•Summary: After a devastating accident, you wake up with no memory of the last few years of your life—including your husband, Jeong Yunho. While he remembers every little detail about you, to you he’s just a stranger. But as he patiently stays by your side, helping you rediscover your life piece by piece, your heart begins to fall for him all over again… even if your memories never return.
•Genre: Angst, Romance, Slow burn, Fluff
•Warnings: None
•Word count: 10.7k
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sound. A slow, steady beeping filled the quiet room, rhythmic and mechanical, echoing in the back of my head like a distant metronome. My body felt heavy, as if I were sinking into the mattress beneath me. Even lifting my fingers felt like too much effort. The sharp scent of antiseptic hung in the air, making my stomach twist with unease.
My eyelids fluttered open slowly, and the bright white lights above me stung my eyes. Everything felt blurry, as though I were underwater trying to see through rippling glass. Then, a voice cut through the haze—soft, hopeful, and strangely terrified. I turned my head toward it, wincing as a dull ache spread across my skull. Shapes gradually came into focus: machines, pale walls, and a chair pulled close beside the bed. And a man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, leaning forward like he’d been sitting there for hours. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his eyes—wide and shining—locked onto me with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Relief washed over his face the moment he saw my eyes open. “You’re awake,” he breathed. The raw emotion in his voice was overwhelming, like he had been holding his breath for days.
I blinked at him slowly, trying to place the strange stir of familiarity in my chest. He looked… familiar, but not in a way I could put into words. My heart seemed to know him even if my mind didn’t. He stood quickly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Wait—don’t move,” he said gently. “The doctor said you might be disoriented.” His voice was steady, warm, but there was a trembling underneath it I could sense.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “What… happened?” I asked.
“You were in an accident,” he said quietly. “A car accident. But you’re okay now. The doctors said you’re going to recover.” The word “accident” echoed in my head. Pieces of nothing filled my mind—blank spaces where memories should have been. I noticed the bandage wrapped around my arm and the IV in my hand, and my unease grew.
The man kept his gaze on me, careful and intense, like he was afraid I might vanish if he looked away. “You scared us,” he said softly. Us. My stomach twisted. I studied him more closely now: his soft features, his kind eyes, the faint lines of worry etched into his face. Something deep inside me should have clicked. Instead, I drew a blank. “…Do I know you?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a moment, he froze. The room felt suddenly silent, the machines beeping a little louder in the stillness. His expression shifted slowly to confusion, disbelief, and then something painfully close to heartbreak. “You…” he began, his voice trembling. My chest tightened as dread seeped into me. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I just—my head feels weird, and I can’t—”
The door burst open, and my mother rushed in, followed by a doctor. “(Y/N)!” she gasped, hurrying to my side. Relief softened her features as she gently took my hand. “Oh, thank goodness you’re awake. How are you feeling?” “Confused,” I admitted, my voice small. The doctor stepped closer, shining a small light into my eyes. “That’s normal,” he said. “You experienced a head injury. Some disorientation is expected.”
I looked back at the tall man. He hadn’t moved, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles pale. He stared at me like he was trying to memorize my face all over again. I looked between him and my mother. “…Who is he?” My mother hesitated. Just for a second, but it felt like an eternity. Then she glanced at him with sympathy before looking back at me. “(Y/N),” she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “that’s your husband.”
The word hit me like a shockwave. Husband. My heart skipped, and my eyes widened as I looked at him. The man I was supposed to know, the one who loved me, smiled softly. But it wasn’t a happy smile. It was fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. “Hi,” he said quietly. Then, almost as if to anchor himself in the moment, he added, “I’m Jeong Yunho.”
And somehow… the way he said my name earlier echoed in my chest, tugging at something I couldn’t name. Like it had once meant everything. But now—now, I didn’t remember him at all.
The next morning, I woke to the faint smell of coffee and toast drifting through the room. Sunlight spilled across the hospital bed, warm and golden, but the familiar comfort it should have brought was absent. My body still ached, every movement reminding me of the accident, but it was the man in the corner of the room who made my chest tighten. Yunho. My husband. Someone I was supposed to know… but didn’t.
He smiled at me as I stirred. “Good morning,” he said softly. There was an awkward hesitation in his tone, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak, or maybe if I’d remember who he was. I wanted to ask him why he looked so familiar, but my tongue felt thick, my mind foggy.
“I… good morning,” I answered cautiously.
He stepped closer, carefully placing a small tray on the bedside table. There was coffee. And toast cut into neat triangles. The little details—the way he had arranged the plate, the way he poured the coffee just the way I liked it—made something inside me twist. Something that felt like warmth, like recognition without memory.
“I know this might feel strange,” Yunho said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I… I’m going to take it slow. I won’t rush you to remember anything. I just… I want to be here.”
His voice had a softness to it that made my chest ache. There was an intensity too, an unspoken emotion that lingered beneath his words. Even though I didn’t remember him, I felt the pull. My body wanted to trust him, to lean into him, even as my mind screamed that he was a stranger.
We spent hours talking that afternoon, though it barely felt like time had passed at all. Yunho had a way of making the room feel warmer, like the sun had found a permanent spot beside us. He told me things about myself—small, intimate details I didn’t remember but that somehow made me feel known.
“There’s this cute little scrunch thing that you do with your nose when someone irritates you,” he said softly, his lips quirking into a fond smile. I froze for a second, realizing he was right—I had done that since I was little, a quirk I hadn’t thought anyone ever noticed.
“And that one time when you cried from reading a romance novel,” he added, voice soft and loving, a little teasing under his tone. I couldn’t help but smile, the memory absent but the feeling of it blooming faintly in my chest.
He talked about the little things he loved about me, the ones no one else would notice. How I would hum softly while cooking, how I always ran my fingers along the edge of a book before opening it, how I had a thing for tiny, delicate flowers. Each word he spoke was like a thread, weaving me back into the picture of who I was before—and slowly into the man sitting beside me.
And the way he smiled as he talked, eyes shining with love and reverence, made my heart melt in a way I hadn’t expected. Even though I couldn’t remember him, he remembered everything about me—the quirks, the habits, the little things that made me, me. And somehow, that made me start to feel something new. Something like… falling for him all over again.
