Chapter 55

Seonghun bent his head low, matching her eye level. With questioning eyes, he asked her:

“What’s wrong?”

Just from her expression, he seemed to know something had happened.

Unable to answer, she handed him her phone. He saw the caller ID and took the call from her mother.

“This is Seonghun.”

What kind of bad news was her mother telling him? Seonghun’s face darkened.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

His voice was heavy, his replies short. After repeating the same answer several times, he gave the phone back to her.

Now, at last, she had to face the fear hiding in the fog.

“Yes, Mom.”

[Jeongyeon… your dad… passed away. A little earlier than us… he went to heaven.]

The shock was even heavier than she imagined. She couldn’t breathe.

No words, no sentences, not even a single sound left her lips.

Seonghun looked at her quietly, forcing his face to stay calm.

[Jeongyeon, come to your father. You have to say goodbye.]

Goodbye.

That word pierced straight into her chest.

A single tear dropped suddenly from her chin.

“Dad… why?”

That morning he had gone to work smiling, like always. He was the one who rarely even caught a cold.

Why? Why so suddenly?

[A drunk driver… your father…]

Her mother couldn’t finish. Only muffled sobs came through the line.

Then she calmed herself enough to add:

[Come with Seonghun. Don’t come alone.]

Her voice failed. She nodded silently, then barely pushed out a broken word:

“…Okay.”

The phone slipped from her hand.

Seonghun picked it up, watching her stand there blankly. He put the phone in his pocket. She didn’t even have the strength to take it.

No sound came from her mouth. Only endless tears, falling drop by drop.

He said nothing—only lifted his hand and gently wiped her tears.

His warm touch rippled through her heart.

“Wait here. I’ll tell the teacher and grab our bags.”

With a dry tone, he spoke and ran off.

Through the blazing autumn sunlight, his back looked like someone running through rain.

Maybe it was the tears in her eyes making the light blur into rainwater.

She thought she saw his back running away—but in a moment, he was already back, running even faster, two bags slung over his shoulders.

Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the bench where she had been eating ice cream earlier.

Seonghun, his eyes red, pulled out a tissue box.

Where did he even get that? He tossed it beside her and sat down.

“Use this.”

She grabbed a few tissues, blew her nose. He placed an empty plastic bag open beside her for the used ones.

Normally, she would have laughed at his usual careful, prepared nature. But today she had no strength.

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, that was all.

He didn’t say Are you okay, or Don’t cry, or Cry more if you want.

He just sat there silently, like the great zelkova tree that had stood by the bench for a hundred years.

How long did she cry? Her head was blank, and at some point the tears stopped.

Lunch break ended. The kids on the playground went back inside.

On a normal day, she too would have returned to her seat in class.

When will I ever return to my place again?

With a stuffed nose, she whispered like a thin thread:

“Dad… I miss you.”

That morning, she hadn’t even greeted him properly. She had only pestered him to buy her art supplies.

Unlike her mom, her dad had always accepted everything from her, giving love and kindness with no conditions.

She had never imagined life without him. Never imagined a day where he wasn’t by her side.

“Without Dad… how do I live?”

How do you live when all you feel is longing?

“Won’t longing someday take away all my strength to live?”

The words slipped out recklessly, heavy but real.

At that moment, Seonghun held her hand. His warmth felt desperate.

“Let’s go together, to your dad. We have to say goodbye.”

If you say you have no strength to live, then I’ll give you mine. And if you still can’t live, then I’ll die with you. Because if I die, then you’ll live.

He helped her stand. She staggered, then fell into his arms, hugging his waist tight.

Relying on him, she endured.

He held her tightly. He had always dreamed of holding her one day, but never like this.

Now, he just wanted to embrace her stronger than ever, putting aside his own selfish desires.

Lean on me. Use me.

“Huuk… huuk… huuk…”

Her sobs finally burst out.

She buried her face in his chest, crying like a child.

His hug was strong, like a great tree rooted for a hundred years. Unshakable. Unbreakable. A comfort that would never collapse.

Her mother drove her aunt’s car. Jeongyeon sat in the back seat with her aunt.

On the way to the hospital, she felt even more anxious—because Seonghun wasn’t beside her.

Her hands fidgeted restlessly. Her aunt spoke nervously.

“Why didn’t they tell us how he got hurt? It’s not too serious, right?”

She had called Director Gu again, but he had only rushed them to come quickly, then hung up.

Her chest felt tight, her voice trembled.

“He’ll… he’ll be okay. He will, for sure…”

“Are you okay?” her mom asked from the driver’s seat.

Of course she wasn’t. The fear, the anxiety, the truth she couldn’t release—it all crushed her inside.

In truth—she wanted to say: I’m scared. I’m going crazy. I’m terrified. Because Seonghun is more than a friend to me. I care for him too much.

With shaky breath, she began to confess softly:

“Mom, Aunt… I… about Seonghun…”

But she didn’t finish.

The car had already entered the hospital parking lot. Her mom spoke first.

“We’re here. They said the emergency room, right? Let’s go quickly.”