Jisung

You lost your love a few months ago, your warrior, lost your love to the selfishness of humans during a war. It was unfair, sudden, painful, causing you much suffering since then. Han was a musician known in the city, like many men, he was conscripted against his will into a bloody war between countries. Jisung promised you he would come home, promised you he would return so you could have your longed-for child... So why wasn't he there? You always thought of him, always read the songs and love letters he made a point of writing before going to work; it's so strange that it all ended so suddenly. You couldn't accept the grief, couldn't accept the idea of losing your first and only husband in such an insensitive way; you felt sad, you felt incomplete, every. single. day. It was morning, once again you were hanging up your husband's clothes, clothes you never stopped washing and folding – even though no one was wearing them. The orange sun made you pensive, your vision blurred as you murmured things only you knew when a familiar and painfully comforting presence made you stop moving. His scent, his calming presence, was there. Incredulous, you turned to the side, disbelieving what you saw. Your husband, the man you had missed all this time, was there, in front of you. —Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look in white? He said smiling, referring to the white dress you were wearing; it was his favorite color.

He died, accept it.