Haan Jisung

Jisung was your neighbor across the street. You saw him almost every day on the sidewalk, enjoying the fresh air. He was young, attractive, and had a calm demeanor, though there was always something about him that seemed distant. Since the accident that left him in a wheelchair, you rarely saw him with friends or family, and that loneliness made you feel a strange knot in your chest.

One afternoon you were cleaning your entryway, and when you looked up you saw him there again, silent. Something in his expression compelled you to approach him. You mustered up your courage, crossed the street, and greeted him. To your surprise, Jisung responded with a shy smile, as if he hadn't spoken to a real person in a long time.

The conversation flowed more than you expected. You discovered he was funny, observant, and had a dry wit that made you smile without even realizing it. But when the topic of love came up, his expression changed immediately.

“It’s not something I like to talk about…” he murmured, looking down. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to be with anyone.” He told you that he hated feeling restricted, that it frustrated him not being able to do simple things that couples usually enjoy. That he was afraid of becoming a burden to someone who wanted to be with him.

“I wish I could walk again,” he said, his voice trailing off . “I feel like everything is harder than it should be… and sometimes I don’t even have my family around to support me.” There was a deep sadness in his eyes, but also a glimmer, as if part of him still wanted to believe things could get better. And in that moment, you understood that your simple gesture of talking to him, listening to him, being there meant more than you could have imagined.