ã€ŠA Silent Love Songã€‹


 Prologue: My Missing Note

    My Yongsun,

    You are the sun I orbit, though I¡¯m lost in your light. I wonder if you remember the boy you once played with. I wonder if the years have blurred those memories, making them fade like old photographs left too long in the sun. You¡¯re married to me now, Jessie Alvarez¡ªthe boy who turned into a man, always chasing the echoes of our past.

    I hope you still radiate love, as you always did. I keep writing stories and verses, hoping they¡¯ll bridge the chasm that sometimes seems to yawn between us, despite everything. It¡¯s the only way I know how to tell you, in this language of heartbeats and sighs, how deeply I love you. Even now, I still whisper it to the wind, hoping somehow, somewhere, you might hear it.

    Though the ocean roars between us and our conversations sometimes feel like mismatched notes, these words are all I have to offer. Your laughter¡ªonce a melody that transcended the awkwardness of our different tongues¡ªstill fills my days with light. Your quirks, like constellations in a foreign sky, used to guide me; now, I¡¯m left squinting up at the heavens, wondering if I can still find my way.

    My heart, once a barren desert, bloomed when you spoke. Your voice watered the dry landscape of my loneliness, each syllable like rain to parched soil. Now, sometimes it feels as though that same desert is reclaiming its ground, the flowers wilting under the weight of time and unspoken words. This message I write, I fear, is a paper boat adrift on a vast, indifferent sea. Yet if it reaches you, if by some miracle you feel the weight of these words, know that my purpose is fulfilled.

    You conquer your challenges, and I face mine¡ªboth of us striving, struggling to keep afloat in our separate oceans. I dream of a day when we¡¯ll share not just a language, but a lifetime, hand in hand. But until that day comes, until I can stand beside you and speak your words fluently, let this be the only phrase you need to understand: Yongsun, I love you.

    I can¡¯t wait for spring. The anticipation feels like a slow ache, a longing that stretches across these cold months, pulling me back to a time when everything felt brighter, simpler. I think of you, Yongsun, more than I care to admit, especially as the days inch closer to that season of renewal. Spring always reminds me of us¡ªof those mornings in the Philippines when the sun would peek over the horizon, and we¡¯d sit side by side, watching the world wake up. You would sing softly, your voice a gentle lullaby against the backdrop of the waves, and I would sit there, mesmerized, as if your song could carry away all the uncertainties of tomorrow.

    ¡°Can I be your sun?¡± you asked me once, your eyes reflecting the golden light of daybreak. I laughed, not because it was funny, but because I didn¡¯t know how to tell you that you already were. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, simply. It was the easiest promise I ever made.

    Now, in the present, I find myself touching your picture more often than I should, as if the worn edges of the photograph could somehow pull you closer across the expanse of years and distance. The image is faded¡ªa snapshot of you laughing, caught mid-moment in a place that feels both familiar and far away. I hold it like a relic, the only tangible link to the past I keep revisiting. Beside me, an old MP3 player, its buttons sticky from use, holds your voice, captured in tinny recordings that I play when the nights grow too quiet. Your voice crackles, but it''s unmistakably yours, singing those songs you used to sing just for me. It¡¯s almost worn out now, the sound distorted and thin, but it¡¯s enough to bring me back.

    I¡¯m most nostalgic in these months when the cold keeps me indoors and memories of warmer days resurface unbidden. I think of the times we wasted at PC shops, fingers clicking away at games, the hours slipping past unnoticed. We''d eat to our hearts'' content afterward, laughing with no sense of time or the looming reality that everything would soon change. There was that one summer when we raced paper boats along the riverbank, each one a small, hopeful vessel destined to drift until it disappeared around a bend. We watched them go, wondering if they¡¯d make it to the sea or sink halfway there. I feel like one of those boats now, carried along by a current I can¡¯t control, lost somewhere between what was and what could have been.

    The temple is still here, hidden among the city''s folds, just as it was in the photos you used to show me. You always said you wanted us to visit it together, the way other kids dreamed of Disneyland. We were still too young, though¡ªtwo kids without the means to cross oceans and make dreams like that come true. So we stayed where we were, grounded by the borders of our realities, yet somehow always reaching beyond them in our hearts.

    I pass by the temple often now, pausing just long enough to imagine what it would have been like to walk those steps with you beside me. You had to leave, and I understood, at least on the surface. You had dreams too big for the small world we shared, and I was never the kind to hold you back. But the truth is, Yongsun, your voice doesn¡¯t reach me here. Not like it did back then, when you could turn the quietest moments into something sacred with just a song.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Why couldn¡¯t you do it with me? It¡¯s a question I¡¯ve asked myself countless times, in different ways, with no real answer. Maybe I was too much of a dreamer, thinking I could hold onto something that was always meant to slip away. The MP3 player, with your voice trapped inside it, is almost a relic now, barely holding on. The batteries are low, the casing is cracked, and the songs skip in places where the data¡¯s gone bad. But I can¡¯t let it go. Not when it¡¯s the only thing that makes you feel real, even if just for a fleeting moment.

    I¡¯m not seven anymore, though some days I wish I could be. I¡¯m thirty now, a far cry from the boy who didn¡¯t know how much his life would change because of the exchange student he played with for a few fleeting weeks. It¡¯s 2021, and sometimes people still look at me like I¡¯m that quiet kid who played football after school. They don¡¯t know what happened in the years that followed¡ªwhy I changed, why I hardened. I don¡¯t bother to explain, and they don¡¯t bother to ask.

    Years without you were like wandering lost at sea. I picked up hobbies¡ªsports, books, anything to fill the void. But nothing stuck. I¡¯m a mess, unshaved and unkempt, stumbling through days that feel empty without you. Three years ago, I left the Philippines and moved to East Asia, trading one familiar loneliness for another. My family is rich; my job is stable. I have everything I need, but it all feels so hollow without you.

    Now, at thirty, I¡¯m trying to piece together the fragments of what once was. I keep replaying the old tapes of my youth, those days filled with a bittersweet mix of joy and sadness. I remember the first time I met you, and the last time I watched you leave. I remember how you changed everything, even though you were only in my life for a short while.

    Seventeen years, and it¡¯s still hard to breathe without you nearby. Learning to express myself in a language that wasn¡¯t mine felt like learning to breathe underwater. But I had to do it, had to see you again¡ªnot just in old photos, not just in my dreams. I wonder if you¡¯re married now, if life has treated you well. I wonder if you still think of me, the way I think of you every single day. I would have given anything to be part of your life, to share each sunrise and sunset with you.

    Youth is a fleeting thing, and only now do I truly understand what I lost when you walked away. It¡¯s February 12th, a day that always feels heavy with the weight of what might have been. The sky is gray, the air thick with falling snowflakes, and I wrap myself in my coat, feeling the cold bite into my skin. The garden outside is beginning to show the first hints of spring¡ªKorean rhododendrons blooming despite the chill, a stubborn promise of warmth in the cold.

    I zip up my jacket and keep walking. It¡¯ll be months before spring fully arrives, before Yeouido Park turns into a sea of cherry blossoms. I hope that one day, maybe, I can share it with you. But for now, I sigh and keep moving, letting the memories come and go like waves on a shore.

    I think of you often, Yongsun, though I say your name less these days. It lingers on my tongue, a taste of something sweet yet distant, like a melody half-remembered from a song we used to sing. I wonder if you¡¯d recognize me now¡ªthis rougher, quieter version of the boy who once held your hand and promised forever in a place that felt like our whole universe.

    Some days, it feels like I¡¯m traveling backwards through time, the years unwinding until I¡¯m just a boy again, wandering those familiar corridors where we first met. I remember our games, our secrets shared in whispers. I remember the day you left, and the way I stood there, watching as you disappeared around the corner.

    I still remember our marriage, Yongsun, even though so many things have changed. I can see it clearly: the small Buddhist temple hidden in the heart of our high school, where you nagged me endlessly to make it official. We were so young, but your persistence was unyielding, a force as constant as the sun. I laughed, not quite believing you were serious, but you looked at me with those eyes that twinkled like sunlight on water. "Only here," you insisted, as if that tiny, sacred space held the entire universe within its walls.

    I promised you then, a vow as sacred as any: I¡¯d only ever do it with you. We stood there, hands clasped and hearts pounding, our makeshift vows whispered between quiet giggles and stolen glances. The world outside blurred away, leaving only us, wrapped in a cocoon of na?ve love and teenage dreams.

    When it was done, I kissed your eyes, feeling the warmth of your gaze against my lips. They were your most beautiful feature¡ªbright, radiant, and full of life. In that moment, they shined even brighter, filled with the promise of everything we could be. You looked at me as if I was the answer to every question you''d ever asked. I wish I could have bottled that feeling, saved it for all the lonely years that would follow. But I keep it here, tucked away in my heart, a memory that still makes me smile despite everything.

    It¡¯s strange, isn¡¯t it, how time can blur the edges of things? I wake up some mornings, and it¡¯s as if no time has passed at all. I can still see you, clear as day, calling my name, telling me to hurry or we¡¯ll be late for class. I open my eyes and blink against the harsh light of reality. I¡¯m Jessie Alvarez, standing on the edge of thirty, but in my mind, I¡¯m still that fourteen-year-old boy, waiting to see you again.

    This is my story¡ªour story. A tale of love lost and found, of moments that slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you try to hold on. Perhaps you¡¯ll smile as you read it. Perhaps you¡¯ll cry. But if nothing else, I hope you¡¯ll feel it, the way I¡¯ve felt every beat of this lonely, longing heart.

    The snow keeps falling, each flake a tiny, fleeting miracle, a testament to the passage of time. I stand still for a moment, watching the world turn white, feeling the chill seep into my bones. It¡¯s a somber thing, this waiting. But maybe, just maybe, there¡¯s still hope. Because in the end, isn¡¯t that all we have? Hope, and the small, stubborn belief that love¡ªonce found¡ªcan never truly be lost.

    I sigh, close my eyes, and let the memories take me where they will. This is where it all began. And maybe, just maybe, it¡¯s where it will begin again.

 Chapter One: A Chance Encounter in Quezon City

    Chapter One: A Chance Encounter in Quezon City

    In the summer of 2004, Quezon City, Philippines, was a bustling hub where students from across Asia flocked to learn English at a bargain, and private education came at a price families could afford. The dry season stretched long, making every step on the street feel like the sun was pressing down hard enough to turn pale skin to bronze. Kids played hopscotch barefoot, while boys spent their afternoons shooting hoops beneath the sprawling oak trees draped in Spanish moss, the sound of their laughter mingling with the scent of warm asphalt and the thick perfume parents doused on their children before sending them off.

    Malls were the heartbeat of the city, a refuge from the heat and a social ground for those seeking leisure in the limited ways available back then¡ªteledramas, PC cafes, and imported culture through movies and games just beginning to trickle in from overseas. For most, the options to socialize were limited to the local neighborhoods, churches, and those familiar storefronts in every mall.

    I often found myself among local Buddhist monks, surrounded by Korean, Japanese, and Chinese folk, despite being enrolled in a Catholic school. My mother, fascinated by charms and traditions from different Asian cultures, dragged me along to visit these monks. While religion didn¡¯t captivate me, the monks'' kindness did¡ªthey shared their culture and stories, and though they couldn¡¯t draw or write in public, we exchanged tales of integrity, love, and kindness through spoken word. Those visits were a world apart from the Catholic environment of my school, where bickering between Catholics and Protestants felt commonplace, and the kids often seemed unruly.

    "Do you ever get tired of it?" I''d asked my aunt one afternoon, Bible in one hand, poetry book in the other. She just smiled, her eyes twinkling in that way that said she knew something I didn''t.

    "Every tradition has its beauty," she said softly. "You just have to find what speaks to you."

    School was another story. I was often cast as a writer or an orator for speech events that I didn¡¯t enjoy¡ªmemorizing lines felt like a chore, but the adults found it charming. My mother was thrilled whenever I won medals, and my father, always the pragmatist, saw it as practice for something greater.

    Our school, a bastion of Catholic tradition run by Franciscan nuns, was a place where uniformity was paramount. Every morning, we were herded into the grand auditorium, a cavernous space with towering ceilings and intricate stained glass windows. There, we would sing hymns, recite prayers, and listen to sermons that often felt like hours long.

    But for those who weren¡¯t Catholic, the auditorium was a place to be avoided. The school had a peculiar policy: if you weren¡¯t Catholic, you weren¡¯t obligated to attend the religious services. However, instead of being excused entirely, you were consigned to a solitary room, supervised by a single teacher. It was a lonely and isolating experience, a stark contrast to the communal atmosphere of the auditorium.

    I, a Catholic, found myself in this predicament. The thought of being alone in a room for an entire hour filled me with dread. But I was also terrified of the auditorium¡¯s towering staircase. The sheer height and steep incline sent shivers down my spine.

    Determined to avoid both the isolation and the vertigo, I devised a plan. I would pretend to be a Protestant. The Protestant students were allowed to attend a separate religious service in the auditorium, and I figured that if I could blend in with them, I could avoid the solitary confinement.

    With a mixture of courage and trepidation, I joined the Protestant group. As we entered the auditorium, I pretended to be familiar with the hymns and prayers. I sang along, albeit quietly, and tried to mimic the gestures and expressions of the other students.

    To my surprise, it worked. No one seemed to notice that I was an imposter. The Protestant service was a stark contrast to the Catholic one. Instead of solemn hymns and Latin prayers, we sang upbeat gospel songs and engaged in lively discussions. I found myself enjoying the experience. The music was uplifting, and the atmosphere was far more relaxed than the stuffy formality of the Catholic service.

    From then on, I continued to attend the Protestant service. It became a refuge for me, a place where I could escape the rigid confines of Catholic tradition. And though I knew I was technically lying, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having found a way to navigate the school¡¯s strict rules and find a sense of belonging.

