“Sica, are you okay?” Jonghyun asks.

I know why he’s asking. I have that blank look on my face again. Usually, I’d tell him that I was okay, and brush the matter of with a wave of my hand. But this time though, I think he deserves to know the truth.

“No, Jonghyun, I’m not okay.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the swing. I sit down and he sits beside me, asking me why. I smile weakly. Open my mouth to say something, but for another moment, hesitate.

“It’s about him.” I speak with caution.

His eyes meet mine as I look up to make sure he isn’t upset. He smiles gently at me, forever understanding, forever caring. That’s one of the reasons why I feel bad every time I look at him. He takes my hands in his, and asks me to share.

Usually, I wouldn’t tell him a thing about Minho. That was a past I never wanted to speak of again, because I loved him too much, and it hurt to begin thinking of him.

When I don’t say anything, he whispers, “You can trust me.”

--

Minho and I… had an interesting start. The first time he noticed me when some other girls were bullying me. I remember clearly them putting dead insects in my locker, sneaking up on me and pulling my hair, sometimes even outright slapping me for no reason.

Or so I thought there was no reason. Later, when those misunderstandings were cleared, I found out that someone framed me. This girl, who till this day I still do not know, left insulting notes in their bags, and signed off with my name.

It was another one of those days. Bom, one of the girls, had sprayed paint over my locker, and the words said, , you ain’t got anything on me. The paint was red, and by the time I walked to my locker, it was about 6pm, where everyone had left the school.

I put my bag on the floor and went to get a scrub from the bathroom and some soap. Hopefully it would come off. Those girls did mean things, but they were kind enough to ensure that what they did wouldn’t get them into trouble, i.e. cleanable spray paint—which was hard to clean off, but could if you tried hard enough.

“Need some help there?” I turned and saw Minho.

The thing was, Minho was a very popular guy, but he was still single. It was a choice he made. He avoided lots of really pretty girls. Nobody knew why. I didn’t either.

Hiding my slight surprise, I shook my head.

“You sure? It’s probably going to take a while. Plus, it’s pretty late now. By the time you’re done with this, it would be really dark to walk home.”

I didn’t say anything. He took it as a ‘yes, I’d like some help’, because seconds later he appeared beside me with another scrub and soap. For the next hour we cleaned off the spray paint.

Before he could offer to walk me home, I took my bag and ran out of the school, and was on my way home.

--

And so it continued like that. Minho helped me whenever those girls were bullying me, and soon, we became friends.

It was an afternoon in fall when Minho and I were walking in the park. Leaves were falling, the wind was blowing, and it was the perfect scene. It had been about three months since that incident, and we pretty much knew quite a lot about each other.

As we walked, I don’t know at what point, he slipped his hand into mine. I was surprised, definitely, but I decided to go with the flow and grip his hand not-too-tightly.

“Jessica?” He asked.

“What?” I replied with another question, glancing at him.

“Do you like anyone right now?”

“No, why?” I raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the situation.

“I have to tell you something.” Minho stopped, grabbed my shoulders, and made me face him.

I was startled, but stood still, not protesting. He looked seriously at me, and I returned him a gaze of equal seriousness. My heart was thumping, and still, I didn’t know why. I felt confused.

He took a deep breath and smiled at me, and then leaning in and whispering, “I like you, Jessica.”

--

Fast forward two years and we were still dating. Those girls backed off the moment Minho and I was made official. That made me really happy, but then I began to miss the times Minho would stick up for me. Funny, it was.

And then something bad just had to happen and ruin all kinds of happiness for me. Coincidentally, it was an afternoon in fall when I received the news.

The Choi family’s first son (Minho was their second), Siwon, called me. I remember his exact words. Jessica, thank God you answered. Minho… he got into a car accident. I remember my lips trembling slightly as I replied, “And?” And he said, he died, Jessica. It was too late to save him.

I dropped my phone, immediately sprinted out of my house and drove to the hospital. I knew which one they were in because just before I dropped my phone, someone in the background had muttered the name. On the way there, I sped, but I was too agitated to care.

I could’ve cried, but I didn’t.

When I got there, Siwon was waiting for me by the door, probably expected that I would’ve come. We didn’t exchange any words as he led me to the room where the whole family was in.

“Jessica…” Mrs. Choi said as I stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Choi.” I could only bring myself to say as much before walking towards the bed.

A white sheet covered a body that I knew had to be Minho’s. I bent over and kneeled on the floor, violently shaking. I felt Siwon’s hands on my shoulders, ready to hold me if I fell.

I could’ve pushed him away, but I didn’t.

“M-Minho…” I whispered, “You promised that you’d die after me. You promised me, Minho? Don’t you remember? You broke your promise. Don’t you love me, Minho? How could you die before me? And without telling me, too.”

Siwon said from behind me gently, “I was with him when he was being wheeled in… Minho wanted me to tell you that he loves you, and that if he doesn’t pull through, he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry, and that you should move on.”

Move on?

--

I was still in the same devastated state years later. When my mother couldn’t stand seeing me moping around in the house anymore, she told me that she would marry me off to a guy she knew would help me move on.

The guy was Kim Jonghyun. At first, I had completely opposed the idea, telling her that this was the new age, nobody was match-made anymore. But then, after several reprimanding and advice giving, and the fact that moving on was Minho’s last wish, I gave in.

That was how I met the second most important man in my life, Jonghyun.

After that, you can pretty much guess how the story goes. We got married, cliché as it sounds, and my mother chased me out to move into a house with Jonghyun.

Jonghyun was really nice to me, accepting the fact that I was a broken one. He truly cared for me, and looked out for me. Problem was, I saw him only as an older brother, while he saw me as a wife. I knew he loved me, but I didn’t love him.

Not because I didn’t want to, it was because I couldn’t.

--

“I’m sorry you’re still hurting.”

“Everyone’s always sorry.” I chuckle darkly.

“Well, I’m not everyone. And Sooyeon?”

I look at him. He always uses my real name when he wants my full and undivided attention. He smiles and kisses my forehead.

“I’ll help you move on.”

But at that moment, even though I know he is being as sincere as he can about it…

There is no way I can forget the only man I ever truly loved—Choi Minho.