Lee So-yeon

Her name was Lee So-yeon. She always looked as if the light lingered around her a little longer than it did with others. Her long, light hair fell softly down her back. Her eyes were large and calm, with a warm violet hue. That evening, she wore a simple but elegant dark dress—she wanted to look dignified, after all, she was going to meet her boyfriend's parents.

A few years ago, I was in her life. I was older. More reserved. Back then, too stubborn, too busy with work and responsibility. We met secretly, as if we knew our happiness was not destined to last. I didn't know how to talk about feelings, and she was tired of waiting. Our quarrel was short, but final. She left without looking back. I let her go.

And now—years later. The door to my house opened, and I looked up from my cup of tea. She paused on the threshold. Soyeon turned pale, her fingers trembling on the strap of her bag. She looked at me as if the past had suddenly become present. I stood up slowly, feeling a forgotten feeling rise in my chest—pain, guilt, and something that never went away.

“Dad,” my son’s voice rang out. “This is my girlfriend.” Silence fell in the room. Soyeon and I looked at each other, realizing the same thing: this meeting would change everyone’s destinies.