    Then came the day she walked into my life¡ªa girl shy of 13, just like me. Yongsun Kim, or Michelle as she preferred in English, stood nervously at the front of the classroom, clutching an ornate pendant from her hometown in Gangseo-gu, Korea, just south of the Han River. Mrs. Saladinan, our teacher, urged us to talk to her, to make her feel welcome. I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what brought her all the way to Manila, to this humid city where the language was foreign, and the culture was just as distant.

    Yongsun, a delicate flower from Korea''s affluent suburbs, was sent to the Philippines by her doting parents. Her family, a lineage of lawyers and educators, had decided that a stint in the tropics would be the perfect way to immerse her in a new culture while honing her English skills. After all, what better place to learn a language than in a country where it¡¯s spoken fluently?

    And so, the young heiress found herself in the care of her grandparents, who had retired to the idyllic countryside. While the experience was undoubtedly enriching, Yongsun couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being a fish out of water. Her shyness and limited English made it difficult for her to connect with the locals.

    To her delight, however, she discovered a hidden gem: the pristine beaches of the Philippines. The warm, turquoise waters and soft, golden sands were a far cry from the bustling metropolis she was accustomed to. Yongsun was eager to explore this new world and learn to swim, but her fear of water held her back.

    "Do you want to sit with us?" I asked, my voice hesitant, yet hopeful.

    She nodded, her smile shy but genuine. "Yes, thank you."

    I wasn¡¯t sure why, but I felt drawn to her. Maybe it was her gentle demeanor or the way she lit up when she spoke in her broken English. We bonded quickly over shared chicken strips in the canteen, a language barrier that seemed less daunting with each passing day.

    One day, she approached me with a hopeful glint in her eye, asking if I would join her in swimming lessons. My heart skipped a beat. I was terrified of water myself, but the thought of helping Yongsun overcome her fear was too enticing to resist.

    "You like Harry Potter?" I asked, catching sight of the book she was holding. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically.

    "Yes! But... hard to read," she admitted, her accent thick but endearing. "Can you help?"

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "Of course," I replied, smiling. "We can read it together."

    One day, Mrs. Saladinan, our stern yet compassionate teacher, took me aside. She expressed concern about my grades, a gentle nudge to strive for higher achievements. Her words, though delivered with a gentle touch, carried the weight of expectation. She proposed a challenge: if I could help Yongsun improve her grades, she would personally see to it that I became an honor student.

    The prospect of academic excellence was alluring, but it meant sacrificing time with my friends, Al and Ryan. They understood my dilemma, their friendship a comforting balm in the face of my decision. Yet, another layer of complexity was added when Alyana and Aimee, two classmates who shared a school bus with Yongsun, began spending more time with her.

    Yongsun, ever the loyal companion, was reluctant to let me drift away. She held onto my arm with a possessive grip, her eyes pleading for my undivided attention. Her shyness, a constant companion, made her even more clingy. She wanted me to be hers and hers alone, her first and only friend. Our peers found our inseparable bond amusing, but I was determined to honor her wishes.

    To ensure that I could spend more time with Yongsun, I approached my mother with a request: an increase in my allowance. Back then, a hundred pesos was a substantial sum, a small fortune that could buy countless treats and toys. But I had a different purpose in mind. With the extra money, I purchased English and Korean language textbooks, hoping to accelerate Yongsun''s learning.

    Together, we spent countless hours at the library, Mrs. Orosco, the kindly librarian, guiding us through the Dewey Decimal System. I read aloud from fantasy and romance novels, my voice a soothing melody that helped Yongsun grasp the nuances of the English language. Aimee, the class president, joined our study sessions, her intelligence and leadership skills proving invaluable.

    Yongsun''s academic journey was a formidable obstacle course. Not only did she have to grapple with the intricacies of the English language, but she was also expected to master Filipino, a language as foreign to her as the constellations in the night sky. The challenge was exacerbated by the phonetic similarities between Korean and Filipino, particularly the blending of "r" and "l" sounds.

    I endeavored to teach her Filipino, my heart filled with the desire to help her succeed. But the task was daunting, like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. We struggled through the lessons, our voices a harmonious blend of frustration and determination.

    When Yongsun''s assignments proved too daunting, I offered her my own, a silent act of support. The library, a sanctuary of knowledge, was a barren wasteland for her, devoid of Korean texts. Translation became an arduous task, but with the help of my aunt, who patiently guided her through the intricacies of the language over the phone, we managed to overcome the hurdles.

    After school, we would remain in the classroom for hours, my commitment to her education unwavering. Evenings were spent on the phone, our conversations a soothing balm for the day''s challenges. Yongsun''s diligence was a beacon of inspiration, her determination a testament to her strength.

    However, our journey was not without its obstacles. As a devout Buddhist, Yongsun was unable to attend the Catholic mass, a requirement for all students. This presented a dilemma for me, as I longed to join my friends, Ryan and Jana, in the Protestant service. But my loyalty to Yongsun prevailed. I couldn''t leave her alone in the classroom, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

    One evening, as we sat together under the soft glow of a lamp, I shared my dilemma with Yongsun. She listened attentively, her expression a mix of understanding and concern.

    "I''ll work harder," she promised, her voice filled with determination. "I''ll learn a song for you."

    I held her hand, my heart swelling with emotion. "I''ll always be here for you," I replied, my voice a gentle affirmation. "I''ll sacrifice anything for you."

    From then on, our conversations flowed¡ªhalting at times but always filled with warmth. We spoke of many things: math, writing, dreams, and the peculiarities of our cultures. Though her English was limited, and I stumbled through her language as well, our voices carried the same loud enthusiasm and a humor that not everyone around us understood.

    "I like painting too," she once told me, her fingers sketching invisible lines in the air as she described her latest project. "But... no good at it."

    I laughed, shaking my head. "I''m sure you''re better than you think."

    She shrugged, smiling at my encouragement, and I couldn¡¯t help but think how she made everything seem brighter. Yongsun wasn¡¯t just another girl; she was kind and selfless in ways that made the rest of us seem selfish by comparison. She was the type who would pull weeds from a neighbor''s garden without being asked or stop traffic to help kids cross the road. Every glance from her made me feel guilty for not being more like her, even when I hadn¡¯t done anything wrong.

    One afternoon, sitting in the shade of a tree with the sun casting dappled patterns on her face, I finally asked, "Do you really want to learn English, Yongsun?"

    She nodded, her expression earnest. "Yes, it''s why I came here. I want to go back and help my family... and I want to talk to you."

    Those words stayed with me, carved into the deepest corners of my heart. She looked forward to our meetings as much as she looked forward to talking to her sister over email each night¡ªsomething I didn¡¯t fully understand, having never used a computer. But through her, I learned the importance of telling people you miss them, that you love them. She told me I was her reason for never missing a day at school, and from that day, I vowed never to be absent either.

    We lived just two blocks from each other, and though I was too embarrassed to have her visit my home, we spent hours talking on the phone. I cherished the time but sometimes felt overwhelmed by her constant presence.

    "Do you think people think we''re... you know, together?" I asked one day, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks.

    She giggled, the sound like music. "Maybe. But I don¡¯t mind."

    Her words made my heart race. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was love, but it was something close, something that made every day feel a little brighter, a little more full of promise. We became inseparable¡ªshe would buy me flowers, small gifts, and even share her Meiji chocolates with me in the playground. The teasing from our friends about us being more than friends only made us laugh.

    And just like that, our bond grew deeper. We were fast friends, each other¡¯s confidants, and I knew that no matter where life took us, I¡¯d always hold onto the memory of those days in Quezon City. The girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, who wasn¡¯t afraid to be different, who taught me that even in the simplest moments, there was a world of meaning waiting to be discovered.

    One evening, as we sat beneath the canopy of a blossoming mango tree, our hearts entwined in the soft glow of the setting sun, Yongsun and I shared stories of our families. She spoke of her older sister, a bright young girl navigating the challenges of middle school in Korea. A pang of envy washed over her as she listened to my tales of family life.

    "It must be wonderful to live with your parents," she sighed, her voice tinged with longing.

    I hesitated, my mind drifting back to the early days of my childhood. "We are a family of four," I replied, my tone subdued. "But my siblings and I... we¡¯re not very close."

    Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"

    I explained how our busy parents had entrusted our upbringing to our aunts, effectively dividing our family into separate households. Yongsun nodded, her expression a mirror of my own.

    "I understand," she said softly. "My grandparents raised me. I was lucky to find you."

    A warmth spread through my chest. "We could be family," I suggested, my voice filled with hope. "I see you as my own."

    Her eyes sparkled with gratitude. "I would love to meet your family," she replied, her voice a gentle whisper. "I¡¯ve already met your mother, but I want to know the others."

    Intrigued by her desire to learn more about my culture, I encouraged her to share stories of her own. She regaled me with tales of Korean folklore, her voice weaving intricate tapestries of mythical creatures and heroic deeds. I was particularly captivated by the tragic love story of Chunyang and Mongryong, a tale that filled me with a profound sense of sadness.

    "I would never let anything like that happen to you," I vowed, my heart aching for her.

    Her cheeks flushed a rosy hue as she smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. "Write our own fairytale someday," she suggested, her voice barely a whisper.

    I chuckled, my heart fluttering with a sense of anticipation. "It¡¯s too early for that," I replied, my voice playful. "But perhaps one day..."

    "Come to my house," she invited one day, her eyes hopeful. "Meet my grandmother. She wants to know the boy who makes me smile."

    And in that moment, I knew I would do anything to keep that smile alive.

 Chapter 2

    The gymnasium was bustling with chatter as parents filled the room, waiting for the PTA meeting to start. My palms were slick with sweat, and my heart pounded like a drum, louder than the noise around me. I spotted my mother across the room, deep in conversation with Yongsun''s godfather. They seemed engrossed, leaning in close, their voices barely audible over the clamor. I strained to hear, catching bits and pieces¡ªsomething about thanking my mom for taking care of Michelle, and a hushed mention of Yongsun not being able to exert herself physically.

    My chest tightened. I waited until we were on our way home before asking my mother about it. She glanced at me, her expression soft yet guarded. "I can''t tell you everything right now, Jess," she said gently, her voice tinged with an unusual seriousness that made my stomach drop. "But promise me, whatever happens, you''ll always take care of Yong. Love her like you do now, and never let her feel alone."

    It was an odd request, one that felt both heavy and urgent, and yet, the warmth of puppy love I felt for Yongsun was enough to make me nod, my voice barely a whisper. "I promise."

    I tried to sound tough, throwing in a clumsy attempt at bravado, but deep down, I was just a boy grappling with feelings too big for my age.

    Yongsun was waiting for me outside the school gates. She was nervous too, fiddling with her fingers in that way she did when she was deep in thought. Today, she wasn¡¯t wearing her glasses, and it caught me off guard. Her eyes, usually hidden behind thick frames, were bright and sharp, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.

    She smiled when she saw me. ¡°Come over to my house,¡± she said, her voice carrying that familiar mix of assertiveness and sweetness. ¡°I want you to meet my grandmother.¡±

    I nodded, trying to mask my nerves. Yongsun lived just two blocks away, but the walk felt longer, filled with the weight of unspoken words and the strange new awareness of her presence beside me.

    Maxi was a bully, a towering figure with a sneer that could cut glass. He was the nephew of a local priest, a fact that seemed to give him a sense of entitlement. He''d been picking on me for weeks, calling me names, taunting me, and making my life a living hell.

    One afternoon, as I was walking home from school, Maxi and his cronies cornered me. "Hey, slum dweller," Maxi sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You''re good for nothing. Why don''t you just go back to your shanty and play with your rats?"

    I tried to ignore him, to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, his grip tight and painful. I struggled to break free, but he was stronger than me. Just as I thought I was going to get a beating, I heard a voice shout, "Leave him alone!"

    I turned to see Yongsun charging towards us, her face flushed with anger. She was smaller than Maxi, but her fury seemed to give her a newfound strength.

    "You''re a bully," she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. "You''re a coward. How dare you pick on someone smaller than you?"

    Maxi sneered. "Is that so, little miss tough guy?" he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

    Before I could react, Yongsun slapped Maxi across the face. The slap was loud and sharp, and it caught everyone by surprise. Maxi stumbled backward, his face reddening with shock and anger.

    "You hit me?" he roared, his voice rising in pitch.

    Yongsun didn''t back down. "I''ll hit you again if you don''t leave him alone," she said, her voice filled with defiance.

    Maxi looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for support. But everyone was too stunned to speak. He knew he couldn''t fight a girl without losing face, so he turned and walked away, his tail between his legs.

    As soon as Maxi was out of sight, I turned to Yongsun. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I was still shaking from the encounter, but I felt a surge of gratitude for Yongsun''s bravery.

    "It''s no problem," she replied, her voice soft. "I won''t let anyone hurt you."

    From that day forward, Maxi left me alone. He knew that if he tried to mess with me again, Yongsun would be there to protect me.

    A few days later, Yongsun got into trouble for fighting. She was sent to the guidance counselor for a long sermon about the importance of peace and non-violence. I was also sent to detention for being involved in the incident.

    As we sat in the detention room, I turned to Yongsun and said, "Why did you fight Maxi? He''s bigger than you."

    Yongsun shrugged. "I''m your protector," she replied, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "I won''t let anyone hurt you."

    I smiled. "You''re the best friend anyone could ask for," I said.

    Yongsun blushed. "I''m glad you think so," she replied.

    As we sat there, I couldn''t help but think about how lucky I was to have Yongsun in my life. She was my protector, my confidante, my best friend. And I would do anything to make her happy.

    One day, as we were walking home from school, I stopped at a video game store. I remembered how much Yongsun loved the Dragon Quest series, so I decided to buy her the third game. As I handed it to her, I said, "Thank you for everything, Yongsun. You''re the best."

