I am here again. I have been coming here too often. It is not even a me-thing to do, to be walking around the Han River like this. Unlike Elsa, the cold does bother me. I should have picked a different cardigan tonight after freezing off my last night. Stupid. Idiot.

She probably isn't here - not that it matters. I have been coming here even when I knew she wasn't even in the country.

I come, not hoping to see her. I come because she doesn't. I come because she probably has forgotten. At least, one of us should keep our precious memories. I don’t expect her to.

She probably has given up on me. She probably has erased everything of me from her memory. She probably has stopped caring about me.

I don't blame her, given our circumstances - given everything I have done.

If I can have the chance, would I have made different choices? Yes. Most definitely. I would have considered the permanent loss of her against my temporary anger. I would have pictured her beautiful smile in my head before letting rage cloud my judgment. I would have run into her arms instead of the arms of another. I would have been different.

But it is all in the past. And time can only move forward. I have to suffer the consequences, the destructions of my doings.

I am ashamed. And I am a coward. I am also a selfish being.

And that is why I have come here. And why I keep coming back here to "our spot." Because only here can I truly be truthful to myself, that I am not doing well, that I am not happy. I’ve come to punish myself with the thoughts of our memories and how I single-handedly destroyed everything.

I am sorry.

And I am sorry for not being able to tell you that either.  Maybe someday. Maybe then I will break free of my bounds to tell you. Maybe someday, I could even tell you that I still love you though you probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.

I guess I was too deep into my thoughts that I had failed to see her, failed to see her impending collision into me. But at last, I see her, my golden sky.

She looks tired. If I remember reading social media correctly, she had just come back from filming her new music video abroad. Shouldn't she be in bed sleeping? Or at the least, shouldn't she be strolling along this nice romantic path with her lovable best friend? She was my best friend too, at one point. And I was hers.

Why is she here? Although I do wish that she came for me, I know it is only just wishful thinking.

She doesn't look happy to see me. Of course, she wouldn't. After everything I have done, a sudden slap across the face from her wouldn't be unexpected. But she also doesn't look angry. She is hesitant.

Should I just walk away to avoid her?

But I want to see her.

Should I just pretend I didn't see her and keep walking?

But I want to stand in her presence.

Should I just run and hide?

But I... I want her to see me.

"Hi." I finally wreck enough nerves to utter the simple greetings.

"Hi." It feels so cold and so painful. Maybe I should have just run away. If I had, I wouldn't be here, confirming my theory that she hates me now, that she has replaced every happy memory we shared with those of me breaking our relationship.

"Have you been well?" I ask again. Why do I bother? Why do I try? It is obvious that she does not want to speak to me. Why am I doing this to myself?

"Yeah. I have been well. How are you?" Her tone is softer but I can see that she is uncomfortable standing before me. Maybe I should have just avoided her, then I wouldn’t have to see her like this. Must I stand here and remind myself of how much it hurts to see her look at me that way? Perhaps, I deserve all of this.

"I am doing fine,” I lie. I am not doing fine. How can I be without her? But of course, she doesn’t know that. She only sees the lies I’ve manufactured. She only thinks of me as the traitor who is living a good life. And she will only look at me as the person who shattered everything.

"That's good," she says. "Well. I have an early schedule the next morning. I should get going now."

Please. Don’t leave. Not yet.

But, no. I don’t have the right to ask anything of her.

“Goodbye, Jessica.” She finally says those words, almost in a trembling voice. And I can’t help it to feel like I have been stabbed deeply in my heart. Even though it was a simple greeting, it feels a lot more meaningful than that. Is this our official farewell? The one that neither side has said since the incident almost two years ago?

She turns around. I can see her back moving further and further away from me.

Please. Stop. Please turn around.

I cannot stand here anymore. I cannot hold myself back anymore. I cannot contain my heart anymore. I cannot let her go.

Quickly, I grab her wrist before she could move even farther from me. And with as much force as I can, I pulled her back to my embrace. With my arms around her, I hug her with all of my might. I let myself go and let the tears flow onto her shoulder.

Please hold me. Please tell me that you still care for me.

And she does. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in even closer.

She still cares. She still does.

“I missed you,” I say.

“I missed you,” she says.

--------

perhaps there will be a 3rd installment ...perhaps...