I wanted to reach out, to grab his hand, to anchor myself to the warmth and certainty in his gaze. And when I finally did, hesitantly, he held it gently, as if he’d been waiting for that moment his entire life. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. I didn’t remember why, but my chest tightened, and my heart responded, answering him even before my mind could catch up. For a moment neither of us spoke. His hand was warm around mine, larger, steady, careful like he was afraid I might pull away at any second. But I didn’t. Instead, I found myself holding on just a little tighter.
Something about him felt right.
Not familiar exactly—because my mind still held nothing when I searched for memories of him—but safe. Comforting. Like a place my heart recognized even if my thoughts didn’t. Yunho seemed to notice the way my fingers curled around his because his breath caught slightly. His eyes flickered down to our hands, then back to my face, almost as if he was afraid this small moment might disappear if he acknowledged it too much.
“You used to do that,” he said softly. I tilted my head slightly. “Do what?”
“Hold my hand like that,” he replied with a small smile. “Whenever you were nervous… or when you were thinking too hard about something.” My cheeks warmed faintly. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. “I guess some things don’t change,” I murmured.
His smile grew a little, but there was still a quiet sadness behind it. Like he was happy for the moment, but grieving everything I couldn’t remember. “I’m glad,” he said quietly. Silence settled between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Outside the window, the late afternoon sun painted the hospital room in soft golden light. I watched the way it caught in his hair, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly now that we were talking. “You must be really patient,” I said after a moment.
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because if my wife didn’t remember me…” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I think I’d be a lot more frustrated than you are.” A quiet laugh escaped him. It was warm and soft, the kind of laugh that made my chest flutter for no reason I could explain. “Oh, trust me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m definitely frustrated.”
My eyes widened slightly.
“But not at you,” he added quickly. “Never at you.” The seriousness in his voice made my heart skip. “I’m just…” He exhaled slowly, searching for the right words. “I miss you.”
The words settled heavily in the quiet room.
I miss you.
For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. The way he said it wasn’t dramatic or desperate. It was soft, honest—like he had been holding those words inside for days and they had finally slipped out. My chest tightened as I watched him, trying to understand the depth of the emotion behind his eyes. I studied his face more carefully now. The faint dark circles under his eyes. The way his shoulders slumped slightly, like exhaustion had finally caught up to him. It looked like he hadn’t been sleeping much. Had he really been here the whole time? Sitting beside me, waiting for me to wake up?
“I’m still here,” I said quietly.
The moment the words left my mouth, something flickered across his expression—hope, relief, and something painful all tangled together. He looked at me like the simple statement meant more than I could understand. “I know,” Yunho murmured gently, but the way he said it made it clear he didn’t mean the same thing I did. I was here physically, sitting in front of him, holding his hand. But the version of me he loved—the one who shared memories with him, inside jokes, quiet nights, and whispered promises—that version of me was gone. At least for now.
His thumb brushed lightly over the back of my hand, a slow, absentminded motion that felt strangely natural. Like it was something he had done a thousand times before. The small touch sent a quiet warmth through me, and for a moment I forgot that I didn’t remember him at all. “Can I tell you something?” he asked softly after a moment.
I nodded.
“You used to hate hospitals,” he said with a small smile. “The smell, the lights… everything. You said they felt too cold.” I wrinkled my nose instinctively. “They do smell weird,” I admitted.
His smile widened just a little, and something warm spread through my chest seeing it. It felt good making him smile, even if I didn’t know why. “You also used to make me promise something,” he continued. “What was that?” His eyes softened as he looked at me, and for a second it felt like the entire room went quiet.
“That if anything ever happened to you… I’d stay.”
My stomach twisted at his words. I could hear the meaning behind them, the weight of that promise.
“And did you?” I asked quietly.
Yunho squeezed my hand gently, his grip warm and steady.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Something about the way he said it made my throat tighten. Even without my memories, I could tell one thing with absolute certainty—he meant it.
“I guess so,” I said quietly, my fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the ring on his finger. For a moment, Yunho just watched my hand, the small movement making something soft flicker across his face. Then he seemed to make up his mind about something.
“Can I show you something?” he asked, his voice suddenly a little nervous as he fidgeted in his pocket.
I looked up at him and nodded. “Of course.”
He took a slow breath before pulling something out of his pocket. Resting in his palm was a beautiful ring with a small diamond. It wasn’t flashy or extravagant—just simple and elegant in a way that immediately caught my attention.
He held it out quietly in the center of his palm, letting me see it.
“Can I hold it?” I asked cautiously, half preparing myself for him to say no.
“Definitely,” he said without hesitation.
I carefully took the ring from his hand and turned it between my fingers, studying the way the diamond caught the soft light spilling through the window. It was delicate, almost understated, but there was something incredibly beautiful about it. “This is beautiful,” I murmured.
Yunho smiled softly, watching me examine it.
“There’s actually a story behind that ring,” he said.
I glanced up from it, curiosity flickering in my chest. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Before I started my career, this is all I could really afford,” he explained. “So of course I was nervous when I proposed to you because it was a small diamond.” His voice held a quiet vulnerability as he spoke, like the memory still made his heart race even now. “But to my surprise,” he continued with a gentle laugh, “you loved it so much that you guarded it with your life.”
I looked down at the ring again, a small smile forming on my lips as I imagined it. “That’s when I knew you were the one,” he finished softly. Something warm spread through my chest at his words. Even though I couldn’t remember that moment, I could almost picture it through the way he described it.
I turned the ring slowly between my fingers before looking back at him.
“Can I try it?” I asked.
For a second, Yunho froze. His heart visibly swelled in his chest, the question clearly catching him off guard.
Then he gently took the ring from my fingers.
“Of course,” he murmured.
Carefully, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
I lifted my hand slightly, watching the diamond shimmer as the golden rays of the sun streamed through the window. The light caught the stone, making it sparkle softly.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I stared at the ring resting on my finger, my heart beating a little faster for reasons I couldn’t explain. The ring felt warm around my finger, the metal resting against my skin like it had always belonged there. I turned my hand slightly, watching the small diamond catch the sunlight, but my attention kept drifting somewhere else.
