The air around me flickered like cracked glass, bending light until the world reshaped itself. My chest tightened the second I saw the scene forming in front of me.
This day... I remember it all too well.
The memory sharpened, and there I was again—back in that suffocating haze of uncertainty.
The day Han Ji-a was supposed to leave for Seoul City.
For weeks before this, I had kept my distance.
After the kidnapping incident, she hadn’t been the same—her hands trembled at sudden sounds, her eyes flinched when shadows passed too close.
I thought... no, I convinced myself that giving her space was the right thing. My silence, my absence—it was meant to protect her. At least that’s what I told myself to sleep at night.
But on this day, guilt gnawed at me. I wanted to be the one to see her off. I wanted her to know I hadn’t abandoned her, even if my cowardice had made it seem so.
I went to her apartment, rehearsing words I didn’t even know if I could say. But when I opened the door—nothing. The place was silent, emptied of her presence. Not even a note left behind.
Panic clawed through me.
I rushed to the building’s owner, grabbing her arm tighter than I should have.
"She’s already left," the old woman told me, her voice firm but pitying. "Her train’s at one o’clock. Fifteen minutes from now."
My heart stopped.
One o’clock?
But Ji-a had told me four. She promised me four.
The blood drained from my face. I don’t even remember if I thanked the woman—I just ran. My legs tore through the streets, my lungs burning like fire.
I was terrified, more than I’d ever been in my life.Terrified of losing her before I had the courage to say the words buried inside me.
Even now, as a ghost of myself, I can feel that fear hammering in my ribs. I was genuinely scared I wouldn’t make it.
But somehow—I did.
The station came into view, and there she was. Han Ji-a, suitcase in hand, about to vanish from my world.
I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. My voice tore out of me in a raw, shaking shout that silenced the crowd.
"Ji-a!"
She froze. Turned. Her eyes widened, and in that moment, every dam inside me broke.
"I love you!" The words cracked, loud enough for the whole station to hear. "I know I don’t deserve you yet, but I’ll become someone worthy—someone you can be proud of! So please... please marry me someday!"
Gasps rippled through the platform. Strangers stared like I had lost my mind. Maybe I had.
But I didn’t care. For once, I didn’t care about pride, or shame, or the world watching. All I cared about was her.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She turned away, stepping toward the train, and for a heartbeat my soul fractured.
Then—she stopped.
Her suitcase slipped slightly in her grip as she spun back around. Each step toward me echoed louder than the last until she stood so close I could see the tears shining in her eyes.
"Ye-jun..." Her voice broke. "Why now? Why wait until the very last moment to say this?"
"Because I’m a coward," I admitted, my throat tight. "Because I thought giving you space would help. Because I thought you’d be better off without me. But I was wrong. I can’t—" My breath shook. "I can’t let you walk out of my life without knowing the truth."
Her lips trembled. "Do you know how many nights I waited... wondering if you’d come?"
The words crushed me. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every second I wasn’t there. But if you give me one chance—just one—I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
Silence hung between us, charged and breaking. And then she did the one thing I never expected.
Han Ji-a leaned forward and kissed me. Not a fleeting brush this time, but soft and trembling, lingering long enough that the world around us dissolved. My heart nearly tore itself apart trying to keep up.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against mine. Her breath was shaky but warm against my skin.
"You idiot," she whispered. "That was my first kiss too."
I laughed—hoarse, broken, but real. "Then we’ll just have to practice... together."
Her eyes softened, and then a playful curve tugged at her lips. She leaned close to my ear, her whisper threading with laughter.
"Don’t you dare tell your mother. She’ll make a scene."
She chuckled again, but this time her voice dipped low, teasing.
"I guess that makes me your fiancée now."
The word fiancée clung to me like fire and balm all at once. My chest swelled until I thought it might burst.
The train horn blared. She stepped back reluctantly, fingers slipping from mine. Her smile was radiant and wet with tears.
"Wait for me, Ye-jun. I’ll wait for you too."
And then the doors closed.
Just like that—she was gone.
I stood frozen, heart pounding, soul burning with a new kind of fire. That was the last memory I carried before the world dragged me forward again—into the military, into the grind of adulthood, into everything that would shape me into the man I became.
The memory shattered like a mirror struck by stone. Shards of the past fell away, and I was back.
Back on the train.
My hands trembled. The hoodie-clad junior still sat across from me, Roger the owl perched calmly beside him as if nothing had happened.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly, my chest hollow.
"...Why am I reliving all of this now?"
The answer lingered, silent but heavy. This train—it wasn’t just carrying me through space. It was dragging me through myself, forcing me to walk the railways of memory.
If so, then maybe it wasn’t coincidence. Maybe it was pointing me somewhere.
I closed my eyes and whispered, as if testing the weight of the thought.
"Han Ji-a..."
My feet moved on their own as the train slowed. I knew where I had to go. I still remembered the address where she once lived.
And so I started down the path again—toward her.