[Note: this is gonna be k-drama styled novel, however the events and blah blah are fictional and things said in the book are not related to true events]
"Don't give up on your dreams, agi."His voice was warm, steady, a low murmur that wrapped around my heart like a promise. He pulled me into another hug, one of those strong embraces that made me believe the world would never change, that he would always stay.
I chuckled softly, pressing the camera into his hands. "Oppa, at least look at the pictures."
He tilted the camera toward the light, eyes narrowing as he studied each image. Then his lips curved upward, slow and soft, until they formed the smile I loved most. "They're good. You're good."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze. "It's… too easy to impress you."
He laughed, a rich sound, deep and unguarded, and the warmth of it lingered in my chest. "Am I that easy to impress?" he teased, reaching out to ruffle my hair.
For a moment, the world was still—his voice, his smile, his presence. I wanted to freeze that second, to hold on forever.
But forever was an illusion.
"Eomma! I'm starving!"
The small voice of my daughter pulled me violently back to reality. I blinked, the memory dissolving like mist, and turned toward the kitchen where Yeona sat at the table, banging her tiny fists on the wood in impatient rhythm.
"I'm coming, baby," I whispered, forcing a smile as I set the tray down.
Her four-year-old eyes lit up when the bowl of steaming juk appeared before her. "Food!" she squealed, clapping her hands.
I tied her apron, brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen into her face, and began spooning porridge into her mouth. She giggled as she tried to feed herself, spilling more than she ate, her cheeks puffing out like a little chipmunk.
Moments like this were my anchor.
The phone rang.
I picked it up with my free hand, tucking it between my ear and shoulder while guiding another spoonful toward Yeona's lips. "Yeoboseyo?"
"Oh, Kyung-hee-ya…" My best friend's voice carried through the line, a mix of urgency and hesitation.
"Hm?" I asked, wiping the trail of porridge from Yeona's chin.
"Did you see the news?"
My heart stilled.
"No, I did not. What happened?"
There was silence on the other side, only her breathing and the faint crackle of background noise.
"Well… the thing is—"
"Ae-cha, please," I said quickly, panic rising in my throat. "Tell me. What is it?"
"I'll send it to you," she whispered.
Before I could protest, the call ended. A notification blinked on my screen.
With trembling hands, I opened the message. A video.
I tapped it, and the screen lit up. The world seemed to tilt under my feet.
It was him.
Jeon Ji-hun.
Even through the shaky phone recording, I recognized him instantly—his tall frame, the sharp lines of his suit, the way his presence commanded every corner of the room. Cameras flashed around him, reporters calling his name as if he were royalty, untouchable and distant.
But what stole the air from my lungs was not just him—it was the woman beside him.
Her arm looped through his, her face glowing with practiced elegance. Baek Myung.
Of course, I knew her. She was from one of the richest families in Seoul, a woman groomed for perfection since birth. And there he was, standing with her as though they were carved from the same world, his arm steady around her waist as though it belonged there.
"Why did you decide to marry her?" a reporter shouted.
Ji-hun's eyebrow arched ever so slightly, his lips curving into that cold smirk I once mistook for charm. "Is that a question?" he said, voice sharp, dismissive, as though the world had no right to doubt his choice.
My chest tightened.
The video ended. My reflection stared back from the darkened screen—eyes wide, lips parted, trembling.
"No," I whispered, my voice cracking.
I opened Google with frantic fingers. And there it was. Headlines blaring across every site.
"Famous CEO Jeon Ji-hun is engaged to Baek Myung. Wedding soon to follow."
My hands shook as I scrolled. Photos of them together, smiling for cameras, walking side by side as if they were already husband and wife. Each picture was another knife, twisting deeper.
Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and uncontrollable. I didn't want to cry. Not after all these years. Not when I had built a life, no matter how small, without him.
It was our past. Just our past.
Then why did my heart ache as though it were happening all over again?
"Eomma… why are you crying?"
Yeona's small voice pierced through the fog of despair.
I wiped my cheeks hastily, forcing the brightest smile I could muster. "Eomma isn't crying, baby. Some rice got in my eyes, that's all."
She tilted her head, unconvinced, but her attention quickly returned to her porridge.
I turned away, pressing a hand to my chest. The tears wouldn't stop.
Because no matter how much I tried to bury it, the truth remained.
He had been my first love. My only love. The boy who became a man I could never forget, no matter how cruelly our story had ended. And now, the man who once held me as though I was his entire world… was preparing to marry someone else.
My world collapsed silently, while my daughter laughed at spilled porridge.
I closed my eyes, whispering a promise only I could hear.
"You will never know, Ji-hun. You will never know about her… about us."
But for my daughter i will keep living and i'm happy with my job my life.
I don't need Ji-hun or anyone, I can stand up for me. I'm not someone who should fall for anyone's trap rather 'love trap.'
I am me..Kim Kyung-hee and i'm independent.