𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐨

I sit by the sea, where the wind tastes like salt and sadness, where every crashing wave mirrors the noise in my chest. It’s quiet here, but not inside me. I watch the horizon blur with dusk and feel the heaviness of memory cling to my skin like the ocean mist.

Her name was Nicha. My Nicha.

The woman I once held like a secret, like a prayer.

And the woman I let slip through trembling fingers.

I still remember the first time she looked at me—as if she already knew all my darkest thoughts and wanted to hold them anyway. There was something electric between us, something inevitable. She laughed like she didn’t care who was watching, and touched me like I was something delicate, something worth handling with care.

And I loved her.
God, did I love her.

But loving her scared me more than losing her ever could. The deeper I fell, the more exposed I felt—raw, unguarded. And so I did what cowards do: I built walls, whispered doubts into the spaces between us, and convinced myself that walking away was safer than staying and risking being seen for who I truly was.

I told myself it was for the best.

Now, I sit with that lie like a stone in my throat.

I close my eyes and she’s still there.
That soft gasp she made when I kissed the side of her neck.
The way her fingers curled into my shirt when I pulled her closer in the dark.
How she’d murmur my name like a question and an answer all at once.

The way she tasted like freedom.

Tears sting, uninvited, and I don’t bother to stop them.
Because this is the kind of love that doesn’t vanish—it lingers. It haunts.
I didn’t just lose a woman. I lost us. Our plans, our softness, our fire.
I lost the version of myself who wasn’t afraid.

Regret is a cruel kind of companion. It reminds me that I had something rare, something whole. And I let fear speak louder than love.

But here, with the tide creeping close, I make a vow to the wind, to the waves, to the woman I once was when she was still in my arms.

Never again.

Never again will I shrink from the kind of love that makes me feel too much.
Never again will I choose silence over truth, pride over vulnerability.
Next time, I will run toward love, not away.

The sun begins to bleed into the sea, the sky bruised with gold and violet, and it feels like the world is whispering forgiveness. I rise, wiping the tears from my cheeks, the ghost of Nicha’s name still warm in my mouth.

The love I let go may forever ache in my chest, but I won’t let it break me.
She was a chapter. A beautiful one.
But my story is still being written.

And when love comes again, I’ll be ready. This time, I’ll stay.

— Cho Miyeon