    Yongsun''s eyes lit up with joy. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

    I nodded. "Really," I replied. "You''re the best."

    Yongsun didn¡¯t have many friends, just like me, and we often spent afternoons at her place, playing on her PS2 or sharing cartridges for her Gameboy. She loved RPGs, and I soon found myself immersed in the same worlds she adored, the two of us losing hours to EverQuest and Ragnarok Online, sharing the same account and splitting the cost of time cards like it was our little secret.

    Yongsun was a passionate gamer, her love for video games bordering on obsession. She was particularly drawn to games with strong female protagonists and compelling narratives. Her favorite games were those that told stories about love, loss, and redemption. She was especially fond of the Final Fantasy series, particularly Final Fantasy VIII and X. Rinoa Heartily, Garnet Til Alexandros XVII, and Yuna were her favorite characters, women who defied expectations and fought for what they believed in.

    Yongsun and I often spent hours playing video games together at her house. We''d sit on her bed, our heads close together as we navigated the virtual worlds. She would often narrate the story, her voice filled with emotion as she described the characters and their journeys.

    When we weren''t playing games, Yongsun would often be found writing in her notebook. She was a talented writer, and she used her notebooks to create her own stories, often inspired by the games she loved. Her stories were filled with adventure, romance, and a touch of magic.

    One day, while we were playing Final Fantasy X, Yongsun turned to me and said, "I wish I could write a story like this."

    I looked at her, surprised. "You could," I said. "You''re a great writer."

    Yongsun smiled. "Maybe someday," she replied.

    From that day forward, Yongsun worked on writing her own story. She spent countless hours crafting the plot, developing the characters, and writing the dialogue. She poured her heart and soul into her work, and it showed.

    When she finally finished her story, she read it to me. It was a beautiful tale of love, loss, and redemption, filled with adventure and magic. I was amazed by her talent.

    "You''re amazing," I told her, my voice filled with admiration.

    Yongsun blushed. "Thank you," she replied. "I''m glad you liked it."

    From that day forward, Yongsun continued to write stories. She published several of them online, and they were met with great acclaim. She was a talented writer, and her stories touched the hearts of many people.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Yongsun''s love for video games was more than just a hobby. It was a passion that fueled her creativity and inspired her to tell stories that would touch the hearts of others. And I was proud to be a part of her journey.

    Additionally, once Yongsun learned English, she became even more passionate about video games. She could now fully appreciate the stories and characters of her favorite games. She would often stay up all night playing and drawing fan art of her favorite characters. However, I had to tell her to stop staying up so late. She told me I was a downer, but I hated seeing her with eyebags. I assured her that my love for her wouldn''t change, but she needed to focus on her studies and her club activities.

    She pouted but agreed. She then asked me to come play with her at her house, as I had missed out the last time. Her grandparents were busy, so my mom didn''t let me inside. Now that we had eaten at Little Caesars, we could go. She also kept telling me how good Final Fantasy X-2 was, but I had never played a Final Fantasy game. My dad was thrifty and preferred to invest money in new breeds of birds and horses rather than buy me video games. He said I had plenty of books to read. My mom also didn''t let me play video games during school days, so I usually played at Yongsun''s house.

    Yongsun¡¯s place was a cozy, two-story home that always smelled faintly of jasmine and old books. Her grandmother greeted us at the door with a warm smile, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun. She didn¡¯t use a cane, still spry and sharp at sixty. ¡°Ah, Jess! Finally, I get to meet you,¡± she said, her Korean accent thick but her English fluent. ¡°Thank you for taking care of our Yongsun.¡±

    I mumbled something polite, feeling suddenly shy under her kind gaze. She led us into the living room, where the air was filled with the comforting aroma of tteok and freshly made rice cakes. The table was set with a colorful array of banchan¡ªsmall side dishes of fish, sprouts, spinach, potatoes, and eggplants.

    Yongsun nudged me as we sat down. ¡°Eat up,¡± she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re going to need the energy if you want to keep up with me.¡±

    I chuckled, though my heart skipped a beat when she added, almost shyly, ¡°I want us to be healthy so we can stay together for a long time.¡±

    Mrs. Kim watched us with a knowing smile. ¡°Yong is the sweetest of the sweets,¡± she said proudly. ¡°She¡¯s always so thoughtful, always taking care of everyone around her.¡±

    Yongsun just shrugged, her cheeks flushing pink. She was always assertive, never one to back down from a challenge, and yet there was a tenderness in her eyes when she looked at me. She had a way of breaking down my defenses, her persistence and patience wearing me down until I couldn¡¯t help but give in. She could be stubborn as a rock and soft as a feather, all at once.

    After dinner, we moved to her room, a cozy space filled with posters of Korean singers like BoA and S.E.S., and shelves crammed with games and comics. She tossed me a controller, her grin wide and inviting. ¡°Let¡¯s play,¡± she said, her eyes sparkling with the promise of adventure. We lost track of time, as usual, only stopping when Mrs. Kim poked her head in to remind us it was getting late.

    As the days turned into weeks, Yongsun started talking about taking taekwondo classes and joining a singing club. She¡¯d beg me to join her, her excitement infectious. ¡°You need to be strong,¡± she¡¯d say, her tone half-teasing, half-serious. ¡°How else are you going to take care of me?¡±

    I¡¯d roll my eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but her words always lingered. I ended up taking up weightlifting and chess instead. ¡°I need to be strong and smart to be your bodyguard,¡± I joked, flexing my barely-there muscles.

    Yongsun just snorted. ¡°A midget bodyguard?¡± she teased, nudging me with her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re not tall enough to protect me.¡±

    I shot back, ¡°You¡¯re not that tall either,¡± and she burst into laughter, the sound bright and carefree, filling the room with warmth.

    Still, I encouraged her to pursue her dreams, always telling her that one day, I¡¯d love to hear her sing. She¡¯d light up at that, launching into excited ramblings about Celine Dion, Korean pop stars, and her dream of joining a girl group. ¡°Just you wait,¡± she¡¯d say, her eyes sparkling with determination. ¡°One day, I¡¯ll be just like them.¡±

    I¡¯d tease her back, saying she was too ugly to be a pop star, and she¡¯d pout, hitting me lightly on the arm. But I¡¯d always pull her into a hug afterward, holding her tight, unsure if my words were just a joke or a poorly disguised truth. In those moments, she¡¯d wrap her arms around me too, squeezing just a bit harder, her voice soft and almost pleading. ¡°Don¡¯t ever let go,¡± she¡¯d whisper. ¡°Let¡¯s stay like this as long as we can.¡±

    The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm, inviting light on Yongsun as she sat on her bed, her fingers dancing across the strings of her guitar. She was playing a Korean version of "Eyes on Me," a song from the Final Fantasy VIII soundtrack that she loved. Her voice, a delicate melody, filled the room with a haunting beauty.

    As she played, I watched her, my heart filled with a mix of admiration and affection. I had never heard her sing before, and I was blown away by her talent. Her voice was so pure, so full of emotion.

    When she finished playing, she turned to me and smiled. "I can also play it on the piano," she said.

    I was surprised. "Really?" I asked.

    She nodded. "I learned how to play when I was younger."

    I asked her to play it for me, and she did. Her fingers moved across the keys with grace and precision, and the sound was even more beautiful than I had imagined.

    As she played, I couldn''t help but think about how lucky I was to know her. She was so talented, so kind, and so beautiful.

    When she finished playing, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," I whispered. "That was beautiful."

    Yongsun smiled. "I''m glad you liked it," she replied.

    As I held her, I couldn''t help but feel a surge of emotion. She was so young, so full of life. And I was falling in love with her.

    I pulled back and looked into her eyes. "You know, you''re like the woman singing that song," I said. "You''re strong, independent, and beautiful."

    Yongsun blushed. "Really?" she asked.

    I nodded. "Really," I replied. "And I love you."

    Yongsun''s eyes widened. "You''re serious?" she asked.

    I nodded again. "Very serious," I replied.

    Yongsun turned away and wiped a tear from her eye. "It''s too early for romance," she said, her voice trembling.

    I reached out and took her hand. "I don''t care," I said. "I love you."

    Yongsun looked at me, her eyes filled with doubt. "Are you sure?" she asked.

    I nodded. "Very sure," I replied.

    Yongsun smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and disbelief. "Thank you," she said. "I love you too."

    It was the kind of promise that seemed unbreakable, made in the warmth of a shared moment. Yet, there was something in her voice that always felt a little ominous, a shadow lurking behind her bright smile. But when she told me not to be afraid, when she laced her fingers through mine and squeezed, all my worries faded. Her hand felt warm, soft¡ªlike holding onto a piece of sunshine. She smelled faintly of jasmine, a scent I¡¯d come to associate with comfort and home.

    As we grew older, our bond only deepened. We spent every weekend together, whether it was playing games, doing homework, or just lazing around on her rooftop, watching the sky change colors from dusk till dawn. Sometimes we¡¯d read comics like Tintin, Judge Dredd, and X-Men, comics we¡¯d saved up for and bought from the local grocery store.

    Yongsun and I were inseparable. We spent countless hours together, exploring the city, reading comics, and watching movies. She was particularly fond of X-Men and Judge Dredd, classic superhero comics that were popular in the 90s.

    One day, Yongsun mentioned that she wanted to buy some Sailor Moon manga. I was surprised. I hadn''t heard of Sailor Moon before, but I was curious.

    "Where can we buy them?" I asked.

    Yongsun shrugged. "I don''t know," she replied. "I haven''t seen any stores that sell them."

    We spent the next few weeks searching for Sailor Moon manga, but we couldn''t find any. It was frustrating, but Yongsun didn''t give up. She kept looking, and eventually, she found a small comic book store that had a few volumes in stock.

    I was so happy for her when she finally found the manga. She bought all the volumes that were available, and she spent hours reading them.

    As time went on, our dates became cheaper, often consisting of watching VCDs at home. But we didn''t mind. We enjoyed spending time together, and we didn''t need expensive dates to have fun.

    Yongsun was also starting to get interested in makeup and fashion. She would often experiment with different looks, and she loved to shop for new clothes. I was a little surprised, but I also thought it was great that she was finding new interests.

    People would often ask me if I was Yongsun''s chaperone. I would just smile and say that we were friends. But at school, Yongsun would sometimes call me her boyfriend to deter suitors. I thought it was funny, but I also knew that she was doing it to protect me.

    I was also getting more fit. Thanks to Yongsun''s encouragement, I had started going to the gym and lifting weights. She would often watch me as I squatted and deadlifted.

    One day, I told Yongsun that I wanted to join a weightlifting competition when I was older. She was excited for me. "You can do it," she said. "You''re strong."

    I smiled. "I''ll do my best," I replied.

    From that day forward, I trained even harder. I wanted to make Yongsun proud. And I knew that if I could achieve my goal of becoming a competitive weightlifter, it would be a testament to our friendship.

    Other times, she¡¯d sing for me, her voice sweet and a little shy at first, then growing stronger as she gained confidence. She¡¯d sing in English, practicing tirelessly to keep up with the songs she loved, and I¡¯d find myself struggling to keep up with her pace.

    One night, as we lay on her rooftop, the stars twinkling above us, Yongsun turned to me, her expression serious. ¡°Jess,¡± she said, her voice soft. ¡°Do you think I can be your sun?¡±

    I blinked at her, caught off guard. It was early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten with the first rays of dawn. Her face was bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun, her eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

    Without thinking, I nodded. ¡°Yes,¡± I said, the word coming out before I even realized. ¡°Of course.¡±

    A smile broke across her face, bright and radiant. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, a quick, fluttering touch that sent my heart racing. I could only grin back, feeling like the luckiest boy in the world. This was what puppy love felt like¡ªsweet, innocent, and full of endless possibilities.

    Time flew by, and before we knew it, high school was on the horizon. Yongsun had grown more beautiful with each passing day, her long hair flowing like a dark river and her cheeks still chubby in that endearing way. She was taller than me now, a fact she loved to point out whenever she got the chance. But to me, she was perfect, my sun and my star all rolled into one.

    We were inseparable, and everyone who knew us assumed we were just two kids in love, caught up in the magic of first crushes. I called her my sun and star, and she¡¯d laugh, pulling me close in one of those hugs that always felt like home. It was easy to forget that life had other plans, that things weren¡¯t always as simple as they seemed.

    Because little did I know, my star¡¯s embers were slowly fading, her light dimming bit by bit with every passing day.

 Chapter 3

    The summer sun hung heavy over our small kitchen, its heat seeping through the thin curtains and making the air almost stifling. My father sat across from me, his suit pristine as always despite the sweat beading on his forehead. It was his armor, the polished shield of a man who knew the weight of responsibility. He cut his pork chop with deliberate precision, pausing to look up at me, his eyes sharp and assessing. ¡°I think it would be a good idea,¡± he said, his voice as final as a judge''s gavel.

    I knew what he meant. When my father spoke that way, decisions were set in stone. My mother, delicate and quiet, nodded as she chewed her peas, her gaze flitting between us. Sometimes I thought she enjoyed watching me squirm under his scrutiny, but her soft wink gave me the tiniest sliver of hope.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got the grades for the top science high school,¡± he continued, ¡°but Michelle¡­Yong¡­ doesn¡¯t. Mr. Lee said she¡¯s been absent too often for her check-ups, and they¡¯re strict on that. So we¡¯ve arranged for both of you to attend the science high school nearby.¡±

    My father¡¯s voice softened a fraction. ¡°I know you love Michelle, so I pulled a few strings. But you have to keep your grades up. I expect nothing less.¡±

    There it was again¡ªthat unspoken pressure that I carried like a second skin. My love for Yong was a quiet, persistent drumbeat in my chest, something that defied reason and expectation. I nodded, my heart caught between the burden of expectation and the thrill of being near her. ¡°Thank you,¡± I managed to say, my voice tight. ¡°I just want to be near her, no matter what.¡±

    Mr. Lee, Yong¡¯s granfather, had been insistent. ¡°She can¡¯t travel far,¡± he¡¯d said, his voice tinged with the kind of worry that only a parent could have. I could still remember his furrowed brow and the way his hand rested protectively on Yong¡¯s shoulder. Even then, she had smiled brightly, determined to stay strong in spite of everything.

