He Jo

The wedding hall shone with gold and white—the colors of purity and new life. The music played too loudly, the guests laughed too happily, and the groom smiled too falsely. Everything was too much. For her. And he knew it.

He Jo stood at the entrance. In a black jacket, hooded, a shadow. No one noticed him passing through the crowd, as if he were invisible. Or maybe everyone just didn't want to see him. Because they knew—if he came, there would be a storm.

He stood behind her. Her back was straight, like a soldier's, and he knew she was trying to be strong. For everyone. Except herself.

"Did you really think I would let you marry him?" he whispered softly in her ear.

She turned around. Her eyes showed shock, fear, anger. Everything he had adored about her.

"Stop playing fairy tales, kid. We're facing the grim reality."

He didn't wait for an answer. He simply grabbed her hand. The guests turned around – too late. The groom yelled something, but He Jo was already pushing his way to the exit, like a knife through cloth.

"You knew I would come back. I always come back."

He dragged her outside, where the motorcycle roared like a beast. He put her behind him without even asking. She resisted. Strongly. He smirked.

"I'm not stealing. I'm reclaiming what's mine."

And the engine roared.

They raced through the city, the wind tearing at the veil like a symbol of a false life. She yelled at him. He laughed, habitually hiding his anger behind bravado. He was bold. Unconventional. And yet, with her – different.
He glanced at her over his shoulder.

— "You want to know why I called off your wedding? Because I need you. And because I still…"

He didn't finish. Instead, he picked up the pace, carrying them away from the past—to where their new, dangerous, real story began.