My palms were suddenly sweaty.
I wasn’t sure why.
A strange nervousness settled in my chest, the kind that made my heartbeat pick up just a little faster. It didn’t make sense. All I was doing was sitting here, looking at a ring.
Yet every time my eyes drifted toward Yunho, butterflies stirred in my stomach.
I glanced up at him again without meaning to.
He was watching me carefully, his expression soft and patient, like he was trying to read every tiny reaction on my face. The moment our eyes met, my heart skipped in my chest and I quickly looked back down at my hand.
Why was I so nervous around him?
It wasn’t fear. I knew that much. If anything, it was the complete opposite.
Being near him made me feel warm, safe… and strangely aware of everything. The quiet room. The sunlight on the floor. The gentle way he stood beside the bed like he didn’t want to crowd me but also didn’t want to be too far away.
And every time I even remotely looked at him, the butterflies in my stomach only grew stronger.
A few days later, the doctor finally said the words I had been waiting for.
“You’re well enough to leave.”
The hospital room that had once felt suffocating suddenly seemed lighter. Part of me felt relieved to finally get out of the sterile space, but another part of me felt nervous. Leaving meant returning to a life I didn’t remember.
Yunho stood beside the bed while I gathered the few things I had brought with me. He stayed close, like he always did, but not so close that it felt overwhelming. I had started noticing that about him—the way he gave me space while still making sure I knew he was there.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
I looked up at him, my fingers instinctively brushing the ring resting on my finger. The small diamond caught the light, sending a tiny shimmer across the room.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah… I think so.”
The ride was quiet.
Not awkward, just thoughtful. I spent most of the time staring out the window as the city passed by in a blur of buildings and streetlights. Every now and then I found myself glancing over at Yunho in the driver’s seat. His hands rested comfortably on the steering wheel, his focus steady on the road ahead.
He looked used to this.
Like he had driven this route countless times before.
Eventually the car slowed and pulled into a parking spot in front of a tall apartment building. Yunho turned off the engine but didn’t move right away.
“We’re here,” he said gently.
My stomach fluttered.
“This is…?”
“Our place,” he finished quietly.
For a moment, I just stared at the building. The word *our* echoed softly in my mind.
Our home.
I followed him inside, my steps slow as we walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. Yunho pulled a key from his pocket, but before unlocking it, he paused.
“You don’t have to rush anything,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave anytime.”
His words made my chest tighten.
“Okay,” I whispered.
The door opened with a soft click.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside was the warmth. The apartment didn’t feel cold or unfamiliar the way I had expected. Instead, it felt lived in—comfortable in a way that immediately made my shoulders relax.
Then my eyes drifted to the wall.
Photos.
My breath caught.
Dozens of pictures filled the space, scattered across the wall in mismatched frames. I slowly stepped closer, my heart beating faster as I looked at them.
Every photo was of Yunho and me.
Some were silly, the two of us making ridiculous faces at the camera. Others were softer moments—sitting close together at a restaurant, wrapped up in blankets on the couch, standing under city lights somewhere at night.
In every single picture, we looked happy.
Really happy.
I moved closer, studying one picture where Yunho had his arm around my shoulders while I leaned into him, laughing at something outside the frame.
In another, I was wearing one of his oversized hoodies, my hair messy while he kissed the side of my head.
I didn’t remember any of it.
But the way we looked at each other…
That was real.
“You put those up,” Yunho said quietly behind me.
I turned slightly, surprised. “I did?”
He nodded, a small smile forming on his face.
“You said it made the apartment feel more like home.”
My fingers hovered near one of the frames but stopped just short of touching it. I stared at the girl in the photo—the version of me who looked so comfortable standing beside him.
“She looks really happy,” I murmured.
Yunho’s voice softened behind me. “She was.”
Something in my chest twisted gently. I looked at the photos again before turning back to him.
“You must really love her,” I said quietly.
For a moment, Yunho didn’t answer. Then he stepped a little closer.
“I do,” he said softly.
His eyes met mine, warm and steady.
“And I still do.” I smiled softly.
The room grew quiet as I continued staring at the photos on the wall. Each one showed a moment of a life I couldn’t remember, yet somehow it still felt like it belonged to me. My eyes moved slowly from frame to frame, taking in every detail.
“Is it okay if I look around?” I asked softly.
Yunho nodded immediately. “Of course.”
I moved carefully through the apartment, taking small steps as if I were exploring somewhere sacred. The space felt warm and lived in, like it had been filled with laughter and quiet moments for a long time. Eventually, I stopped in front of a partially open door.
Curiosity pulled me forward.
I gently pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room was simple but cozy. A large bed sat in the center, soft blankets folded neatly across it. A television was mounted on the wall, and more photos of Yunho and me were scattered around the room in small frames.
My chest tightened slightly.
This room felt… more personal.
I noticed the dresser against the wall and walked over to it. Several perfume bottles sat neatly on top, their glass catching the soft light from the window. Next to them were small pieces of jewelry and hair ties.
Then my eyes drifted to the closets.
One side held women’s clothes—dresses, sweaters, and shirts hanging neatly. The other held men’s clothing.
My stomach fluttered as the realization settled in.
“Is this…?” I started quietly.
“Our room,” Yunho finished from behind me.
His voice was gentle, almost careful.
I turned back toward the dresser, studying the perfume bottles again. Each one looked familiar in a strange way, like something I should recognize but couldn’t quite reach in my mind.
“This one is your favorite,” Yunho said softly.
He stepped forward and picked up one of the bottles before holding it out to me.
I took it carefully from his hand and brought it closer, spraying a small amount onto my wrist before smelling it.
The scent was soft and floral, warm in a way that immediately made me relax.
“It smells pretty,” I said quietly.
For a moment, Yunho didn’t respond.
When I looked up, he was watching me again with that same soft expression—like every small reaction I had meant more to him than he could say.
“You used to wear it almost every day,” he said gently. “Especially when we went out together.” I looked down at the bottle again, rubbing my wrist lightly where the scent lingered. Even though I couldn’t remember those moments… the smell felt strangely comforting.
And standing there in the room we once shared, surrounded by pieces of the life we had built together, I felt something inside me shift.