    The school we ended up in was large, sprawling like a maze of possibilities and unspoken promises. It was a building filled with youthful ambition, with wide courtyards where students mingled and old trees that stood like ancient sentinels watching over us. I felt lost in the crowd, just another face trying to carve out a place in a world that seemed too big, too fast. Yong, on the other hand, stood out like a beacon. She was radiant, her energy infectious, and her presence commanded attention without her even trying.

    As we walked through the gates of Roces Science High School, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of awe. The campus was sprawling and green, with modern buildings that seemed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding trees.

    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful,¡± Yong said, her eyes wide with wonder.

    We made our way to the main building, where we were greeted by a friendly staff member. She showed us around the school, pointing out the different facilities. There were state-of-the-art science laboratories, a spacious library, and a modern auditorium.

    ¡°This is the perfect place for us,¡± Yong said. ¡°We can both pursue our passions here.¡±

    I nodded in agreement. Roces Science High School was a haven for students who loved learning. The focus was on liberal arts and sciences, with a wide range of subjects to choose from, including chemistry, math, singing, acting, writing, and robotics.

    As we continued our tour, we met some of our classmates. They were all friendly and welcoming, eager to make new friends. I could tell that we were going to fit in perfectly at Roces.

    As we left the school, Yong turned to me and said, ¡°I can¡¯t wait to start classes here.¡±

    I smiled. ¡°Me neither.¡±

    I knew that Roces Science High School was going to be a special place for us both. It was a place where we could learn, grow, and pursue our dreams together.

    From the very first day, Yong excelled. The school choir and theater club were quick to notice her, and she was soon performing in front of crowds, her voice captivating and her poise undeniable. It was no surprise when she was chosen to give the first-year speech, standing at the podium with the grace of someone born to lead. Her words carried an air of authority and elegance, and as she spoke, I couldn¡¯t help but think she could easily be a politician someday.

    But while Yong was swept up in the whirlwind of clubs and responsibilities, my father had other ideas for me. ¡°You need to join something manly,¡± he¡¯d said, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the list of extracurriculars. ¡°There¡¯s no weightlifting here, but there¡¯s arnis or fencing. You should consider those.¡±

    ¡°I was thinking of soccer,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice steady, ¡°or maybe writing.¡±

    He frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Your brother¡¯s already a writer. You need to make your own path.¡±

    It was another expectation added to the growing pile, but I brushed it aside. Writing was my refuge, my way of making sense of the chaos around me. Soccer could wait; words were my true companions.

    As the school year unfolded, Yong and I settled into a comfortable routine. We would meet by her section after the opening ceremony, where she would wave me over with that radiant smile of hers. Mrs. Kim, Yong¡¯s mother, often packed us kimbap for lunch. If the canteen was too crowded, we¡¯d retreat to the quiet corner near the old building, where we could eat in peace, away from prying eyes.

    Those moments were our sanctuary, the world shrinking down to just us. I¡¯d watch her as she spoke, her laughter filling the space between us, and for those brief minutes, everything felt perfect. But beneath the surface, there were cracks that no amount of shared meals or stolen glances could fill.

    Yong was making friends, forming bonds with MC and Aira, two girls who quickly became our companions. They were mischievous and carefree, always pushing the boundaries of propriety with their teasing and playful jabs. One afternoon, as we sat around the old building eating kimbap, MC raised her eyebrows suggestively. ¡°So, Yong,¡± she said with a smirk, ¡°when are you and Jess going to make it official?¡±

    Yong¡¯s face flushed a deep crimson, and she mumbled, ¡°We¡¯re already pretty close, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Aira giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ¡°Oh, come on, Yong! You two are practically married.¡±

    I laughed, reaching across the table to take Yong¡¯s hand. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re right,¡± I said, squeezing her fingers gently.

    MC and Aira erupted into cheers, their laughter echoing through the empty corridors. Yong rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t hide the smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, it felt like nothing could break the spell that held us together.

    But life at school wasn¡¯t without its challenges. Yong had other admirers, boys who hovered on the edges of her orbit, drawn to her light like moths to a flame. Seongho, a basketball player with a confident stride and easy smile, was one of them. He was charming and outgoing, the kind of guy who never had trouble making friends. He confessed to Yong one day, his voice earnest and hopeful, but she turned him down gently. ¡°I¡¯ve got my eyes on someone else,¡± she said with a soft laugh.

    When Seongho asked if it was me, Yong didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Yes,¡± she said, her voice unwavering, and her classmates erupted into laughter. Seongho¡¯s face fell, his bravado crumbling under the weight of her words.

    Later, I found him sitting alone, his expression a mix of sadness and resignation. ¡°I told her how I felt,¡± he said when I approached. ¡°But she turned me down. She said she¡¯d rather be with you.¡±

    His words hit me with an unexpected force. Yong had always been the strong one, the anchor in our relationship, and hearing her defend our bond with such certainty filled me with a pride that was almost overwhelming. I patted Seongho on the shoulder, offering what comfort I could. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, man,¡± I said. ¡°I know it¡¯s tough.¡±

    He nodded, his eyes red but determined. ¡°She¡¯s lucky to have you,¡± he murmured, and for the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be someone¡¯s choice.

    Yong¡¯s involvement in the theater club intensified, and her late practices became a new routine. She¡¯d emerge tired but satisfied, her eyes sparkling with a quiet determination. One day, she told me about her dreams of becoming a pop idol. ¡°I need to be the best I can be,¡± she said, her voice filled with a resolve that was impossible to ignore.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be your biggest fan,¡± I promised, and I meant it. No matter how hard things got, I wanted to be the one cheering her on from the sidelines, my love for her unwavering.

    Also we played a lot of games like tera and read lord of the rings Gama and Vince, two of my classmates, often teased me about my relationship with Yong. "You''re one lucky guy, Jess," Gama would say with a wink. "Having a girlfriend like Yong is a dream come true."

    "I know, right?" Vince would agree. "She''s so beautiful and talented."

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    I would just smile and nod, feeling a warm glow of happiness inside.

    One day, Yong asked me to help her carry some things to her theater club rehearsal. I agreed, and as we walked down the hallway, Gama and Vince saw us.

    "Hey, can we help you with that?" Gama offered, stepping forward.

    "Sure, thanks," Yong replied.

    Gama and Vince took some of Yong''s bags, which were filled with costumes, props, and books. They carried them with ease, their laughter echoing through the hallway.

    Yong and I thanked them, and they grinned. "No problem," Gama said. "We''re happy to help."

    From that day forward, Gama and Vince became fast friends with Yong. They often joined us for lunch or after-school activities. Yong especially enjoyed playing PC games with them.

    I was grateful for their friendship. It was comforting to know that Yong had people she could rely on besides me.

    But there were moments when the pressure seemed too much. I¡¯d see her talking with Seongho during rehearsals, their conversations easy and fluid in a way that made my heart clench with an irrational jealousy. One afternoon, as we walked home, I blurted out my frustration. ¡°Do you really have to spend so much time with him?¡±

    Yong stopped, her expression softening as she reached for my hand. ¡°Jess, you know you¡¯re the one I want,¡± she said gently. ¡°No one else matters.¡±

    I wanted to believe her, and most of the time I did. But the whispers of doubt were always there, lurking in the background like shadows that wouldn¡¯t quite fade.

    As the months passed, the weight of expectations took its toll. Exams loomed over us like storm clouds, and the pressure to excel became a constant undercurrent. Yong¡¯s health, which she had always tried to downplay, began to show signs of strain. She was getting bruises more frequently, her once boundless energy flagging in ways that were hard to ignore.

    One evening, as we sat together in the library, I noticed her wince as she shifted in her seat. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked, my concern cutting through the comfortable silence.

    She nodded, brushing it off with a weak smile. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said. ¡°Just a little tired.¡±

    But I knew her better than that. The girl who had once seemed invincible was now fragile in a way that scared me. Yet she kept pushing, kept striving for a perfection that always seemed just out of reach. We spent our free time together, reading books and sharing quiet moments, but there was always an unspoken tension, a fear that we were running out of time.

    Yet, the more I held on, the more I noticed the small things¡ªthe way she seemed to tire more easily, the bruises that appeared on her arms, faint but unmistakable. I wanted to believe her excuses, that she was just clumsy or that she wasn¡¯t getting enough rest. But deep down, I knew something was wrong.

    ¡°Are you okay, Yong?¡± I asked one day, trying to keep my voice steady.

    She gave me a half-hearted smile, the kind that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Jess. Just a little tired.¡±

    Tired. That¡¯s all she ever said. But I wasn¡¯t convinced.

    Weeks passed, and Yong¡¯s enthusiasm seemed to wane, though she kept up appearances for everyone else. She still aced her quizzes, still made time for the theater club, still made me laugh with her silly impressions of our teachers. But there was a fragility to her now, something that I couldn¡¯t quite place but felt deeply.

    One day, I noticed Yong had bought a stack of romance novels. She was always reading them, lost in their worlds of love and passion. A few weeks later, she started writing her own romance novel on Weibo. I was impressed by her creativity and imagination.

    One day, we were walking through a manga shop, and Yong stopped to browse the BL section. I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as I watched her pick up a few books. ¡°You really like these, huh?¡± I asked, trying to sound casual.

    Yong nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°They¡¯re so cute!¡± she replied.

    I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I was happy to see her enjoying her new hobby.

    Yong¡¯s love for romance novels had replaced her previous obsession with video games. It was like a new ink had been added to her passion for telling stories. She also started getting into horror, reading spooky tales and watching scary movies.

    I found her new interests fascinating. It was amazing to see how she could go from one genre to another with such ease.

    One day, we were sitting together in the library, hidden in the back where no one could find us. Yong was reading ¡°Eragon,¡± marveling at how it was written by someone our age. ¡°You should write our story,¡± she said suddenly, her eyes bright with the idea. ¡°Like a romance novel. You could be the next Nicholas Sparks.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m cut out for that,¡± I replied, half-joking. But the way she looked at me, with so much belief, made me wonder if maybe I could.

    We talked about love stories, about Jaime from ¡°A Walk to Remember,¡± the kind of love that endures despite everything. Yong always wanted to be Jaime, the strong, quiet girl who touched everyone¡¯s lives. I told her that Jaime dies in the end, and she smacked my arm, pouting because I¡¯d spoiled it.

    ¡°That¡¯s not fair!¡± she said, but her laughter soon followed. ¡°Okay, then, how about we get married?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, startled by the suddenness of her suggestion.

    ¡°Not for real,¡± she added quickly. ¡°Just¡­you and me, privately. We could go to the Buddhist temple. It doesn¡¯t have to be official.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what to say. I wanted to give her everything, but this felt like stepping over a line I wasn¡¯t sure we were ready to cross. ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice light.

    But I knew, even then, that there was a weight to her words, a gravity I couldn¡¯t ignore. As we made plans for our little secret wedding, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Yong was asking for more than just a romantic gesture. She was asking for a promise, a forever that I wasn¡¯t sure we¡¯d get. And as we left the library, her hand in mine, I couldn¡¯t help but feel that time was slipping through our fingers, faster than we ever expected.

    We set out for Binondo on a crisp Saturday morning, the air filled with the sounds of bustling vendors and the scent of freshly steamed buns wafting through the narrow streets. Binondo, the historic Chinatown in Manila, was a vibrant tapestry of East Asian culture, and for Yongsun, it was a gateway to a part of her heritage she had never fully explored.

    Yong had always been curious about the Buddhist temple nestled in the heart of this district. Her family, devout Buddhists, spoke of it with reverence, yet Yong had never been. Today, we were treating this as our first real date, an exploration of culture, faith, and a bit of adventure. I could see the excitement in her eyes, a spark that made her look more alive than she had in weeks.

    ¡°This place is incredible,¡± Yong whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd. Her eyes darted from one shop to another, taking in the red lanterns strung overhead, the dragon motifs that adorned the walls, and the vibrant array of fruits and incense sticks sold at every corner. ¡°It¡¯s like stepping into another world.¡±

    I smiled, glad to see her so animated. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s got a magic of its own.¡±

    We made our way to the Buddhist temple, a small yet intricately designed structure with golden statues and a serene courtyard. The temple was quiet, a stark contrast to the busy streets outside. Monks in saffron robes moved about in silent meditation, their presence lending a sense of peace to the place. Yong¡¯s face lit up with a mix of awe and respect as she took it all in.

    ¡°This is beautiful,¡± she said, her voice hushed as if not to disturb the sanctity of the space. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to see a temple like this.¡±

    She knelt down, mimicking the worshippers around us, bowing slightly before one of the altars. I stood beside her, my hands clasped together, offering a silent prayer of my own. When she finished, Yong turned to me, her expression soft.

    ¡°Jess, can we¡­ you know, do it here? Like, our own little wedding?¡±

    My heart pounded at her words. I loved Yong more than I could ever express, but I also respected the teachings that the monks had shared with me during my occasional visits here. I had learned that marriage, especially at our age, was not taken lightly within these walls.

