Chapter 1
It was one of those ordinary days at the music studio, amidst a steady stream of students and parents arriving for consultations, when I stepped out to open up the studio.
The hallway consulting room door was slightly ajar, and through the low murmur of the academy, a man’s voice cut sharply through the air—unmistakably, impossibly familiar.
My footsteps froze in place. I held my breath, chasing the echoes of that voice. In an instant, my heart plummeted, dropping straight through the floor.
I know that voice.
“Oh… Joonwoo.”
It was him, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The cadence I could never forget, the soft timbre, the gentle resonance…
As I stood there, utterly paralyzed, the consultation ended and the door clicked open. He stepped out into the hallway.
In a fraction of a second, our eyes locked across the empty space.
Time simply shattered.
We stood there, completely immobilized, unable to tear our gazes away from one another.
The background noise of the world faded into a distant hum.
Everything grew utterly still, until it felt as though the two of us were the only souls left breathing in the universe.
Through the overwhelming shock, I was the first to force my stiff lips to part.
“You… How are you… here…?”
“Uh… You, how are you here…?”
Neither of us could believe whether this was a dream or waking reality. That after all these years, well into our fifties, our paths should cross right here, right now…
Like scenes from a cruel film, the memories rushed back, replaying in vivid detail. That merciless moment of our parting, the one that had stolen the breath right from our lungs…
“No, I’ll go alone. Goodbye.”
I offered the briefest of farewells and turned away, even as my soul screamed out to him in silent agony.
'Joonwoo, I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay by your side until the end. My twenties, every single moment I shared with you—I don’t regret a single second. Because of you, I knew the happiest days of my life. I will never forget you. I love you… Goodbye, my love…'
I never let the words slip past my lips. If I had, if either of us had given in to the ache, we would have broken down and pulled each other back into a cage we could never escape.
Joonwoo stared at me as if the world were ending, silent tears welling in his eyes.
“Jinhee… Thank you. And because of you… I was truly happy.”
With a trembling voice, he managed to breathe out his final farewell. I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to feel the warmth of his embrace just one last time.
I knew that if I walked away now, I would regret it for the rest of my days. Meeting his gaze, I stepped forward without a word and buried myself in his arms. He caught me instantly, pulling me against him with a fierce, desperate intensity as he rested his chin on my shoulder.
'This really is the end… Your embrace, your warmth… I will never feel this again…'
Incredulous tears burned behind my eyes, but I knew that if I lingered for even a second longer, I would never find the strength to leave.
Slowly, agonizingly, I pulled myself away from his body. Swallowing back the sobs clawing at my throat, I forced out a single phrase.
“Goodbye, Joonwoo…”
With those words, I turned my back and walked straight out the door, refusing to look back.
A man forced to push away the one he loved, and a woman compelled to surrender to a brutal reality and walk away. Caught in the crushing gears of a merciless fate, we had been stripped even of the right to love each other as we tore our lives apart.
And yet, there had been a season for us—one breathtakingly blue and brilliant.
Before the scars, before the crushing weight of reality, back when the two of us at twenty believed that as long as we had each other, the world held nothing to fear.
The beginning of that heart-stopping first encounter was September 7, 1996. Exactly that day.
At American universities, the new academic year begins in early September. As a sophomore studying abroad in Boston, September had arrived, bringing my second year with it.
I had no inkling of how extraordinary that particular day would become in the story of my life.
My close friend Sumin had told me about a gathering for Korean international students at a park near campus.
Since the semester had just begun and our schedules were still mercifully light, we set off together, drinking in the warm September sunlight as we wandered deeper into the park.
A rich, savory aroma of grilling meat drifted delightfully on the autumn breeze. The sparkling expanse of the Charles River combined with the maples just beginning to blush with crimson made the park look like a page plucked from a watercolor textbook.
Some twenty Korean students had gathered in a clearing, chatting in lively groups and savoring the afternoon. The steady sizzle of meat over charcoal and the bright, carefree laughter of students wove together a distinctly intoxicating atmosphere.
Someone had even brought a cassette player, filling the air with the upbeat 90s dance tracks of the day—Solid, DJ DOC, Park Jinyoung, Kim Gunmo, Noise.
For a moment, it was easy to trick myself into believing I was back home in Korea, and the music left me pleasantly giddy.
Though I was already a sophomore, I had never attended the student gatherings, nor had I made many opportunities to mingle with other international students, leaving me with few acquaintances here. Aside from a familiar face or two from my church, most were strangers.
Finding an unoccupied spot, I settled at the end of a weathered, timeworn wooden picnic table.
Heaping plates of freshly grilled LA galbi were passed around, accompanied by kimchi, fresh lettuce, perilla leaves, ssamjang, and an assortment of homemade side dishes that someone had brought along.
Introductions began, trading names, ages, and majors. Naturally shy, I nonetheless found myself swept up in a sudden wave of warmth and anticipation at hearing the familiar cadence of Korean conversation after so long.
As I chatted with the female students seated nearby, the afternoon settled into a comfortable, easy rhythm.
And then it happened.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late! How’s everyone been? Wow, that galbi smells incredible!”
Cutting through the air with a bright, ringing voice, a young man strode into the gathering.
He wore a crisp white crew-neck tee under an unbuttoned plaid overshirt, paired with casual shorts and summer sandals. He was of medium height and build, wearing wire-rimmed glasses that gave him an intellectual air.
With his parted center-split haircut—reminiscent of the popular star Son Ji-chang at the time—he carried the clean-cut, slightly nerdy charm of a university archetype. A subtle, clean scent lingered around him, as though he had just stepped out of a shower.
He moved through the space with the natural ease of a host commanding a room. Yet beneath his sharp, intelligent exterior lay an easygoing, charismatic warmth, complete with an engaging smile that instantly drew people in.
Apparently knowing many of the students already, he flashed bright smiles and waved to people on all sides as he approached.
'He seems friendly enough, probably pretty popular…'
I muttered the thought to myself, retreating back into my own sphere and focusing entirely on the rice and meat on my disposable plate, pretending the newcomer didn’t exist.
Just as he picked up his chopsticks, he raised his head, locked eyes with me, and asked:
“Excuse me… I don’t think we’ve met. What’s your name? I’m Yoon Joonwoo. Mechanical engineering.”
That was how he first spoke to me. That was the day our paths crossed for the first time.