“Are you okay?” Yunho asked softly, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
I blinked and looked up at him, realizing I had been staring at the dresser for longer than I meant to. I quickly nodded. “I’m fine.” Right as the words left my mouth, my stomach growled loudly, completely betraying me.
Yunho’s lips curved into a small smile.
“Someone’s hungry,” he said, his voice carrying a light teasing tone. Heat rushed to my face and I let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay… maybe a little.” He chuckled softly, the sound warm and relaxed. “We can go out to eat,” he offered. “Or I can cook for you.”
I fidgeted with my hands for a moment, thinking about it. The idea of sitting in a crowded restaurant suddenly felt overwhelming. But cooking… that felt different.
“I think we should cook together,” I suggested slowly. “I think that would be fun.”
Yunho hummed thoughtfully, considering it. His eyes softened slightly as he watched me, like he was quietly happy that I was starting to feel comfortable here again.
“Alright,” he said with a small nod. “What do you want to make?”
“Tteokbokki,” I said almost immediately, my mouth watering just thinking about it.
A hint of amusement crossed his face.
“Then let’s drive to the store and grab the ingredients.”
I shook my head lightly. “Why drive when we can walk?” I said, glancing toward the window. “I need the fresh air.”
For a moment Yunho just looked at me.
His chest felt strangely full watching me move around the apartment so naturally, suggesting things like we had done it a hundred times before. Even without your memories, pieces of the old you were still there.
“Yeah,” he said softly, grabbing his jacket. “A walk sounds nice.”
And as the two of us headed toward the door together, Yunho couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. For the first time since the accident, it almost felt normal again.
We walked down to the lobby of the apartment building together and stepped out through the glass doors. The evening air was cool and fresh, a gentle breeze brushing past my face. After spending so many days inside the hospital, the simple feeling of being outside felt almost refreshing.
As we started down the sidewalk, Yunho glanced over at me before slowly offering his hand.
I hesitated for a second.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take it. If anything, the thought made my heart beat a little faster. But holding hands felt… intimate, and part of me wondered if I had the right to do that when I still couldn’t remember our life together.
Still, something inside me pushed past the hesitation. I slipped my hand into his and intertwined our fingers. Yunho immediately stiffened slightly beside me.
When I looked over, his ears had turned bright red.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, almost awkwardly.
I blinked at him. “Sorry for what?”
“For—” he glanced down at our hands before rubbing the back of his neck with his free one. “I just didn’t expect you to…”
“Don’t be,” I said gently.
Butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach as a rush of unfamiliar yet strangely comforting feelings washed over me. The warmth of his hand around mine felt natural—like something I had done countless times before.
The feeling was confusing but comforting all at once.
It almost felt like a first date.
Even though deep down, I knew it wasn’t.
We continued walking down the street, the city slowly coming alive around us with the glow of evening lights. As we passed a small flower stand on the corner, Yunho suddenly stopped.
“Wait here for a second,” he said.
Before I could ask why, he stepped over to the stand and quietly spoke with the vendor. A moment later, he paid and walked back toward me holding a single flower.
He handed it to me.
My eyes widened slightly when I saw what it was.
It was my favorite flower.
A soft smile spread across my face as I took it from him.
“You remembered,” I said quietly.
“Of course I did,” Yunho replied with a small smile.
We continued walking after that, and the small flower felt warm in my hand as I held it carefully. A few minutes later, something caught my eye across the sidewalk.
A photo booth.
Without thinking, I grabbed Yunho’s arm and gently pulled him toward it.
“Wait,” I said excitedly. “I think we should take photos together.”
He looked surprised but followed anyway. “Photos?”
“To remember this day,” I explained with a small smile.
Inside the booth, we sat close together on the small bench. The camera light blinked, signaling the countdown.
For the first picture, we both smiled awkwardly. The second one, Yunho made a goofy face that made me laugh. The third picture, we leaned closer together, our shoulders brushing as we tried to fit into the frame.
Then the final flash went off.
Without really thinking, I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Yunho’s cheek.
The camera flashed.
When I pulled back, Yunho looked completely shocked.
His eyes were wide, and his face had turned red all over again. My own hand quickly flew up to cover my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I think I got carried away.”
For a moment he just stared at me.
Then his expression softened.
“No,” he said gently. “Don’t be sorry.”
He hesitated for a second before leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against my cheek.
“It just caught me off guard,” he added with a shy smile.
He helped me out of the photo booth, gently holding the curtain aside so I wouldn’t trip on the small step. The strip of photos slid out of the machine a moment later, still warm from printing. I carefully tucked them into my pocket, feeling a strange sense of happiness knowing we had captured that moment together.
We continued walking until we reached the small grocery store down the street.
Inside, the warm lights and quiet chatter of other shoppers made the place feel cozy. Yunho grabbed a small basket and started walking through the aisles while I followed beside him.
He moved with an easy familiarity, stopping here and there to grab ingredients for the tteokbokki. Rice cakes. Fish cakes. Gochujang. Each time he picked something up, he would pause to read the label carefully before placing it into the basket.
I found myself watching him more than the shelves.
There was a little crease between his eyebrows as he focused, and he did this cute squinting thing whenever he was trying to read something closely.
It was subtle, but once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop looking.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him.
Is this how he feels when I scrunch my nose while irritated?
The thought made a small smile tug at my lips.
He suddenly glanced up and caught me staring.
“What?” he asked, a little amused.
I quickly looked away, pretending to study a nearby shelf. “Nothing.” But the smile on my face didn’t disappear.
Yunho watched me for a second longer before chuckling softly and returning to reading the package in his hand, completely unaware that the little things he did like that tiny squint were slowly making my heart feel warmer every minute we spent together.
Before we left the store, the soft patter of rain began tapping against the windows. I glanced outside and saw the sky had darkened, droplets quickly turning into a steady drizzle.
“Oh,” I murmured.
Yunho followed my gaze and chuckled softly. “Looks like we’re not walking back dry.”
Before we headed out, he grabbed a simple tan umbrella from a small rack near the register and paid for it. As soon as we stepped outside, he quickly opened it above us, the soft whoosh of the fabric spreading overhead. The rain fell steadily around us, tapping gently against the umbrella.