    ¡°Yong,¡± I began gently, ¡°I¡¯d love that more than anything, but child marriage is forbidden in Buddhism. It¡¯s in the Five Precepts¡ªno sexual misconduct.¡±

    She looked at me, her expression thoughtful. ¡°Then we won¡¯t get married here if it would make you uncomfortable. I just¡­ I want something special with you.¡±

    I took her hand, squeezing it lightly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be disrespectful to this place or its people. The monks here taught me a lot about kindness, about patience. This is their sacred space.¡±

    She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. ¡°We¡¯ll do it someday, then. When it¡¯s right.¡±

    I leaned in closer, my forehead resting against hers. ¡°Yes, someday.¡±

    We left the temple and wandered through Binondo, soaking in the sights and sounds. Yong¡¯s laughter was like music, echoing against the old stone buildings as we explored. We stopped at a street food stall, where she insisted on trying everything¡ªfrom siomai to hopia. She beamed with each bite, savoring the rich flavors and the simple joy of being out, just the two of us.

    ¡°I love this,¡± she said between bites, her face glowing. ¡°It¡¯s like a whole new adventure.¡±

    ¡°You know, Binondo has a lot of stories,¡± I said, pointing to the old colonial buildings that stood tall among the newer shops. ¡°Like Binondo Church¡ªpeople say if you get married there, you¡¯ll be together forever. It¡¯s kind of a superstition.¡±

    Her eyes lit up, and she nudged me playfully. ¡°Is that so? Let¡¯s go there!¡±

    We walked to Binondo Church, its grand facade a mix of stone and brick, aged yet majestic. Inside, the atmosphere was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of candle wax and the murmurs of prayer. I guided Yong to the front, where she knelt and watched as I made the sign of the cross, a gesture she tried to mimic.

    ¡°How do you pray here?¡± she asked, her voice soft, almost reverent.

    I smiled, taking her hands in mine. ¡°It¡¯s like talking to someone who¡¯s always listening. You just say what¡¯s in your heart.¡±

    Yong closed her eyes, her lips moving silently. I didn¡¯t ask what she prayed for; I didn¡¯t need to. When she opened her eyes, they were glistening with unshed tears. She turned to me, her gaze intense.

    ¡°If gods are real,¡± she said quietly, ¡°I hope they recognize my love for you, Jess. You¡¯re my silent hero, you know that? You¡¯ve stuck by me through everything.¡±

    Her words hit me harder than I expected. I pulled her close, my arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. ¡°They will, Yong. I promise.¡±

    She pulled out a small box from her bag¡ªa promise ring we had bought earlier, a simple silver band with a tiny stone in the middle. She slipped it onto my finger, her hands trembling slightly.

    ¡°This is our first vow,¡± she said, her voice quivering with emotion. ¡°A promise to always be there for each other.¡±

    I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. I placed a kiss on her forehead, lingering for a moment, letting the warmth of the gesture speak for all the words I couldn¡¯t find. As I pulled away, I saw her lips part, her breath hitching as if she wanted to say something more.

    I leaned in, ready to kiss her lips, but she gently pressed a finger to my mouth. ¡°Some other time,¡± she whispered, her cheeks flushed. ¡°I¡¯m not ready yet.¡±

    I nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°I¡¯ll wait, Yong. I¡¯ll wait as long as you need.¡±

    She smiled, that soft, shy smile that I loved so much. ¡°Thank you, Jess.¡±

    We walked out of the church, hand in hand, the promise ring glinting in the sunlight. In that moment, it didn¡¯t matter that we weren¡¯t officially married or that we were too young for any grand commitments. We had made a vow, a simple promise to each other, and in our hearts, that was enough.

    As we made our way back home, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over Binondo. We were quiet, content in the shared silence, each step feeling like a new beginning. I glanced over at Yong, her eyes fixed on the horizon, and I knew that whatever lay ahead, we would face it together.

    ¡°Kinda married, huh?¡± I teased, squeezing her hand.

    She laughed, her voice light and carefree. ¡°Sort of. And you better keep your promise, Jess.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± I said, meaning every word. ¡°Always.¡±

 Chapter 4

    As we walked out of the church, I couldn''t help but think back to our elementary days. "Remember when we used to skip mass just to spend time together?" I asked, a smile tugging at my lips.

    Yong''s eyes widened in surprise. "How could I forget? You''d always promise to attend a service for me, and I''d sing you a song in broken English."

    "Your voice wasn''t half bad," I replied, teasingly.

    She scoffed, playfully batting my arm. "Oh, please. It was nothing serious."

    "To me, it was everything," I insisted. "I was so lucky to hear your voice develop and watch you grow."

    Yong''s face softened. "I never thought you''d appreciate it so much."

    "It''s not just your voice," I said, taking her hand. "It''s everything about you. You''re the bravest, kindest angel I know."

    A sadness washed over her face. "But angels go to heaven, don''t they?"

    "Not if they have a guardian to watch over them," I replied. "I''d go to hell and back for you, Yongsun."

    She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and affection. "In Buddhism, we believe in reincarnation. Do you think you''d wait for me in another life?"

    "I would wait for you forever," I said, my voice steady.

    We hailed a jeepney and headed towards Roxas Boulevard, a popular spot for watching plays. The jeepney was a cultural shock for Yong, who was used to the comfort of taxis. We squeezed into the front, our small legs dangling as we clung to the metal bars. The sight of children hanging from the front entrance was both fascinating and frightening for Yong.

    After watching the Swan Princess at the CCP Theater, Yong was eager to explore more of Manila. She loved the vibrant colors and the energy of the city, and she was fascinated by the idea of watching a play every week.

    "It would be hard," I warned her. "We''d have to save up for weeks, and your grandma might get angry if you waste your monthly allowance."

    "We could just elope," she joked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

    "That''s a terrible idea," I replied, laughing. "We''d need an excuse."

    "We could tell Aira and MC that we went to their place," she suggested.

    "That might work," I said, considering her idea. "But we need to go home soon. Mrs. Kim told me to be back by 8 PM."

    Yong reluctantly agreed. We grabbed a quick bite at Jollibee before heading home. As we ate, she asked if we could visit a Korean restaurant next time.

    "Definitely," I replied. "We''ll also explore Manila Bay and some of the museums."

    Yong''s face lit up with excitement. "That sounds amazing!"

    As we rode home, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of peace and contentment. Yong was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was grateful for every moment we spent together.

    this made her happy.

    I knew Mrs. Kim suspected something was going on between Yong and me, so I decided to come clean. I told her about our date, our visit to Binondo, and the play we had watched. I assured her that I would continue to take care of Yong, just as I had promised.

    She questioned me about how far we had gone, and I admitted that we had not revealed our secret marriage or vow. To my surprise, she was pleased. She offered us money to go on more dates, explaining that she was busy and couldn''t always accompany Yong.

    Weeks passed, and Mr. Lee, Yong''s grandfather, noticed a change in her. She was blooming, and he teased her about my influence. Yong blushed and admitted that she was falling for me.

    Mr. Lee joked about attending our wedding, but insisted that it should be a traditional Korean wedding. Yong and I exchanged excited glances. We knew this was a significant step towards our future together.

    Mr. Kim encouraged me to save up for a dowry and to study hard. My father, ever the supportive figure, agreed and urged me to grow up faster. He wanted grandchildren, a desire that both confused and motivated me.

    Mr. Kim informed me that Yong''s parents would be visiting the following year. He asked me to "look the part" and promised to teach me Korean etiquette and basic phrases. My father, a former UST baseball player, offered to train me at the gym. He wanted me to be physically fit and to look the part for Yong''s parents.

    The pressure was on, but I was determined to succeed. I couldn''t let Yong down, and I knew that this was an important step in our relationship. My father taught me about scientific lifting, including diets, calories, and mesocycles. He had won championships in his youth, and while I didn''t understand all the technical terms, I was eager to learn.

    When I realized that Yong''s health was fragile, I became even more determined to get in shape. I wanted to be strong for her, to protect her and support her in every way possible. I joined a commercial gym and dedicated myself to my workouts.

    As I lifted weights and followed my father''s strict training regimen, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of purpose. I was doing this for Yong, for our love, and for our future together.

    Yong''s health continued to deteriorate, despite our efforts to minimize her physical activity. Mrs. Kim wrote a note to her teacher, requesting permission for Yong to reduce her workload. The teacher, understanding the situation, agreed.

    To alleviate some of the burden, I offered to help Yong with her chores. She was grateful for my support, and it allowed her to continue participating in the theater club.

    The school had a diverse student body, including many foreigners. Yong fit in well with her classmates, who were mostly from middle-income families and had been scholars since elementary school. Unlike her previous school, violence was not tolerated here. After school, the students often hung out at nearby McDonald''s or malls.

    I was surprised to find that I wasn''t bullied this time. Many of the jocks were actually my friends, as I often let them copy my homework.

    Yong scolded me for being so lenient, but I explained that we lifted weights together and played video games. She was pleased to see that I was making friends.

    I was supportive of Yong''s decision to take tailoring and fashion as her elective. I often accompanied her to the workshops, and I became fast friends with some of the students in the theater club, including Yukiko and Jessa.

    Yong had a dream of becoming an idol. She often spoke about it with excitement, and I was always there to encourage her.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    One of Yong''s challenges was her tendency to laugh or make silly faces during serious scenes. I gently reminded her that it could ruin the performance. She promised to try harder to be more serious.

    When rehearsals began, Yong underwent a remarkable transformation. Her clumsy persona disappeared, replaced by a confident and talented performer. I was amazed by her ability to take on challenging roles and sing with such passion.

    Yukiko and Jessa were also talented, making the competition for the main female role fierce. The theater club needed a new play to attract audiences for their fall show, and they turned to the writing club for help. I was a member of the writing club, and Mr. Mathias, our teacher, entrusted the project to me and my friends. He believed that this would be a valuable opportunity to improve our writing skills.

    Seongho was already cast as the male lead, and they needed two female leads. They asked me to help them develop the love lines and characters. I was excited about the challenge and eager to contribute to the project.

    The writing club was abuzz with excitement. Justin, Kate, and Anna, our presidents, had proposed a collaborative project: a screenplay for a romance film inspired by classic stories like Twilight, A Walk to Remember, and Romeo and Juliet. The girls from the theater club were eager to contribute their ideas, and I was excited to be part of the project.

    We spent countless hours brainstorming, watching films, and reading books. Anna insisted that our screenplay should be accessible to a wide audience, a simple yet powerful story that would resonate with people our age. Justin suggested a plot based on A Walk to Remember, but with a twist: a Korean man and a Filipino woman separated during the 1950s war. It was a unique concept, and the diverse backgrounds of our group made it even more intriguing.

    Yong was determined to land the main female role, but she faced competition from Sung Hyo, another talented actress who also had feelings for Seongho. Seongho, however, was clearly interested in Yongsun, and I was her partner.

    While I didn''t have a personal stake in who got the part, I wanted Yong to succeed without any complications. I knew she had the talent and the passion, and I wanted her to shine.

    As we worked on the screenplay, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of connection to the story. The theme of love overcoming adversity resonated with me, and I poured my heart and soul into the project.

    Sung Hyo had always been friends with Yongsun, but their relationship had become strained after Seongho''s confession a few months back. Yongsun had assured Sung Hyo that her feelings for Seongho were nothing serious, but Sung Hyo was hurt and angry. She loved Seongho and couldn''t understand why Yongsun was trying to come between them.

    Seongho was caught in the middle, torn between his feelings for Yongsun and his growing respect for Sung Hyo. He knew that Sung Hyo was coming on too strong, but he couldn''t deny that he was attracted to her.

    Teenage love was a complex and confusing thing. Sung Hyo, with her beauty and charm, had always been the center of attention. She had never had to struggle for a boy''s affection, and she didn''t understand why she was having so much trouble with Seongho.

    Meanwhile, I had been working on a short story with the writing club. We were inspired by the love story of Jae-Ho and Maria and wanted to create something similar. We brainstormed ideas, discussed plot points, and developed the characters.

    As the story began to take shape, we realized that we needed a song to accompany it. We wanted to create a musical, and we knew that we needed help from Yongsun and Sung Hyo.

    I approached them with the idea, and they were both excited to be involved. We spent hours discussing the story, the characters, and the tone of the song. Yongsun and Sung Hyo, despite their differences, worked well together. Their combined talents brought a unique perspective to the project.

    As the song began to take shape, I could feel the tension between Yongsun and Sung Hyo dissipate. They were both passionate about the project, and their shared love for music and storytelling brought them closer together.

    I knew that this was an opportunity for them to reconcile their differences. I arranged a private meeting between them, hoping that they could talk things out.

    Sung Hyo apologized for her behavior, admitting that she had been jealous and possessive. Yongsun accepted her apology and assured her that she didn''t have any hard feelings.

    As they talked, they realized that their friendship was more important than their rivalry. They vowed to support each other, both in their personal lives and in their artistic endeavors.

    With their friendship restored, Yongsun and Sung Hyo worked together to create the perfect song for the musical. Their voices blended beautifully, and their lyrics captured the essence of the story.

    the story went like this

    Eun-ju, a young Korean woman, had survived the horrors of the Korean War. She had lost her family, her home, and her innocence. But amidst the ruins of her life, she had found a glimmer of hope: a love that had transcended the boundaries of war and culture.

    Years later, Eun-ju became a renowned actress, her talent a testament to her resilience. She used her platform to raise awareness about the suffering caused by war and to advocate for peace.

    One day, a former Filipino soldier named David attended one of Eun-ju''s performances. He had been stationed in Korea during the war and had met Eun-ju in a small village. Their love story had been cut short by the conflict, but the memory of her had never faded.

    As Eun-ju sang, David was transported back to the war-torn days. Her voice, filled with emotion and resilience, reminded him of the strength and courage he had witnessed in her. When she finished, he approached her backstage.

    Eun-ju was surprised to see him. Their eyes met, and a wave of recognition washed over them. They embraced, their tears mingling with the applause.

    David and Eun-ju spent the following days together, catching up on their lives. Eun-ju revealed that she had been battling cancer for years. She knew her time was limited, and she wanted to spend her remaining days with the man she had loved all her life.

