Love , Again ?? || RM

Part 64 - Almost Smiles, Almost Tears

Geum Hi's POV 

The night air outside was cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside that home—his home. As I stepped into the quiet lane, the hush of the city asleep wrapped around me, but inside... my thoughts were loud.One month.That's what I told myself.One month to try and reconnect. To see if the love we once shared still had a place in his heart But now... after tonight, I wasn't sure if I was already too late.

I kept seeing it over and over the way he said "heartpiece." Like it wasn't just a nickname, but something sacred. The way Y/N looked at him without flinching, no nervous laughter, no fluttery eyes. Just... comfort. Like she knew she belonged there, next to him. Like they'd already had lifetimes together, even if they didn't call it love .Maybe she truly doesn't have feelings for him. But he does. The way he reached out for her hand so effortlessly, so naturally — it wasn't a man doing something impulsive. It was a man choosing his peace.

And she was his peace. As I reached my hotel room, I threw my bag on the chair and stood by the window, letting the curtains drift with the breeze. I could see a small glow in the distance—maybe the same building, maybe not. But I pictured him there, in that room. Maybe talking to her, maybe sitting in silence. Maybe listening to her heartbeat the way he used to listen to mine.

And for the first time since I returned, I wasn't angry. Just... exhausted. Was it ever about getting him back? Or was I just trying to prove something to myself? But now... watching them, feeling the calm between them—something inside me softened. Maybe it was acceptance. Or maybe it was the beginning of heartbreak all over again. Still, I wasn't ready to give up. Not just yet.

I had one month. To find out if the Hannie who once loved me... still existed beneath the one who now found comfort in someone else. To know if I was chasing memories... or if I still had a place in his story. But tonight, as I sank into bed, one thing was painfully clear ; He may have shut the door gently but it wasn't just to keep the night out. It was to keep her in.

I turned over again for what felt like the hundredth time, the white sheets twisted at my ankles. The fan above whirred gently, but even its rhythm couldn't lull me to sleep. Sleep wouldn't come. Not tonight. Every time I closed my eyes, the same scene played over and over in my head like a loop I didn't ask for - Hannie walking away, his fingers gently curled around Y/N's wrist, the way he turned to her with that soft, almost subconscious smile. That same smile I used to think was only mine.

It wasn't even romantic. But it was tender and that's what hurt. He didn't even have to say anything. He just looked at her like she belonged. And she walked beside him like she already knew it. That quiet kind of connection... God, it was driving me insane.

I buried my face into the pillow, as if it could suffocate the memories clawing their way back up. But they rose like tides I had no control over. And suddenly  I was no longer in this cold hotel room.I was a teen again. Back in my house. Back when everything felt brand new and terrifying in the best way. We had just started dating. It hadn't even been two weeks.

Before that, we'd been best friends who shared playlists and talked about dumb things like constellations and flavors of ice cream that didn't exist. He'd come over because I insisted I wanted to cook something for him—even though I could barely make ramen without burning the pot.

"No one's home?" he asked, stepping into the living room, his eyes wide like he wasn't used to being somewhere without rules.

I laughed. "Nope. You're stuck with just me."

He smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Good. I like being stuck with you."

We were both awkward. Not because we didn't want to be there because we did. But this was all so new. Being more than friends. Saying things that used to be jokes, but now carried weight. Sitting close on the couch meant something. Brushing fingers while handing a spoon meant something. That day, I ended up burning the rice and he pretended to love it anyway.