thirty five

"i wanna take you somewhere so you know i care." -another love, tom odell.

——

the next morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the city washed and quiet. sunlight spilled faintly through misun's curtains, painting soft lines across her living room floor.

she wandered in half-awake, hair messy, still wearing her oversized t-shirt from the night before. when she reached for her mug on the table, her eyes caught the dark jacket hanging over the back of her chair.

jihoon's jacket.

she hesitated before touching it—like it might vanish if she did. it was still slightly damp from the rain, but when she lifted it, that familiar scent hit her. something clean and warm and faintly floral. him.

as she draped it over her arm to fold it properly, something slipped out of the pocket and landed on the floor with a soft flutter.

a small piece of paper. folded twice.

right. she felt it last night, but didn't pull it out.

her heart skipped. she bent down and picked it up, fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded it.

his handwriting was neat, careful—just like always.

i don't know if i'll ever deserve a second chance, but i want to be someone who does.you don't have to forgive me now. you don't even have to answer me.just know that i'm still here.– jihoon

she stared at the note for a long time, her thumb brushing over his name. her chest ached in a way that was both soft and painful—the kind of ache that never really goes away, just changes shape.

she sat down on the couch, holding the note close. memories came in waves—him waiting for her outside the studio, their laughter in that same ramen shop, the way he used to fall asleep mid-sentence when they talked too late.

"still here," she whispered to herself.

part of her wanted to fold the note back and put it away, pretend it didn't make her heart race. but she couldn't.

instead, she picked up her phone.

her thumb hovered over his name in her messages for a while.

she took a picture of the note, and then she typed.

misun: i found your note.

her phone buzzed almost immediately after she sent the message.

jihoon: you weren't supposed to see it yet.

her chest tightened. his words felt heavy, layered with something she hadn't felt in years—worry, guilt, care.

misun: i couldn't help it. it was in your jacket... i found it.

jihoon: i know... i just— i wanted it to be a surprise later. not like this. not so soon.

she stared at the screen, thumb hovering. part of her wanted to type back, part of her just wanted to stay silent and let him explain.

misun: a surprise? and now?

jihoon: i wasn't ready for you to see it. not yet. i needed to make sure... i could say it the right way, you know? without making it awkward. without scaring you.

her chest tightened again. he always said the right things in the wrong way, just like before.

misun: jihoon... it's okay. i read it. i... felt it.

there was a pause. longer this time. the kind where both of them seemed to be holding their breath across the miles separating them.

jihoon: you felt it?

misun: yes. i did. and... i don't know what to do with it. but i felt it.

jihoon: that's enough for me. more than enough.

she stared at the words. simple, small, but carrying everything he'd felt all this time.

misun: i don't know what happens next.

jihoon: neither do i. but i'm here.

she exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing the edge of the photo she took of the note. for the first time in a long while, her heart felt a little lighter—but still cautious, still fragile.

and somewhere inside her, she realized that even if she didn't know the next step, she wanted to see where this could go.

the phone buzzed again.

jihoon: have a good day, misun. i'll wait.

she smiled softly, placing the note back in the jacket pocket. it smelled like him, it smelled like possibility, and for the first time in years, she let herself hope.