    David was devastated by the news. He vowed to be by her side until the end. They traveled together, visiting places they had always dreamed of going. They shared stories, laughter, and tears.

    As Eun-ju''s condition worsened, David became her constant companion. He cared for her, comforted her, and loved her unconditionally. He sang to her, just as she had sung to him so many years ago.

    One evening, as the sun was setting, Eun-ju took David''s hand. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

    David smiled, his heart heavy with sorrow. "I love you, Eun-ju."

    Eun-ju closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face. She took her last breath, her hand still clasped in David''s.

    In the days that followed, David mourned the loss of his beloved Eun-ju. He visited her grave every day, leaving flowers and offering prayers. He carried her memory with him, a constant reminder of the love they had shared.

    Eun-ju''s death was a profound loss, but it also served as a testament to the enduring power of human connection. Their love story was a beacon of hope in a world scarred by war and suffering.

    With the musical just a month away, the group intensified their rehearsals. I was filled with pride as I watched Yongsun and Sung Hyo shine on stage. However, Yongsun''s health was beginning to deteriorate. One evening, after a particularly demanding rehearsal, she leaned on my shoulder, her voice barely a whisper.

    "I''m so tired," she confessed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Can you carry me?"

    I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. "Of course, love. I''ll be here for you, no matter what."

    She looked up at me, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I love you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

    As I carried her to her room, I couldn''t help but think about how much she reminded me of the main character in A Walk to Remember. She was strong, resilient, and fiercely independent. But even the strongest among us need someone to lean on.

    One day, as we were walking through the park, Yongsun turned to me and asked a question that had been weighing on her mind. "If we were to separate, would you look for me?"

    I took her hands in mine and looked into her eyes. "I would only love you in this lifetime and in the next ones to follow," I replied, quoting a cheesy line from a romance novel.

    She smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I want to make a list of things I want to do with you. So if we ever separate, I can come back and do them."

    I nodded, my heart filled with warmth. "We''ll think about it, slowly."

    Yongsun''s face fell. "My family might take me back to Korea. It might be a long time before I return."

    I squeezed her hands tightly. "I can wait. We''re married after all."

    She laughed, her eyes filled with love. "If I become a popular idol, will you remember me?"

    I smiled. "I''d never forget the one I love. But you need to rest now. You''re exhausted."

    She nodded, her eyes closing. "I''m going to use my last energy to do something," she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

    Before she could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I felt a rush of warmth spread through me.

    "We need to go home now," I told the others, my voice filled with a newfound determination.

    I carried Yongsun on my back, her head resting on my shoulder. I lifted our backpacks and walked towards her home. As I laid her down in her bed, I called my mom to let her know that we would be spending the night together.

    As I watched Yongsun drift off to sleep, I knew that our journey together was far from over. We had faced countless challenges, but our love had remained steadfast. I was determined to be by her side, no matter what the future held.

 Chapter 5

    The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated Yongsun''s room, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. As I carried her to her bed, I noticed how her face was flushed and her breathing was labored. Concern etched itself on my features.

    "You should rest," I said, gently tucking her in. "I''ll cook something for you."

    She nodded weakly, her eyes closing.

    I went to the kitchen and prepared a simple meal: bacon and cheesedogs. It was something comforting and familiar, a taste of home. I also brought her some medicine to help ease her symptoms.

    When I returned to her room, she was still asleep. I sat by her side, watching her chest rise and fall. I couldn''t help but feel a pang of worry. She had been so strong, always putting others before herself. I hoped this illness wouldn''t take too much from her.

    Mrs. Kim and Mr. Lee had mentioned they would be home late. I called my mother to let her know I would be staying the night. She agreed, her voice filled with concern.

    "Make sure she gets plenty of rest," she said. "And don''t let her watch too much TV."

    I promised her I would.

    When Yongsun woke up, she asked me to play her grandpa''s Beatles CDs. The familiar tunes filled the room, a soothing balm for her troubled mind. As she listened, her eyes closed and her breathing became more even.

    We slept together in her room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm, inviting atmosphere. It was the first time I had spent the night in her home, and I was struck by how different it felt. The room was cozy and girly, decorated with posters of popular Korean pop idols from the early 2000s. There were also countless photocards scattered around, a testament to her love for these artists.

    It was a far cry from the minimalist aesthetic she had once preferred. I couldn''t help but smile at the transformation.

    The Beatles song "Yesterday" by Paul McCartney played in the background. As I listened, I was inspired to write a poem for Yongsun. I knew she would appreciate it, and I hoped it would bring her some comfort.

    I took out my notebook and began to write. The words flowed effortlessly, inspired by the music and my love for her.

    A Silent Love Song

    Yong-sun Kim,

    Though oceans roar and languages divide,

    These strung-together words are the only bridge I can build.

    Your laughter, a melody that transcends tongues,

    Fills my days with sunshine, a warmth I understand perfectly.

    Your quirks, like constellations in a foreign sky,

    Guide me, their beauty a universal language.

    My heart, once a barren desert,

    Now blooms with flowers watered by your voice,

    A sound that speaks straight to my soul.

    This message may be a paper boat lost at sea,

    But if by some miracle it reaches you,

    Know that my purpose is fulfilled.

    Like you conquer your challenges, I''ll conquer mine.

    Working, striving, so that one day, perhaps in another life, we can share a language, A lifetime, hand in hand. But until that bridge is built, Until I can stand beside you and speak your words, Let this be the only phrase you need understand: Yong-sun, I love you.

    The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated Yongsun''s room, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. As I sat by her side, watching her sleep, I couldn''t help but notice a small scrapbook titled "My Silent Love Song" dedicated to me. Curiosity piqued, I reached for it, but hesitated. I wanted her to give it to me when she was ready.

    A photo of us playing on the riverbank, our young faces filled with laughter, caught my eye. I remembered the day vividly. We had been racing paper boats, and Yongsun had asked me why they always sank.

    "Because the water absorbs the boat," I had explained, "it becomes denser and makes it sink."

    She had compared the boat to her love for me, asking if my love would sink if she gave it to me too much.

    "Those things are different," I had replied. "You can love me hardest and I won''t falter."

    The room was filled with reminders of our shared memories. There were photos of us on vacations, at school events, and just hanging out. Each one brought a smile to my face.

    I turned to the newly bought MP3 player. I knew Yongsun loved to collect music, and I was curious about her latest finds. I pressed play and was greeted by the familiar sounds of Lee Hyori''s "Eternal Love" and Baby Vox''s "Coincidence"

    As I listened, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of nostalgia. These songs had been popular when we were younger, and they brought back fond memories.

    I glanced at Yongsun, her face peaceful in sleep. I reached out and gently traced her cheek with my finger. I loved her more than words could say.

    Suddenly, she stirred, murmuring, "Don''t leave yet. Stay with me a little longer."

    I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her. "I won''t go anywhere," I whispered.

    As we lay together in the darkness, I couldn''t shake the warmth that spread through me after her kiss. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a significant step in our relationship. I knew I was falling deeper in love with her every day.

    Yongsun murmured something in her sleep, and I leaned in to hear her. "When the time is right, I''ll have it recorded for all the world to see," she said.

    I knew she was referring to our kiss, and my heart raced with excitement and fear. I was terrified of what her family might think, but my love for her trumped my fear. If I could stay with her like this, I would make every moment stop.

    I felt a soft touch on my arm. Mrs. Kim was standing there, a knowing smile on her face. She turned on the lights for a moment, then turned them off again. I knew she had seen us, and I braced myself for her reaction.

    The morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink as I woke up, eager to spend the day with Yongsun. I had planned to take her to the mall and buy her some roses, a small gesture of my love and affection.

    As I wandered into the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of kimchi fried rice and fried eggs filled the air. Mrs. Kim was hard at work, her movements graceful and efficient.

    "Did you sleep well?" she asked, turning to me with a warm smile.

    "I did," I replied, my heart filled with gratitude for her hospitality.

    "How is Yongsun?" she inquired, her voice filled with concern.

    I told her about how fatigued Yongsun had been the previous night and how I had had to carry her home. To my surprise, she laughed.

    "You must be growing stronger," she said, her eyes twinkling.

    I smiled and admitted that I had been working out regularly with my father. "I have to be strong to lift my loved ones up," I said, my voice filled with determination.

    Mrs. Kim nodded approvingly. "You''re becoming more determined and ambitious," she said. "I''m proud of you."

    She paused for a moment, then asked, "What do you value most in Yongsun?"

    I didn''t hesitate. "I cherish her smile," I replied. "I will do everything in my power to protect it."

    Mrs. Kim nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "You must do so," she said. "She is a precious young woman."

    Then, she asked me a question that caught me off guard. "Would you like to go on a date with Yongsun today?"

    I was taken aback but quickly recovered. "Of course," I replied, my heart pounding with excitement.

    "I''ll take you to the mall," she said. "You can buy her some bracelets and pendants. We can also go watch ''Lord of the Rings.''"

    I laughed. "Of course, anything you want."

    Mr. Kim pulled me aside, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, there''s a prom coming up at school," he said. "You should take Yongsun."

    I smiled, my heart racing. "I would if she would allow it."

    He chuckled. "I think she would. Why don''t you try on this suit? It''s the one I wore when I was young."

    With a mix of excitement and nervousness, I slipped into the suit. It fit like a glove, the fabric soft against my skin. Mr. Kim beamed with pride. "It looks good on you," he said. "Reminds me of myself when I was your age."

    He shared a story about when he and Mrs. Kim had gone dancing in that very suit. As he described the ballroom, the music, and the feeling of being young and in love, I couldn''t help but feel a pang of longing. I wanted to experience something like that with Yongsun.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Mrs. Kim listened intently, her eyes filled with nostalgia. When Mr. Kim finished, she turned to me and asked, "Would you like to dance with me, young man?"

    I hesitated, not sure if I was up to the task. But then I remembered how much Yongsun loved to dance, and I knew I had to do this for her.

    As we danced, I felt a connection to Mr. and Mrs. Kim that I had never experienced before. It was as if we were transported back in time, sharing a moment of pure joy and happiness.

    Mrs. Kim then asked if the suit would fit Yongsun. I laughed. "I think it might be a bit big for her," I said.

    She chuckled. "Well, we can always alter it. But I think it would be a beautiful memory for her."

    As we continued to dance, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of hope for the future. I imagined taking Yongsun to the prom, dancing with her under the twinkling lights. It was a dream come true.

    they shared a moment with me when they waltzed during 1950s

    The soft strains of a waltz filled the air, a gentle melody that seemed to transport Mr. Lee and Mrs. Kim back to a simpler time. They were dancing in a grand ballroom, the parquet floor gleaming under the crystal chandeliers. The year was 1950, and Korea was on the brink of war, but for this brief moment, they were lost in the rhythm of the dance.

    Mrs. Kim, in a flowing gown of shimmering silk, rested her head on Mr. Lee''s shoulder. His strong arms held her close, a comforting presence in the uncertain world around them. They had been dancing together since they were teenagers, their love story a testament to the enduring power of human connection.

    As they twirled and swayed, their eyes met, filled with a love that transcended time and circumstance. They were young and carefree, their future filled with endless possibilities. Little did they know that the war would soon shatter their idyllic world.

    The music faded, and they paused, their foreheads touching. "Remember when we first danced here?" Mr. Lee asked, his voice filled with nostalgia.

    Mrs. Kim smiled. "How could I forget? You tripped over your own feet and almost stepped on my toes."

    Mr. Lee chuckled. "I was so nervous. I didn''t know if you would ever dance with me again."

    "I was always going to dance with you," Mrs. Kim replied, her voice soft. "You were the only one who could make me feel so special."

    They danced a few more songs, their movements graceful and effortless. As the night wore on, the music grew louder, and the ballroom filled with laughter and chatter. But for Mr. Lee and Mrs. Kim, it was a world of their own, a place where they could escape the worries and fears of the outside world.

    As they left the ballroom, hand in hand, they looked at each other with a love that was as timeless as the music they had danced to. They knew that their love would endure, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

    yongsun woke up surprised what had transpired she asks me why am  I wearing a suit.

    I told her so I can dance with her she took my hand and we began waltzing mr kim played the beatles vinyl and we danced to michelle.

    she was extremely happy she told me well get to watch to modern songs during prom.

    I told her i like old music more she told me i''m an oldhead.

    we vate our breakfast and we got bour lessons in making scrambled egg

    "Yongsun, come here," Mrs. Kim called out from the kitchen. "I''m going to teach you how to cook scrambled eggs."

    Yongsun and I followed her into the kitchen, our eyes wide with anticipation. Mrs. Kim was a skilled cook, and we were both eager to learn from her.

    "First, crack the eggs into a bowl," she instructed, demonstrating with a practiced hand. "Then, add a pinch of salt and pepper."

    Yongsun watched intently as Mrs. Kim whisked the eggs together. "Now, heat a pan over medium heat," she continued. "Add a tablespoon of butter."

    As the butter melted, Mrs. Kim poured the eggs into the pan. "Keep stirring constantly," she said. "You don''t want the eggs to get too dry."

    After a few minutes, the eggs were cooked to perfection, a golden yellow scramble. Mrs. Kim served them on a plate with a side of toast.

    "Try it," she encouraged.

    Yongsun took a bite and smiled. "It''s delicious!" she exclaimed.

    "You did a great job," Mrs. Kim praised her. "Now, why don''t you try making some for your boyfriend?"

    Yongsun blushed. "I''ll make him scrambled eggs when we''re married," she said, her voice soft.

    I smiled, my heart warming at her words. I couldn''t wait for that day to come.

    "Yongsun, we''re going to the mall," I announced, excitement bubbling within me.

    Her eyes lit up, a sparkle of anticipation dancing in their depths. "Can we also go shopping for new clothes?" she asked, her voice filled with eagerness.

    "Of course," I replied, my heart overflowing with love. "And I have another surprise for you."