We walked close together down the sidewalk, Yunho holding the grocery bag in one hand while the other held the umbrella above us. The space underneath was small, so our shoulders brushed occasionally as we walked.
Each time it happened, my heart fluttered a little.
The cool air smelled fresh after the rain, and the quiet sound of our footsteps mixed with the soft rhythm of water hitting the pavement. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. By the time we reached the apartment building, the rain had picked up slightly. We hurried inside, shaking off the water as we stepped into the warm lobby. Once we got upstairs and into the apartment, we both slipped off our jackets and hung them by the door.
I ran my fingers through my slightly damp hair while Yunho carried the grocery bag into the kitchen.
He set it down on the counter and began pulling out the ingredients one by one, lining them up neatly.
The rice cakes. The sauce. The fish cakes.
Watching him move around the kitchen so comfortably made something warm settle in my chest again. It felt natural like this was something we had done together many times before.
I leaned lightly against the counter, watching him as he worked.
“Chef Yunho,” I teased softly. “What’s my job?” He glanced up at me with a small smile, clearly amused.
“Your job?” he repeated thoughtfully. Then he grabbed a cutting board and gently slid it toward me across the counter. “You can start by cutting these,” he said, handing me a package of fish cakes. He paused for a moment before adding with a playful grin, “Let’s see if you still remember how.”
I picked up the knife slowly, turning it in my hand as I looked down at the cutting board. For a moment, doubt crept into my mind. What if I didn’t remember how to do something as simple as this?
Yunho must have noticed the hesitation because his voice softened. “Hey… there’s no pressure. We can figure it out together.” I nodded and carefully unwrapped the fish cakes. My fingers moved slowly at first, lining them up neatly on the board. Then I began cutting them into strips.
After the first few slices, something shifted.
My hands started moving more naturally, the knife gliding through the soft texture like my body already knew what to do. Yunho leaned lightly against the counter across from me, watching quietly.
A small smile spread across his face.
“You used to do it exactly like that,” he said softly.
I paused and looked up at him. “Really?” He nodded. “You always cut them into long pieces because you said they tasted better that way.”
I glanced back down at the cutting board, surprised. “I don’t remember deciding that.”
“You might not remember,” he said gently, “but some things stay.” His words settled warmly in my chest.
Soon the kitchen filled with the soft sounds of cooking. Yunho moved beside me, heating the pan while I finished preparing the ingredients. When he mixed the sauce, the smell of garlic and spicy gochujang slowly filled the apartment.
My stomach growled again.
“That smells amazing,” I said with a small laugh.
Yunho chuckled quietly. “You say that every time.”
I leaned against the counter beside him, watching as he added the rice cakes and fish cakes into the bubbling red sauce. The mixture began to simmer, thick and glossy, filling the whole kitchen with warmth.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the gentle bubbling from the pan.
Then Yunho reached up to a cabinet and grabbed two bowls. As he set them down on the counter, his elbow accidentally brushed a small jar sitting near the edge.
The jar tipped.
Before either of us could react, it fell to the floor with a loud crack.
I flinched slightly as glass scattered across the tile.
“I’m so sorry,” Yunho said quickly, crouching down. “I didn’t see it there.”
But as I stared at the broken pieces on the floor, something strange happened.
A sudden flash crossed my mind.
A kitchen.
The same counter.
Yunho laughing while flour covered his hands.
And me—standing right here beside him.
The memory disappeared as quickly as it came. My breath caught, and I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“(Y/N)?” Yunho’s voice was instantly worried as he stood up. “What’s wrong?”
My heart was racing.
“I… I think I just remembered something.”
Yunho helped me over to the couch, guiding me carefully as I sat down. My head still felt a little light from the sudden rush of memories, but the warmth of his hand around mine kept me grounded.
He knelt slightly in front of me, his eyes searching my face with quiet concern.
“Do you know what you remembered?” he asked softly.
I nodded slowly, trying to piece the moment together. “We were laughing in the kitchen,” I said. “You had flour all over your hands… and then everything got fuzzy.”
For a moment Yunho just stared at me.
Then recognition lit up his face. “The cookie competition,” he said.
I blinked in confusion. “A cookie competition?”
He nodded, a small laugh escaping him as the memory clearly replayed in his mind. “You entered us in one at a local festival. I had no idea what I was doing, but you were determined we were going to win.”
I smiled faintly, trying to imagine it.
“We were making the dough,” he continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. “I kept throwing flour on the counter so it wouldn’t stick. At one point I accidentally touched my face with flour-covered hands.”
He gestured toward his cheek, laughing a little at the memory.
I couldn’t help but laugh softly too. “I see we have a history of cooking together,” I said.
Yunho’s smile softened. “We’ve always done it,” he replied gently. “You used to say a family that cooks together stays together.”
Without really thinking, I began fidgeting with his hand where it rested near mine.
“That’s what my mom always told me,” I said quietly.
For a moment Yunho went completely still.
His heart fluttered at my words, and something hopeful flickered in his eyes—like a small light finally turning on after days of darkness.
Before either of us could say anything else, a sudden smell drifted through the room.
Both of our heads turned toward the kitchen.
“The food!” Yunho suddenly shouted.
He jumped to his feet and rushed toward the kitchen so quickly that he nearly slipped on the tile floor.
“Whoa—!”
“Are you okay?” I called out, half concerned and half laughing.
“I’m fine!” he replied quickly, steadying himself against the counter. “I do that all the time.”
I giggled quietly as I watched him casually walk the rest of the way into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
And somehow, seeing him like that—clumsy, warm, and completely himself—made my chest feel lighter than it had in days.
Dinner turned out better than I expected. The tteokbokki was warm, spicy, and comforting, and honestly it was some of the most delicious tteokbokki I had ever tasted. I sat across from Yunho at the table, laughing as he shared story after story about us—little moments from our life together that I couldn’t remember but somehow still felt familiar.
“There was one time,” he said, barely holding back his laughter, “when you tried to surprise me with breakfast in bed.”
“That sounds sweet,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
“It would have been,” he continued, “if you hadn’t tripped on the blanket and dropped pancakes all over me.”
I gasped. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did,” he laughed. “Syrup everywhere.”
