"Hello?"
"If you want your wife, Kim Hauen, come to Street Number 26 immediately. You have ten minutes."
Suho froze.
"What? Who are you? Where is Hauen? How do you know her?" His voice cracked as the questions spilled out uncontrollably.
"Ten minutes."
The call disconnected.
"Hello? Hello!" he shouted into the phone.
Silence.
The screen went dark.
Suho's world tilted.
Street Number 26. Ten minutes.
His chest tightened as fear slammed into him like a physical force. Without thinking, he sprang up from the bed and dashed out of the hotel room, still in his night clothes, slippers slapping against the floor.
His heart raced like a bullet train, every second screaming her name.
He jabbed the elevator button again and again. It didn't arrive fast enough,
He glanced at the time.
Panic surged.
"Shit—"
He bolted toward the staircase and started running down, skipping steps, gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
He wasn't running anymore. He was chasing time itself. And every step echoed one terrifying thought in his mind.
He stumbled onto the road, chest burning, vision blurring. His eyes shot up to the signboard.
Street Number 16.
"No… no—"
Street Number 26.
He spun around, scanning frantically, then forced his legs to move again. His breath came out uneven, ragged, tearing through his throat as he ran toward the next street.
Another signboard.
Street Number 21.
His heart sank.
This street felt endless, looping back into itself like a cruel maze. He didn't know whether to trust the voice on the phone, didn't know if this was a trap or a lie.
But the man had said her name.
Hauen.
That alone was enough.
He ran again, ignoring the burning in his legs, the dizziness creeping up his spine. Finally, he staggered into the middle of the next street and stopped abruptly.
His gaze lifted.
Street Number 26.
He stood there, frozen. The street was empty.
Dark. Silent.
A lone streetlamp glowed in a dull golden hue, casting long, distorted shadows on the road. No cars. No footsteps. No movement.
Nothing.
His breathing turned frantic, hands braced against his knees as his legs trembled beneath him. He looked around wildly, heart hammering as if it would tear out of his chest.
"Ha… Hauen?" he whispered, his voice barely carrying.
No answer.
He pulled out his phone with shaking hands and checked the time.
Was he late?
Had he missed them?
Did they take her away already?
Did he lose her again?
Panic swallowed him whole.
His face flushed red, eyes burning as tears welled up uncontrollably. He stood there in the middle of that empty street, surrounded by silence, fear clawing at his chest.
Please… not her.
"Hauen—!" he yelled, spinning around wildly.
"Hauenaa—!" he screamed again, his voice cracking under its own weight.
"Where are you, Hauenaa—!"
His legs finally gave up on him. He dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, the cold asphalt biting through his skin.
"Please… please come out…" he sobbed, fists pounding the ground. "Leave my wife, you bastard! Why are you keeping her? She's mine… she is mine—!"
His words came out broken, scattered, and soaked in desperation.
No answer.
Only silence.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he cried again, tears streaming freely now. "Who are you? Give my Hauenie back… give her back to me…"
Still nothing.
The street stayed cruelly quiet.
The golden streetlight flickered above him as the cold crept into his bones. He remained there, shoulders shaking, crying his heart out, every ounce of hope slipping through his fingers like sand.
And then—
"Suho…"
The voice was soft. Fragile. Laced with pain.
His sobs stopped instantly.
His breath hitched.
That voice.
The same one he had heard a year ago. The same one that never left his mind. The same one he had been calling out to in his sleep.
His heart began to race violently, pounding so hard it hurt. His hands trembled. His legs felt weak, useless beneath him.
He didn't dare turn around.
What if it wasn't real?
What if his mind was playing tricks on him again?
In a broken whisper, barely loud enough to exist, he breathed...
"Teddy…"
Her voice came again, soft yet trembling, like a fragile thread pulling him back to life.
"Hauenie…" he whispered.
His breath came uneven, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Tears clung stubbornly to his lashes, blurring the world into streaks of gold and shadow. Slowly, almost afraid, he turned his head.
His vision swam.
A figure stood a little distance away.
He blinked hard, letting the tears finally fall. The streetlights sharpened. The night steadied.
And there she was.
Hauen. His Hauen.
"Hauena…" The name slipped out like a prayer he had been repeating for a year. His throat locked around it, emotions rising too fast, too violently.
"Hauena," he called again, louder this time, as if saying it once wasn't enough to make her real.
She nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face, her lips trembling as she tried to hold herself together.
His heart went wild. His legs shook beneath him, nerves misfiring, body refusing to cooperate with the storm inside. He tried to stand. His knees buckled, and he fell, palms hitting the cold street.
It didn't matter. His eyes never left her.
He pushed himself up again, stumbling forward, only for his legs to give up once more. His body felt foreign, useless, overwhelmed by the sheer force of finally seeing her.
She gasped, stepping forward instinctively when he fell.
Again, he rose.
This time, driven by desperation, by instinct, by a love that had survived everything meant to kill it. He reached her and collapsed into her, arms wrapping around her as if his life depended on it.
Because it did.
He held her tightly. Too tightly. Afraid that if he loosened his grip even a fraction, she would be snatched away again.
She stumbled back a few steps under his weight, but she didn't push him away. She held him.
He broke down. His sobs tore out of him, raw and unrestrained. His face buried into the curve of her neck, tears soaking into her dress as if his body had been waiting for this moment to finally fall apart.
"You were here… you're here," he cried, voice shattering. "Why did you leave me?"
His words came out broken, jagged, like glass dragged across his throat.
She cried with him, her own tears falling freely now. She had missed him, too. Craved him in silence. Survived only by clinging to the memory of his voice.
"Why did you leave me, Hauena?" he sobbed, his voice hoarse, echoing through the empty street like a cry at a funeral. "I was dying every day without you…"
Her chest ached. Her hands tightened around him, holding him together when he could no longer do it himself.
"I love you, Hauena," he cried, clinging to her as if the world might steal her away again. "I can't live without you."
"I love you too, my teddy bear," she whispered into his hair, her voice breaking as badly as his had.
And he cried.
Not quietly. Not with dignity. He cried like a man who had been holding his breath for a year and was finally allowed to breathe. Like someone who had carried a mountain of pain behind calm eyes and a straight spine, never letting it show.
He cried into her shoulder, gripping her as if she were the only solid thing left in a collapsing world. He didn't care where they were. Didn't care who might see. Nothing existed beyond this moment.
She held him closer. She didn't rush him. Didn't ask questions. Didn't interrupt his grief. She simply held him.
Because she knew. She knew what he had endured. How had she survived these months without her? How he had bled silently, drowning in responsibility and sacrifice.
And she knew she had been bleeding too, miles away, loving him just as fiercely, just as helplessly.
So she stayed.
Holding him. Letting him cry. Letting him empty the grief he had buried for a year.
Until his sobs softened. Until his breathing steadied. Until the man in her arms felt human again.