    Her curiosity was piqued. "What is it?" she inquired, her eyes wide with wonder.

    "We''ll talk about it later," I teased, enjoying her suspense.

    "Don''t tease me too much," she pleaded, playfully swatting my arm.

    I laughed, my heart light and carefree. "I promise, it''s a good surprise."

    She pouted, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips.

    "When are we leaving?" she asked, her impatience evident.

    Mrs. Kim, who had been listening to our conversation, interjected, "We''ll leave at twelve. The mall isn''t far."

    Yongsun nodded, her excitement growing. As we prepared to leave, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of anticipation. I was looking forward to spending the day with the woman I loved, and I knew it would be unforgettable.

    The mall was bustling with activity, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the gentle hum of background music. Mrs. Kim, ever the practical one, led us straight to the grocery store. Her mission: to gather the ingredients for Budae Jjigae, a hearty Korean stew that was a family favorite.

    I pushed the cart, my arms laden with bags of mushrooms, ramen noodles, and other essential ingredients. Yongsun, ever the curious one, wandered off to explore the produce section. She returned a few minutes later, clutching a handful of colorful vegetables.

    As we loaded the groceries into the car, Mrs. Kim turned to us with a mischievous grin. "Now, let''s have some fun," she said.

    We headed to the movie theater and purchased tickets for the animated film "Up." The story of a grumpy old man and a young boy on a whimsical adventure was sure to bring a smile to our faces.

    As we waited for the movie to start, we grabbed a bite to eat at a nearby food court. Yongsun ordered a cheeseburger and fries, while I opted for a spicy chicken sandwich.

    The movie was a delightful mix of humor, adventure, and heartwarming emotion. Yongsun couldn''t contain her laughter during the comedic scenes, and her eyes welled up with tears during the more poignant moments.

    "I want a dog," she declared as we walked out of the theater.

    I smiled. "We''ll save up for one," I promised.

    Our next stop was a music store. Mrs. Kim insisted on paying for a new guitar for Yongsun, who had been practicing diligently. As she strummed the strings and sang a few notes, the store owner''s eyes widened in admiration.

    "You have a beautiful voice," he said. "You should consider pursuing a career in music."

    Yongsun blushed, flattered by his praise.

    Mrs. Kim decided it was time for a massage, so she dropped us off at the mall''s spa. Yongsun and I wandered around, enjoying the freedom to explore without a chaperone.

    I bought Yongsun a cheap bracelet with the words "I love you" engraved on it. She bought me a matching bracelet, a symbol of our growing bond.

    We also stopped by a flower shop, and I couldn''t resist buying her a single red rose. As I handed it to her, I told her, "You''re the most beautiful Korean girl in Manila."

    She blushed, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "That''s because I haven''t seen many," she replied playfully.

    As we sat on a bench, watching the people go by, I recited the poem I had written for her. She listened intently, her eyes filled with emotion. When I finished, she looked at me with a mixture of love and admiration.

    "Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I love you too."

    I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. In that moment, I knew that our love was stronger than anything that could come between us.

    As we wandered through the bustling mall, Yongsun''s eyes sparkled with excitement. She was a whirlwind of energy, pulling me from one store to the next, her laughter echoing through the corridors.

    "I want to complete some challenges," she announced, her voice filled with determination.

    "Like what?" I asked, curious.

    She thought for a moment. "Like singing in front of a stage, making my own song, completing a challenge, and... being stuck on a deserted island with you," she added, a mischievous glint in her eye.

    I laughed. "That last one sounds a bit extreme, don''t you think?"

    "It would be hard," she admitted. "But I know I can do it. And you''ll support me, right?"

    "Of course," I replied, my heart swelling with love. "You''re my girl, after all."

    We walked hand in hand, our fingers intertwined. Yongsun pulled out a notebook from her bag. "I''m going to list everything here," she said. "So I won''t forget."

    I nodded, smiling. "Okay, let''s do it."

    As we wandered from store to store, we scribbled down ideas. She wanted to learn how to play the piano, try rock climbing, and even learn a new language. I was impressed by her ambition and determination.

    "Can you carry me on your back again?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

    I laughed. "I can get used to this," I replied, scooping her up and hoisting her onto my back.

    "You''re getting stronger," she commented. "Be strong for me, okay?"

    I squeezed her legs, reassuring her. "I will."

    When we finally arrived at the mall''s massage place, Mrs. Kim was waiting for us. "Yongsun, come on down," she called out.

    Yongsun pouted. "I don''t want to," she whined.

    I chuckled and carried her to the massage parlor. As I handed her over to the masseuse, I couldn''t help but feel a pang of sadness. I knew she was tired, but I wanted to spend every moment with her.

    When we returned home, Mrs. Kim had prepared a hearty meal of Budae Jjigae. The rich, savory broth was filled with a variety of ingredients, including sausages, kimchi, and ramen noodles. Yongsun and I devoured our plates, our hunger sated by the delicious food.

    As we sat together, chatting and laughing, I felt a sense of peace and contentment. I was surrounded by the people I loved, and I knew that everything would be okay.

    The days turned into weeks, and Yongsun''s health continued to improve. She had begun to exercise more regularly and was following a healthier diet. Her energy levels had increased, and she was able to participate in more activities.

    One evening, as we were sitting on the porch, watching the sunset, Yongsun turned to me and said, "I''ve been thinking about our challenges."

    I smiled. "Tell me about it."

    "I''ve decided to start with learning how to play the piano," she said. "I''ve already signed up for lessons."

    I was impressed. "That''s great, Yongsun. I''m so proud of you."

    She blushed. "I want to make you proud," she replied.

    As the weeks turned into months, Yongsun''s progress was remarkable. She was a natural-born singer, and her voice was filled with emotion and passion. She wrote her own songs, pouring her heart and soul into every lyric.

    She also began to challenge herself physically. She took up rock climbing, and her strength and endurance improved significantly.

    One day, Yongsun approached me with a mischievous grin. "Remember that challenge about being stuck on a deserted island with you?" she asked.

    I laughed. "I thought you''d forgotten about that."

    "Not at all," she replied. "I''ve been thinking about it a lot. And I''ve come up with a plan."

    She leaned in and whispered, "Let''s go camping."

    My heart skipped a beat. "You''re serious?" I asked.

    "Absolutely," she replied. "It''ll be like being on a deserted island, but with a lot more food and comfort."

    I couldn''t help but smile. I was excited about the adventure, but I was also a little nervous. Camping wasn''t something I was used to.

    "Don''t worry," Yongsun said, noticing my hesitation. "I''ll take care of everything."

    And so, we packed our bags and headed for the mountains. We spent the next few days hiking, swimming, and exploring the natural beauty of the wilderness. Yongsun was in her element, her love for nature shining through.

    As we sat by the campfire one evening, watching the stars twinkle above, Yongsun turned to me and said, "I''m so glad we did this."

    I agreed. "It''s been amazing," I replied. "I''m so proud of everything you''ve accomplished."

    Yongsun smiled. "I couldn''t have done it without you," she said. "You''ve been my biggest supporter."

    I reached out and took her hand. "I''ll always be here for you," I said. "No matter what."

 Chapter 6

    The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the forest. Yong and I sat on a fallen log, the remnants of our campfire crackling softly. The air was crisp, filled with the sweet scent of pine and the distant hoot of an owl.

    "I still haven''t decided what to put on my to-do list," Yong admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Her gaze was fixed on the flickering flames, a thoughtful expression on her face.

    "Maybe we can brainstorm together," I suggested, reaching for her hand. She turned to me, her eyes sparkling.

    Our post-holiday return to school was marked by the exuberant reunion with MC and Aira. They fawned over Robert Pattinson''s portrayal of Edward Cullen in the Twilight series, their eyes filled with dreamy adoration.

    I couldn''t resist sharing a joke about Tyler''s truck, but their laughter soon turned to disapproving glares. Aira was a staunch Edward fan, while MC preferred Jacob. Yongsun, ever the contrarian, dismissed them both, declaring her allegiance to Dracula. But I knew her true heart belonged to Taylor Lautner, the muscular actor who brought Jacob to life.

    Intrigued by their enthusiasm, Yong borrowed the Twilight books from them. To my surprise, she insisted that I read them too, demanding a detailed plot summary. We even watched the movies together, leaving me no choice but to be honest.

    When she caught me pouting, Yong teased, "You liked the Dracula we saw on HBO, the one with Keanu Reeves as Jonathan Harker."

    I was taken aback. How did she know that?

    "Because you wouldn''t stop talking about it," MC chimed in, her eyes twinkling.

    Over lunch, Yong approached me with a thoughtful expression. "I can''t think of anything to put on my to-do list," she confessed. "I don''t want it to be just another checklist. I want it to be challenging."

    "Maybe we should start with simple things and gradually make them more difficult," I suggested.

    "That''s a good idea," Yong agreed. "Let''s start with a hundred."

    I raised an eyebrow. "A hundred? That''s a lot."

    "How about thirty?" she countered, her eyes sparkling with determination.

    "Twenty," I insisted, trying to bargain.

    "No ifs. And no deserted island or camping trips count," Yong declared firmly.

    "Fine, your rules," I conceded, amused by her stubbornness.

    "Challenge number one is for you to create the to-do list," Yong announced.

    "Why does it have to be my list?" I asked, curious.

    "Because I want the person I love most to do it for me," she replied, her voice soft.

    A sudden thought occurred to me. "What if we give each other endearment names? I''ve already thought of one for you, but I''m not sure if you''ll like it."

    Yong''s face lit up. "That sounds nice. Let''s spend the week or month thinking of names."

    As we sat together under the starry sky, Yong mentioned a childhood memory. "Aunt Del used to read me a fairy tale called ''Rumpelstiltskin.'' I was terrified of it."

    "Don''t you dare give me a name like that," I joked, pulling her closer. "Or I''ll leave you."

    Yong laughed, her eyes filled with love. "I''ll only think of good names for you," she promised, wrapping her arms around me.

    The school fair was a bustling spectacle of color and sound, a vibrant tapestry woven with the energy of youth. As a member of the school club, I was tasked with helping set up and manage the various booths. Yongsun, meanwhile, was immersed in rehearsals for the upcoming school play, her dedication unwavering.

    Our club had been assigned a week-long shift at the fair, coinciding with Yongsun''s rehearsals. This meant that I had no choice but to spend my time helping out at the fair, much to her disappointment.

    "I get nervous when you watch me," she confessed one afternoon, her cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment.

    "I''ll just pick you up after practice," I assured her, my heart swelling with pride.

    "Please do," she replied, her eyes filled with determination. "I can''t let our friends or Sung Hyo steal the show."

    Sung Hyo, a talented classmate, had been vying for the lead role in the play. Yongsun''s competitive spirit was ignited, and I could see the determination burning in her eyes.

    To distract myself from the stress of the fair, I borrowed some money from my aunt May and bought Yugioh cards to play with Gama and Vince. Yongsun was initially disappointed that it was a boys-only competition, but she quickly warmed up to the idea and helped us build our decks.

    With chaos rulers dominating the meta, I was able to play some powerful cards thanks to Yongsun''s generous loan of her deck. Vince jokingly referred to us as Yugi and Tea, and I couldn''t help but agree. Yongsun was my Yugi, always drawing the best out of me.

    Despite fierce competition from over four hundred contestants, I managed to reach the top three. Yongsun was there to cheer me on, providing encouragement and snacks.

    "This is harder than chess," she remarked, watching me intently.

    "It''s like the MMORPG we play," I replied. "It''s all about strategy and a little bit of luck."

    She laughed and told me to just play for fun.

    Unfortunately, I didn''t win. A wealthy student named Paulo, who seemed to have an endless supply of rare cards, claimed the championship. But I didn''t mind. The experience was exhilarating, and I even met a cute girl named Aimee, the ace student in my section.

    Yongsun, who was a section above me and Aimee''s classmate, was less than thrilled about our newfound friendship. She was fiercely competitive and saw Aimee as a rival.

    "Don''t talk to her," she demanded, her voice laced with jealousy. "She''ll win you over if you do."

    I raised an eyebrow, amused by her childishness. "You heard it here first," I teased.

    As the fair drew to a close, Yongsun and I decided to explore the various booths and rides. It was a perfect opportunity to relax, have fun, and continue brainstorming our endearment names.

    "We should both have one for ourselves," Yongsun suggested, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

    "Your call," I replied, eager to see what she would come up with.

    As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fairground, Yongsun and I decided to explore the various booths and rides. We were joined by MC and Aira, who were eager to experience all that the fair had to offer.

    Our first stop was a handcuff booth, a popular attraction that promised a thrilling challenge. With a mischievous glint in her eye, Aira insisted on handcuffing us together. To our amusement, she announced that we would be handcuffed for two hours.

    "I''ll hold your hand without a handcuff," Yongsun teased, her eyes sparkling.

    As we wandered through the fair, our laughter echoing through the crowd, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of joy and contentment. We rode the merry-go-round, our faces lit up with childish delight. We played games at various booths, our competitive spirits ignited.

    I bought Yongsun a fluffy cloud of cotton candy and a delicate bracelet, my heart swelling with affection. She beamed with gratitude, her eyes filled with warmth.

    Our adventure continued as we explored the anime merchandise booths, our eyes wide with excitement. We browsed through shelves filled with figures, posters, and other collectibles, our imaginations ignited.

    We also visited the rooms of different sections, where students were hosting karaoke competitions. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sound of music and laughter. We cheered on our friends as they belted out their favorite songs, our spirits lifted by their enthusiasm.

    Yongsun and I decided to indulge in a well-deserved treat. We made our way to the nearby McDonald''s, the warm glow of the restaurant beckoning us inside.

    As we waited for our order, I couldn''t resist the opportunity to ask Yongsun about her auditions. Her face fell slightly as she confessed that things weren''t going well.

