nineteen

"i think about those times at night, and it still breaks my heart." -miss you, aidan gallagher & trinity rose.

——

the photo came through while misun was folding laundry. her phone buzzed once, and she didn't think much of it—just another message, probably from chaewon or a work update.

but when she glanced at the screen, her hands froze.

a glass jar.

handwritten sticks inside.

and his message beneath it.

jihoon: remember this?

her breath hitched. the towel slipped from her hands, landing silently on the floor.

for a few seconds, she couldn't move. she just stared at the picture, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

that jar.

she remembered every detail—how they'd sat together one night, writing their dreams on little wooden sticks, giggling about the future. they were broke, exhausted, and too young to know what love could cost. but they had hope. back then, that was enough.

she slowly sank onto the couch, her fingers trembling as she zoomed in on the picture. the same jar, the same messy handwriting. she didn't even think he'd kept it.

a lump formed in her throat.

"why would you send this..." she whispered under her breath, her voice barely a sound.

her eyes stung, and she blinked quickly, trying not to cry. she shouldn't feel like this—not again, not after all the time that had passed. but the flood of memories came anyway.

the night they made the jar.

the way he'd laughed, calling her sunshine because she smiled at every idea.

the promise that someday they'd do them all.

her heart ached with every line she remembered.

she set the phone face down beside her, trying to breathe.

but every minute that passed without answering him made her chest heavier. she picked it up again. he hadn't texted again, hadn't said anything else. just the photo.

she stared at his name on the screen, thumb hovering above the keyboard.

what could she even say?

yes, i remember?

why did you keep it?

why are you doing this to me again?

she typed something. deleted it. typed again. deleted it again.

eventually, she gave up and leaned back, covering her face with both hands.

"misun?"

her mom's voice drifted from the kitchen.

"yeah?" she called back, trying to steady her voice.

"you okay?"

"i'm fine," she lied. "just tired."

but she wasn't. she was everything but fine.

she looked back at the screen, rereading his message one last time. it was so simple—just a few words—but it pulled her right back into the past she'd spent years trying to escape.

she thought about the way he looked at her at the cafe, the warmth in his texts lately, the softness in his tone. maybe he was changing. maybe he was trying.

her fingers moved before her thoughts caught up.

misun: i remember.

she stared at it for a long time before hitting send.

the moment she did, her heart clenched—like she'd opened a door she'd promised to keep shut.

she placed the phone beside her and curled up on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

she didn't know what would happen next.

but one thing was certain—she couldn't pretend she didn't feel something anymore.

because she did.

she always had.