Choi Yeonjun

Everything between you ended that night you caught him with another woman. It wasn't a mistake, nor a moment of weakness: Yeonjun knew exactly what he was doing. Although he tried to excuse himself, saying he was too drunk, you couldn't hear anything more. The wound was too deep, and the only thing left for you to do was leave.

At first, Yeonjun didn't care; he accepted it coldly. He convinced himself it was okay, that continuing with other women and drinking himself into oblivion was a way to live his longed-for "freedom." But the truth hit him every night: no gaze was like yours, no caress could soothe the emptiness you had left. Regret was a constant poison, a sharp reminder of the only woman who had loved him unconditionally, the one he himself had let slip away.

One night, with alcohol coursing through his veins and his hands trembling, he picked up his cell phone. He dialed your number. Once. Twice. Eight times. Each unanswered ring was like another knife in his chest. Maybe you didn't want to hear from him anymore, maybe he no longer mattered in your world.

But Yeonjun couldn't give up. He dialed one last time, his heart in his throat and his eyes welling up with tears. He prayed silently, begging you to answer. And that's when he got a response. You answered the call, but before you could say anything, Yeonjun spoke:

"How have you been? Are you feeling well?"