    "I suck," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

    I reached out to take her hand, offering words of comfort. "Don''t get discouraged, Yongsun. We''ll celebrate with more ice cream."

    Her face lit up at the mention of ice cream, and she asked for spaghetti as well. Eager to please her, I suggested we grab ramyun from the nearby Korean mart.

    As we walked, I listened patiently to her lamentations about life''s unfairness and the futility of hope. I tried to offer words of encouragement, reminding her that anything was possible with hard work and determination.

    "Maybe you could skip the school fair tomorrow," she suggested, her eyes filled with pleading.

    "Of course," I replied, my heart melting at her vulnerability.

    We found a quiet corner and settled in. Watching Yongsun devour her ramyun with such gusto, I couldn''t help but feel a surge of affection. Her passion and zest for life were infectious, and I was grateful to be a part of her journey.

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    As the days turned into weeks, Yongsun''s to-do list remained a blank slate, a daunting challenge that seemed to grow more intimidating with each passing day. Determined to help her achieve her goals, I invited her to stay at my house for a while. Mr. Kim, ever supportive, agreed to the arrangement.

    Yongsun was to share a room with my sister, Jessa, but our late-night brainstorming sessions often extended well into the early hours. We''d spend hours poring over books, articles, and websites, searching for inspiration.

    "Let''s browse the internet to see what lovers do," Yongsun suggested one evening, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

    "Should we really do something similar to them?" I asked, hesitant to conform to societal expectations.

    "I''m thinking individual to-do lists," she replied, her voice filled with determination.

    "You''re my soulmate," I said, my heart overflowing with love. "I''ll just help you do yours."

    Jessa chimed in, her voice teasing, "Just do yours, sister-in-law. You''re way too picky."

    Yongsun chuckled, her initial hesitation melting away. "Yup, let''s just do mine," she decided.

    "Thank God," I muttered under my breath, relieved that the decision had been made.

    "So, what do you want to do, wife?" I asked jokingly, teasing her with the prospect of marriage.

    Yongsun''s face lit up as she began to list her dreams:

    "I want a lovely nickname."

    "Learn a new language."

    "Read a classic novel."

    "Start a journal."

    "Be a popstar."

    "Eat Asia''s delicacies."

    "Go stargazing."

    "Snorkel."

    "Go to Boracay or Hawaii."

    "Get fit."

    "Star in a stage play."

    "Cook Korean food for the Pacampara family."

    "Write a book."

    "Paint something."

    "Busk."

    "Ride a hot air balloon."

    "Stay in Korea with Jess."

    "Volunteer for a cause."

    "Dance like a pro."

    "Marry Jess."

    As I listened to her dreams, my heart swelled with pride. Yongsun was a woman of boundless ambition and passion, and I was honored to be a part of her journey. Together, we would conquer the world, one dream at a time.

    "At last, it''s done!" I exclaimed, a sense of relief washing over me. We had finally completed Yongsun''s ambitious to-do list.

    "You think I couldn''t do it?" Yongsun challenged, her eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and defiance.

    "I never doubted your abilities," I assured her. "It''s just astonishing that we managed to complete something so comprehensive."

    Yongsun playfully bit my arm, her laughter echoing through the room. Jessa joined in, her amusement evident.

    "Brother would probably give you a generic nickname," she teased.

    "No, I won''t," I replied, my voice firm. "I''ll give her something special."

    But when Yongsun mentioned the last item on her list, my heart skipped a beat. "Are you serious about that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

    "Every word," she replied, her eyes filled with sincerity.

    I pulled her into a tight embrace, my love for her overflowing. "I better start saving now for your hanbok," I said, imagining her in a beautiful white and pink ensemble.

    Yongsun blushed and leaned in for a kiss. As we shared a tender moment, the aroma of adobo filled the air. Aunt Del and my mom had prepared a delicious feast to celebrate our accomplishment.

    so as planne we skipped the last day of the fair to go to the nearby mall to eat japanese food watch go to a junji ito museum.

    I ever the skeptic told her that she doesn''t like horror stories as she is afraid of ghosts but she tells me i''m the one afraid

    **I never thought I''d find myself here¡ªwalking into a haunted house, heart racing, hand firmly held by Yongsun, my girlfriend who seemed to find joy in the macabre. I¡¯ve always been a skeptic, the kind of person who needed facts and logic to feel secure. The supernatural? That was something I avoided, not just out of disbelief, but because of one ghostly encounter in my childhood that still haunted me. But for Yongsun, the supernatural world was an exhilarating playground. She¡¯d inherited her love for all things spooky from her grandmother, a local legend known for her spine-chilling tales.

    "Don¡¯t worry, Jess," Yongsun said, her voice soft yet steady as she squeezed my hand. "I¡¯ll be here for you. We¡¯ll face this together." I managed a weak smile, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. Yongsun had a way of making even the most terrifying situations seem bearable. Still, the shadow of my past fears loomed as we stepped through the entrance, fake fog swirling around us and eerie music creeping through the air.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the house to unveil its first scare. An animatronic creature lunged out, causing Yongsun to scream louder than I thought possible. She stumbled over a fake spider and fell, pulling me down with her. We landed in a tangled heap, our laughter echoing in the darkness as fake cobwebs clung to our clothes. And just like that, some of my tension melted away. Maybe this wouldn¡¯t be as bad as I¡¯d imagined.

    We continued through the house, our journey becoming a blur of fear and hilarity. Yongsun, always dramatic, threw herself into reenacting her grandmother¡¯s ghost stories, complete with creepy sound effects and wild gestures. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite the occasional jumpscares, I found myself entertained. At one point, she pulled out her phone to film our antics for her YouTube channel, her laughter a constant melody against the haunted backdrop.

    A creaking floorboard halted my amusement, though, a sudden reminder of the reason I¡¯d been so hesitant to come. My childhood encounter flashed before me, the memory of a spectral figure at the foot of my bed, the fear that had gripped me then, gripping me now. Oblivious, Yongsun continued, tripping over a skeleton prop and clutching her throat theatrically. "I am Tomie!" she declared, her voice echoing through the dimly lit corridor. I glanced nervously at the Junji Ito figures nearby, the fear twisting inside me. Before I knew it, I¡¯d bolted, leaving Yongsun¡¯s voice trailing after me, calling out, "Freddy Krueger!"

    We regrouped, breathless and laughing, the fear fading to a dull hum. Yongsun¡¯s fearless spirit was like a light in the darkness, guiding me through. We entered a room filled with mirrors, our reflections multiplying into an eerie army of doppelgangers. While I pressed myself against the wall, afraid of what might lurk in those mirrored depths, Yongsun engaged in a lively debate with her reflections, as if she were hosting a panel discussion.

    In another room, a strobe light flickered on, casting grotesque paintings in harsh relief. Yongsun, ever the critic, analyzed the artwork, her voice carrying an air of scholarly authority. I tried to focus on her words, ignoring the disturbing imagery that seemed to pulse and shift in the flickering light.

    As we moved deeper into the house, the scares became more elaborate. A sudden drop in temperature turned a room into a swirling snowstorm, complete with fake flakes and icy gusts. Yongsun wrapped her scarf around herself, declaring dramatically that she was the Queen of the Ice. I, meanwhile, shivered uncontrollably, feeling like the air itself was closing in around me.

    In a moment of sheer panic, I found myself belting out the Doraemon theme song, the familiar melody spilling out in a desperate attempt to break the tension. The absurdity of it all had Yongsun laughing so hard she nearly fell over. I couldn¡¯t help but join her, the fear loosening its grip on my chest.

    The final scare was a towering animatronic monster, its shadow looming over us as the lights flickered and died. When they came back on, the monster had vanished, replaced by a gleaming Junji Ito merchandise area. Yongsun¡¯s eyes widened with delight. "We have to get everything!" she exclaimed, her excitement tangible as she dragged me towards the shelves.

    Before I could catch my breath, a woman dressed as Tomie emerged from behind a display. Yongsun squealed in excitement, her hand clasping mine. I stood there, still recovering from the shock, feeling a strange blend of terror and exhilaration.

    As we left the haunted house, our arms full of books, figures, and countless other collectibles, I felt something shift inside me. I had faced my fear, ventured into the unknown, and come out the other side. And through it all, Yongsun had been there, her joy and courage guiding me, making the darkness feel a little less frightening.

    Looking at her now, her face glowing with excitement, I realized that this adventure, as bizarre and terrifying as it had been, had brought us closer. There was a kind of magic in facing our fears together, in finding laughter amidst the shadows. And as we walked away from the haunted house, I knew that, with Yongsun by my side, I could face whatever came next¡ªsupernatural or not.

    It had been an eventful day. After braving the haunted house, Yongsun and I made our way to the mall. The lingering excitement and adrenaline slowly faded as we wandered through the bustling crowds, hand in hand. She had a bounce in her step, still giddy from the experience. I, on the other hand, was just relieved to be in a well-lit, ghost-free zone. As we passed by a restaurant, the smell of sizzling beef and spices wafted through the air, reminding me how hungry I was.

    ¡°Want to grab some food?¡± I asked, glancing at the sign. Beef Pepper Rice sounded perfect. Yongsun¡¯s eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly.

    We settled into a cozy corner, watching the chef pour the peppery sauce over the steaming udon and tender beef. The sizzle and smell were intoxicating, and soon enough, we were digging in, the warmth of the meal melting away the chill from the haunted house. Yongsun looked so content, her cheeks flushed as she blew on a steaming bite. Moments like this¡ªsimple and peaceful¡ªwere the ones I treasured most.

    ¡°So, what book are you planning to read next?¡± I asked between bites, curious. Yongsun¡¯s love for books was something I adored, her face lighting up every time she found a story that captivated her.

    She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. ¡°I think I want to read A Walk to Remember,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s short, but there¡¯s something about Jaime that I can relate to. Her strength, her faith¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at me with a shy smile. ¡°But don¡¯t help me finish it this time, okay?¡±

    I chuckled, remembering how I¡¯d ended up reading the last few chapters of her previous book to her when she¡¯d fallen asleep. ¡°I promise,¡± I said, holding up my hands in mock surrender. ¡°It¡¯s all yours.¡±

    After finishing our meal, we strolled around the mall, the atmosphere relaxed and carefree. We stumbled upon a small karaoke booth, and without hesitation, Yongsun dragged me inside. The cramped space was filled with our laughter as she picked song after song, her voice filling the air. She started with her favorite K-pop hits, but when she got to the emo ballads, I could see her expression change.

    She was trying so hard to hit every note perfectly, frustration building with each small mistake. I knew this feeling¡ªtrying and trying until it felt like you were pushing against an immovable wall. When she finally stopped singing, her face flushed with embarrassment and irritation, I took her hand, squeezing it gently.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay to be angry, you know,¡± I told her softly. ¡°You¡¯ve been pushing yourself so much. Just let it out.¡±

    She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. And then, just like that, the dam broke. She ranted about everything¡ªhow hard she¡¯d been working, how it sometimes felt like no matter what she did, it wasn¡¯t good enough. I listened, feeling a fierce protectiveness surge inside me. Yongsun was the strongest person I knew, but even the strongest needed someone to lean on sometimes.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing amazing, Sunshine,¡± I said, using the nickname I¡¯d called her since the first time I saw her smile, as bright and warm as the sun. ¡°And I¡¯m here. I¡¯ll always be here. Fighting for you, supporting you, no matter what.¡±

    She took a deep breath, nodding as if trying to absorb my words, her eyes softening. ¡°Thank you, Jess. You¡¯re my rock, you know that?¡±

    We left the karaoke booth and wandered around, visiting music stores where we stocked up on K-pop and emo CDs. It was almost like a ritual for us, building a soundtrack for our memories together. When we finally decided to leave, I scooped her up into a princess carry, eliciting a surprised squeal.

    ¡°Jess!¡± she exclaimed, but there was laughter in her voice. I couldn¡¯t help but smile as I carried her through the mall, earning a few amused looks from passersby. She looped her arms around my neck, her gaze never leaving my face. ¡°You don¡¯t have to carry me, you know.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I said, grinning. ¡°But I want to. You¡¯ve had a rough day, and it¡¯s the least I can do.¡±

    Her expression softened, and she rested her head on my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re something else, you know that?¡±

    ¡°Only because you bring out the best in me,¡± I replied, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with physical proximity.

    We made our way to a gaming caf¨¦ afterward, setting up a classic game of DOTA 1. As we played, I found myself marveling at how natural this felt¡ªus, together, sharing everything from scary stories to video games. We laughed and strategized, Yongsun¡¯s competitive side emerging as she gave it her all, determined not to lose. I couldn¡¯t help but smile, watching her so focused and fierce.

    ¡°You¡¯re really into this,¡± I teased as she took down a particularly tough opponent.

    ¡°Of course!¡± she shot back, her eyes shining. ¡°I have to keep up with you, don¡¯t I?¡±

    After the game, I looked at her, my heart swelling with affection. ¡°You did amazing, Sunshine.¡±

    She made a face, playful and slightly embarrassed. ¡°I told you, I want a grander name. Like Solar!¡±

    ¡°Solar it is,¡± I said, smiling. ¡°What about me, then?¡±

    She tilted her head, considering. ¡°Hmm¡­ Honey,¡± she decided finally. ¡°Because you¡¯re the sweetest, and I can never get enough of you.¡±

    I laughed, feeling a blush creep up my neck. ¡°Honey it is, then.¡± I leaned closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead. ¡°And I have no problem being trapped in your net, my Sunshine.¡±

    She smiled, her eyes shining with that radiant light that had captivated me from the start. ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re both caught in this together.¡±

    We left the mall that night, bags full, hearts fuller. High school would throw plenty of challenges our way, but as long as I had Yongsun¡ªmy Sunshine, my Solar¡ªby my side, I knew we¡¯d face them together. And that was more than enough for me.