I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even if I couldn’t picture it myself. The way he told the stories made them feel real, like pieces of a life slowly being returned to me.
After dinner we cleaned up together, rinsing plates and stacking dishes into the rack. Yunho turned on some music while we worked, and the soft sound filled the apartment as we wiped the counters and put away the ingredients.
It felt… normal.
Comfortable.
Like we had done this together a thousand times before.
I was drying my hands when a slower song began playing through the speakers. Yunho suddenly paused, listening to the familiar melody.
He looked at me for a moment before stepping closer and offering me his hand.
“This was our wedding song,” he said softly.
My heart skipped.
I looked down at his hand for a moment before placing mine in it. He gently pulled me closer, one hand resting carefully at my waist as we began to sway slowly in the middle of the kitchen.
I smiled softly, letting myself relax into the moment.
The room felt warm, the lights soft above us as the music wrapped around the quiet space. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his, and the moment our gazes locked, my heart began racing again.
There was something about the way Yunho looked at me.
So full of love.
Like he had been waiting his whole life just to stand here with me.
“I vaguely remember now,” I whispered.
Yunho’s movement stilled slightly.
Another memory flickered through my mind—soft and warm.
White lights. Soft music. Me in a flowing dress.
Yunho standing in front of me in a suit, his eyes looking exactly the way they did right now.
We were dancing. Just like this.
Then the memory slipped away again.
But this time, instead of frustration, I felt something warm settle in my chest.
I smiled quietly to myself. “I had another one,” I said softly. Yunho looked down at me immediately, his eyes searching mine with hope. “What did you see?”
I squeezed his hand gently.
“We were both dressed up,” I said slowly. “Wedding attire.” My voice softened as the image replayed faintly in my mind.
“We were slowly dancing to this song.”
Yunho froze for a moment after I said it.
His hands were still resting gently at my waist, but I felt the slight tremor in them. He looked at me like he was afraid to move, like if he did the moment might disappear.
“You remember that?” he asked quietly.
“Just a little,” I admitted. “It’s blurry… like looking through fog. But I remember how it felt.”
I paused before meeting his eyes again.
“I remember being happy.”
Something in Yunho’s expression softened immediately. Relief, warmth, and disbelief flickered across his face all at once.
“You were,” he said gently. “You were smiling the whole time.”
The song continued playing softly in the background as we kept swaying in the middle of the kitchen. This time Yunho pulled me a little closer, slowly and carefully, like he was checking to make sure it was okay.
I didn’t pull away. If anything, I stepped closer myself.
My head rested lightly against his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear. For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
“You cried during the vows,” Yunho said suddenly, his voice quiet above me.
I tilted my head up to look at him. “I did?”
He laughed softly. “You tried really hard not to. But the second I started reading mine, you lost it.” I groaned quietly. “That’s embarrassing.”
“No,” he said immediately. “It was my favorite part.”
I blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“Because it meant you really loved me,” he said simply.
My chest tightened slightly at his words.
For a moment we just looked at each other, standing close together in the soft light of the kitchen. The music was still playing, but it had faded into the background.
Then something unexpected happened.
Another tiny flash of memory.
Not a full scene this time—just a feeling.
Standing across from him.
Holding his hands. Promising something.
My breath caught.
“Yunho…” I whispered.
His eyes widened instantly. “Another one?”
I nodded slowly, trying to hold onto the fading moment. “I think… we were saying our vows.” His expression softened again, hope filling his gaze. “You told me something,” I continued, concentrating. “You said… you’d fall in love with me in every lifetime.”
Yunho’s breath caught.
For a moment he couldn’t speak.
Then he smiled softly, the kind of smile that carried years of love inside it.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I did.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
We were still standing in the middle of the kitchen, the music playing softly around us as we swayed slowly together. Yunho’s arms remained around me, gentle but secure.
My heart was still racing from the memory.
It wasn’t clear, and it didn’t last long, but it was real.
Morning light slowly filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room. I lay still for a few quiet moments, listening to the faint sounds of the city waking up outside.
Then I noticed something else.
The steady sound of breathing beside me.
My eyes opened fully and I turned my head slightly. Yunho was asleep on top of the covers, sitting up against the headboard. His head was tilted to the side, one arm loosely folded across his chest while the other rested near the edge of the bed, like he had been trying to stay awake but eventually lost the fight.
My heart squeezed a little at the sight. He must have stayed there all night.
Carefully, I pushed myself up against the pillows, trying not to wake him. His hair was slightly messy, falling across his forehead, and the soft morning light made him look peaceful.
I studied him quietly. There were faint shadows under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Even now, though, his expression looked calm. I wondered how many nights he had spent worrying about me. Without really thinking, I reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his face. The moment my fingers touched him, his eyes fluttered open.
For a split second he looked confused. Then he saw me.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. “I think I’ve been awake for a while,” I admitted softly. He straightened slightly and ran a hand through his hair, clearly a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You slept sitting up all night?” I asked. He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve done worse.” I couldn’t help smiling faintly.
“You know there’s plenty of room on the bed, right?” Yunho froze for a moment. A faint blush crept up his neck as he rubbed the back of it awkwardly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly.
Something warm spread through my chest.
Even now, even after everything, he was still being careful with me.
I glanced down at the blanket in my lap before looking back up at him. “You wouldn’t have,” I said gently.
The room grew silent and my stomach growled loudly.
Yunho blinked before laughing softly. “Well,” he said, pushing himself off the bed, “I guess that means breakfast.” I laughed too as I slid out from under the covers. “Please tell me we’re not having tteokbokki again.” He looked over his shoulder with a playful grin.
“No promises.”
And for the first time since waking up in the hospital, the morning didn’t feel heavy or confusing… It felt hopeful.
We walked into the kitchen together, the soft morning light spilling in through the windows. The apartment felt calm and quiet, the kind of peaceful start that made the whole place feel warm. “I think I’m in the mood for pancakes, bacon, and fruit,” I said as I leaned lightly against the counter.
Yunho smiled immediately. “That’s always been your favorite breakfast,” he said.
