an ache that mirrors her own. He takes a shaky breath, his hand lifting slightly as though he wants to reach for her, but he lets it fall back to his side. "I always thought the hardest part would be leaving," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "But it's not. It's coming back. And realizing the world didn't stop without me."

The words hang in the air between them, fragile and heavy. Amelia steps closer, her heart torn between the man standing in front of her and the man waiting at home. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing against Kook's scarred cheek, a touch filled with memories, love, and unbearable pain. "I never stopped loving you," she whispers, her voice trembling. "But I don't know how to find my way back." Kook closes his eyes, leaning into her touch for the briefest of moments before stepping back, creating a space filled with everything they've lost and everything that still lingers between them.

Kook's voice was barely more than a breath, trembling as he stepped closer, his eyes brimming with an emotion so raw it made Amelia's heart ache. "Amelia," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the ring glinting accusingly on her finger. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Is he the man you're engaged to? Is it Dohwan?" The words seemed to echo in the dimly lit studio, heavy and suffocating. Amelia's chest tightened painfully. Her fingers instinctively covered the ring, as if shielding it could somehow shield the truth. But the silence was louder than any confession. She finally nodded, her voice a fragile whisper, "Yes. It's Dohwan."

Kook's face crumpled, the carefully built walls around his heart shattering in an instant. His breath hitched, a sharp sound like a man struggling to stay afloat in deep, treacherous waters. A single tear escaped down his scarred cheek, tracing the lines of battles fought—both seen and unseen. His knees buckled slightly, steadied only by a trembling hand gripping the edge of a nearby table. His gaze grew distant, unmoored from the present, drawn into the undertow of a memory:

They were lying under a sky full of stars, their fingers intertwined, the cool grass beneath them a soft cradle. Kook had turned to her, his face bathed in moonlight, his smile easy, unguarded. "Do you think the stars remember us?" he had whispered, his thumb brushing circles on the back of her hand. Amelia had laughed softly, her breath mingling with his in the night air. "Maybe," she replied. "But even if they don't, I'll remember for them." His lips had found hers then, a kiss that tasted of forever, sealing a silent promise neither had dared to speak aloud.

The memory surged and crashed as Kook blinked back into the present, the warmth of that night now a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness pressing in on him. He staggered back a step, his hand reaching out as if to catch hold of something that wasn't there. "I kept going because..." His voice broke, cracked and raw. "I kept going because the thought of you was the only thing that kept me alive. I thought—" He choked, shaking his head, his breath ragged. "I thought I'd come back, and we'd pick up where we left off. That somehow... we'd still be us."

Amelia's tears blurred her vision, her heart shattering under the weight of his pain. She wanted to reach for him, to tether him to the present, to ease the ache carved into his features. But her hands remained frozen at her sides, paralyzed by the tangled threads of love and betrayal. Kook wiped his face roughly, a bitter laugh escaping through his tears. "I was such a fool," he rasped. "Foolish enough to believe the world could pause without me. Foolish enough to think your heart would, too."

He turned away for a heartbeat, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, then faced her again—eyes red-rimmed but filled with a fierce, desperate love. "I never stopped loving you, Amelia. Not for a second. And I probably never will." With that final, heart-wrenching truth hanging in the air, Kook forced himself to turn, his steps heavy as if each one carried the weight of every moment they'd lost. Amelia stood rooted, her heart screaming for him to stay, but her voice remained trapped behind the lump in her throat, suffocated by the love and the loss tangled within.

Kook's footsteps echoed faintly in the narrow hallway as he walked away, each step heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of words left unspoken and a heart splintered by time and regret. The dim light cast long shadows, mirroring the darkness he carried within. He forced himself to take another step, the ache in his chest growing unbearable. Then he heard it—Amelia's voice, raw and trembling, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Please don't leave me again!"

Kook froze mid-step, his breath hitching, the plea reverberating through the hollow spaces of his heart. For a moment, he wondered if his mind was playing cruel tricks, weaving desperate fantasies from threads of longing. But the desperation in her voice was real—undeniable. His heart raced as he slowly turned around, afraid of what he'd see, afraid it was only a fleeting illusion. But there she was, running toward him, her face streaked with tears, her arms outstretched. Time seemed to falter, the world narrowing until all that remained was Amelia.

When she collided with him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, he staggered back slightly, overwhelmed by the suddenness of it—her warmth, her scent, her very presence grounding him in a reality he never thought he'd have again. His arms hesitated for a heartbeat, trembling with disbelief, before instinct took over. He held her close, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. The familiar rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest was both a comfort and a painful reminder of everything they'd lost.

"I thought I lost you forever," she whispered, her words muffled against him, yet piercing straight through his soul. Kook's eyes stung with unshed tears as he tightened his hold, his voice barely a breath. "I'm here now, Amelia. I'm not going anywhere." In that fragile embrace, relief surged through him, mingling with the grief and guilt he'd carried for so long. Her plea had anchored him, unraveling the fear that had bound his heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was home.