Something about the way he said it made my chest feel warm again. Even if I couldn’t remember it myself, he knew these little things about me so easily. He started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets and refrigerator, setting everything neatly on the counter. Flour, eggs, milk, a bowl, and a pan. “Alright,” he said, glancing over at me. “Teamwork again.”
“What’s my job?” I asked.
He grabbed a cutting board and set a small bowl of fruit in front of me. “You’re on fruit duty,” he said. “I’ll handle the pancakes and bacon.” I nodded confidently and started washing and cutting the fruit. It only took a moment before everything was sliced neatly into the bowl. “Done,” I announced proudly.
Yunho looked over at the bowl and then back at me with raised eyebrows. “You’re fast.” I laughed softly. “I had a very difficult task.” He shook his head with a quiet chuckle before turning back to the counter. I watched as he cracked eggs into the bowl and added the rest of the ingredients for the pancakes. His movements were smooth and practiced as he whisked everything together.
Without thinking, I leaned my elbows on the counter and watched him.
He had that same little squint again while he focused on measuring things, his eyebrows pulling together slightly in concentration.
It made me smile.
“You’re staring again,” he said suddenly, not even looking up.
My eyes widened. “I am not.” He glanced at me with a knowing smile.
“You do that when you’re thinking.”
“Oh really?” I said, folding my arms. “Yeah,” he replied casually while pouring batter into the pan. “You’ve done it since the day we met.”
The soft sizzling sound filled the kitchen as the pancakes began cooking. I watched him flip one carefully before asking quietly, “What was it like?” He paused slightly. “When we met?” I nodded.
Yunho smiled faintly, like the memory was one of his favorites. “You spilled coffee on me,” he said.
My jaw dropped. “I did not.” He laughed.
“You absolutely did.” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Please tell me I at least apologized.”
“Oh you did,” he said, flipping another pancake. “About twenty times.” I peeked at him through my fingers.
“And somehow you still married me?” He glanced over at me with that soft, warm smile again. “Best accident that ever happened to me.” I laughed, a little embarrassed as I leaned against the counter. “So… did I work at a diner or something?” Yunho nodded while carefully flipping another pancake in the pan. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
The smell of pancakes and bacon slowly filled the kitchen, making my stomach rumble again. I watched him for a moment before another question popped into my head. “And what were you doing there?” I asked. “Were you with your friends or something?” He nodded again. “Yeah. A few of us stopped in after practice.” I tilted my head, curiosity growing. “So wait… now that we’re on the subject,” I said, crossing my arms slightly, “what’s your job like?” Yunho glanced up at me briefly before looking back at the pancakes.
“Well,” he said casually, “I’m part of a boy group.” I blinked.
“A boy group?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “Our name is Ateez.” My eyes widened instantly. “Wait— I know Ateez!” I said quickly. “I used to be a huge fan.” Yunho tried to stay calm, but I noticed the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he flipped another pancake. “I even remember crushing hard on one of them,” I continued, thinking out loud.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding confidently. “It was Yunho.” Then I froze. My brain slowly caught up with my words.
“…Wait a damn minute.” Yunho burst out laughing.
I pointed at him dramatically, my mouth falling open as the realization hit me. “YOU!” He could barely hold the spatula from laughing. “You had a crush on me?” he teased.
I covered my face with my hands in pure embarrassment. “Oh my god.” He leaned against the counter, still laughing. “So technically,” he added playfully, “you married your celebrity crush.” I groaned loudly.
“Please tell me I didn’t fangirl when we met.” Yunho smirked. “Oh, you definitely did.”
“So wait,” I said, still trying to wrap my head around everything. “How did we start dating? I mean… I can imagine your schedule was busy all the time with fans, signings, and concerts.”
Yunho shrugged lightly, flipping another pancake onto the plate. “The diner kind of became my favorite restaurant after I met you.” I blinked at him. “Wait,” I said slowly, starting to smile. “So you came to the diner just to see me?” He nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.“Every chance I got.” Heat rushed to my face immediately and I turned away slightly, embarrassed by the thought.
“You’re kidding,” I mumbled, trying to hide my blush.
“Nope,” he said casually, placing another pancake on the stack. “At first I told the members it was because the food was good.” I raised an eyebrow.
“And was it?” He looked at me with a teasing smile. “It was. But that wasn’t the real reason.” My cheeks burned even more. “So what happened next?” I asked quietly. “Well,” Yunho said, leaning against the counter. “Eventually you started recognizing me.” I groaned softly. “Oh no.”
“But you were surprisingly normal about it,” he continued. “You didn’t treat me like a celebrity. You just treated me like… a guy who ordered pancakes too often.” I laughed a little at that. “So we kept talking,” he said. “Every time I came in.”
“Which was apparently a lot,” I added.
He smiled.
“A lot.”
The bacon sizzled softly in the pan as he continued. “Then one day I asked if you wanted to come to a concert.” My eyes widened slightly. “I did?”
“You did,” he said with a small nod. “You were nervous the whole time.”
“I can imagine,” I muttered. “But after that,” he continued, “you started coming to more shows.” I leaned against the counter again, listening closely. “You supported me through everything,” he said softly. “Comebacks, tours, late nights at the studio.”
Something warm settled in my chest hearing that.
“And eventually,” he added, “when we got married and moved in together, we agreed you didn’t have to work at the diner anymore.” I blinked in surprise. “Really?” He nodded. “You worked hard for years,” he said gently. “I wanted you to be able to do what made you happy.” I looked down at the counter, trying to imagine the life he was describing. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” I said quietly.
Yunho didn’t hesitate.
“Still do.” The kitchen slowly fell quiet.
The smell of pancakes and bacon still lingered in the air, but the lighthearted mood from earlier had faded. I leaned against the counter, my fingers tracing the edge of the bowl of fruit as a question sat heavily in my chest. “I do have one more question,” I said softly.
Yunho looked up from the stove.
“What is it?” I hesitated for a moment before asking the thing that had been bothering me since I woke up in the hospital. “What happened before the accident?” The moment the words left my mouth, I saw his expression change. His shoulders stiffened slightly, and the small smile on his face disappeared. For the first time that morning, he looked nervous.
The silence stretched for a moment.
“Well…” he began quietly.
He turned the stove off before resting his hands on the counter, staring down at it as if the answer was written there.
“We had gotten into an argument.” I felt my chest tighten slightly. “About what?”
“My schedule,” he said. “About how much I was gone.” His voice was calm, but there was a heaviness in it now. “You said you were tired of always being alone. That you wanted a normal life… one where your husband was actually home.” I swallowed.
“And you were right,” he added quietly. “But in the moment I wasn’t listening.” His fingers tightened slightly against the counter. “I was being selfish. I kept saying the group needed me and that you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.” The kitchen suddenly felt much smaller. “We both said things we didn’t mean,” he continued.
His voice started to shake.
“I remember you getting really upset… and you said you hated me.” My heart dropped.
Yunho let out a shaky breath as he ran a hand over his face.
“You grabbed your keys and left.” His voice cracked slightly. “And then…”
Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them.
“I just wish I had stopped you,” he said quietly. “I wish I would’ve told you not to go.”
His shoulders slumped as the guilt he had clearly been carrying poured out.
“I should’ve protected you more.”
The words hung heavy in the air between us.
“Yunho…” I whispered, my chest tightening as I saw the tears still streaming down his face. A wave of guilt washed over me. Even though I couldn’t fully remember that moment, the thought of saying something like that to him made my stomach twist painfully. I stepped closer and gently reached up, wiping the tears from his cheeks with my thumb. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened,” I said softly.
My own eyes began to fill with tears as the emotion of everything finally caught up with me. “I’m sorry for saying that to you,” I continued quietly. “I know my words won’t take back what I said.” My voice trembled slightly as I looked up at him. “But I want to show you.” Yunho’s eyes searched mine, still glassy with tears. “I’m falling in love with you more and more every day,” I said.
The kitchen felt completely silent now except for our breathing.
“I want to spend every moment with you,” I continued. “I know I can’t remember the past and how we were… but I want to look forward to the future.” His expression softened slowly as he listened. “The memories we make from now on,” I added gently.
My hand slipped into his, squeezing it softly.
“You give me so many reasons to live for,” I whispered. “And I’m so lucky to have you.” For a moment Yunho just stared at me.
Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest like he never wanted to let go.
“I love you,” I said softly, looking up at him. The words felt natural leaving my lips, like they had been sitting in my heart for a long time just waiting to be spoken again.
Yunho’s breath caught slightly.
I reached up and gently caressed the side of his face, my fingers brushing along his cheek. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and the way he looked at me made my heart race all over again.
Slowly, he leaned down.
Our faces were close now—so close that I could feel his breath against my lips. My eyes flickered down to his mouth for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
The moment stretched, quiet and fragile.
Then—
A sharp sizzle filled the kitchen.
The smell of burning bacon suddenly hit the air.
Yunho’s eyes widened.
“The bacon!” he shouted.
He spun around quickly and rushed back to the stove, grabbing the pan just in time. A thin trail of smoke curled up toward the ceiling as he hurriedly turned off the burner.
I couldn’t help it.
I burst out laughing.
Yunho glanced over his shoulder at me, looking slightly flustered as he waved the smoke away. “Well,” he said, trying to salvage the moment, “romantic timing isn’t exactly our strength.” I leaned against the counter, still laughing. “Apparently not.” He looked down at the pan and sighed dramatically. “On the bright side,” he added, “the pancakes survived.” I walked over beside him and peeked into the pan.
The bacon, however, was a different story.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Define ‘survived.’”
Yunho scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
“…crispy?”
We laughed over the burnt bacon, teasing each other about our “romantic timing fail,” but honestly, it didn’t matter. The pancakes were fluffy, the fruit was fresh, and the simple act of eating together made the breakfast feel perfect. To me, it didn’t matter that a little bacon had sacrificed itself—it was the moment that counted.
After clearing the dishes and tidying up the kitchen, we got ourselves ready for the day. I chose something comfortable, and Yunho went with casual as well, though he still looked effortlessly put together. There was a quiet excitement between us, a shared understanding that today didn’t need to be anything extraordinary.
Once we stepped outside, the afternoon air greeted us softly. It was crisp, fresh, and just a little cool, with the sun casting gentle warmth on our faces. We walked side by side, fingers brushing occasionally, and I found myself smiling more than I had in days.
Yunho kept stealing glances at me, his expression soft and content, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. I felt it too—the comfort, the familiarity, even if my memory hadn’t caught up yet. Every step felt like a new memory waiting to be made, and somehow, walking beside him in the quiet afternoon, it felt like home.
The evening sky was soft and golden as Yunho and I returned to the apartment, our fingers intertwined like they had always belonged together. The city hummed quietly outside, but inside, it felt like our own little world. Every step, every touch, every glance reminded me of the connection that had never truly gone away, even when my memory had.
Once inside, we settled on the couch, still holding hands. The apartment smelled faintly of the pancakes and bacon we had burned this morning, a reminder of the imperfect, yet perfect, day we had shared. Yunho’s arm came around me naturally, and I rested my head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of him seep into me.
“I’m glad I get to fall in love with you all over again,” I whispered, feeling the words settle in my chest like sunlight.
Yunho smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “And I’m glad I get to hold your hand through it every step of the way,” he replied, his voice gentle, full of everything I needed to hear.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet with words. Instead, we let the evening stretch around us, a soft cocoon of warmth, love, and new memories waiting to be made.
I tilted my head up slightly to meet his gaze. “I know I can’t remember everything,” I said softly, “but being with you… it feels right. Like it’s always been this way.”
Yunho leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It always has been,” he murmured. “And it always will be.”
I smiled, feeling a flutter in my chest that was both familiar and new. The past didn’t matter anymore—not the argument, not the accident, not even the lost memories. What mattered was here, now, in this moment.
We stayed like that for a long while, holding each other, letting the world fade around us. Every laugh, every touch, every heartbeat reminded me that some love doesn’t need to be remembered to be real. It just needs to be felt.
And as the evening turned into night, with the city lights twinkling like tiny stars outside our window, I knew one thing for certain: no matter what tomorrow brought, we would face it together. Choosing each other, every single day, was enough.
Because love like ours wasn’t just about memories. It was about moments. And this right here, right now was ours.
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