60, 59, 58, 57, 56, 55, 54, 53, 52…

When he first saw her, what caught Kyung’s attention was the dress she was wearing. It was pale gold and made of a fine material that he had never seen before. As she lay down on his doorstep, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow, the many folds of the dress engulfed her body like a coccoon. Kyung had been returning from his café, a small one that he ran with only three staffs apart from him, close to his house. He was befuddled to find the girl lying there. He immediately checked her pulse through her warm skin. Not knowing what else to do, he picked her up gently and carried her inside. Tucking a pillow under her head on the couch, he sprinkled cold water on her face. She stirred a little, as if agitated, then opened her eyes slowly.

That was when Kyung found himself awed—she had vividly green eyes that sparkled, as if they were two polished emeralds. The eyes by themselves could turn heads, but that was not where her beauty ended. Her slightly tan face was framed by auburn curls, which played down her back and ended near her waist. The end of her lips were tilted upwards slightly, that gave the impression that she was constantly amused. When their eyes met, Kyung suddenly found all the words he was planning to say tangled up.

“My c-café is K-kyung.Where’s yours?” The moment he uttered the ridiculous words, he winced. And the girl laughed.

“My name is Bae Hyunju. Nice to meet you, Kyung.” No hesitation, no stutter, no discomfort. She spoke as if she’d known him forever.

“Where-um, I mean why-um…” Kyung could kick himself. He blamed the fact that he led a quiet, friendless life, and couldn’t socialise even if his life depended on it.

She didn’t reply. She just looked around curiously. After that, even when they’d grown comfortable with each other, when they could talk openly, holding hands, she’d never said where she had come from or why she was there. Kyung hadn’t pestered her either—that was the only topic that could cause the lights in her eyes to go off, turning her eyes a deeper, dull green.

46, 45, 44, 43, 42, 41, 40, 39…

She didn’t resist twice when he asked her to stay. Kyung could surmise that she had nowhere to go, or at least, nowhere that she wanted to be. Like the gentleman he was, Kyung offered her the bedroom; he took to sleeping on the couch in the living room.

It surprised Kyung to find Hyunju didn’t know how to cook. He thought her on weekends or after he returned from work. Whenever he would prepare breakfast or a snack, she would stand by the counter, deeply engrossed in his antics. Her eyes followed his wrist movement as he spread the egg for an omelette or stirred the ramyun. She got excited whenever he told her to pass a spoon or a bottle of spice. She also watched him dice vegetable, gasping loudly if he accidentally cut himself.

Hyunju would sometimes request Kyung to make a cake that looked like the pictures in the paper. He would try, but it would obviously not look as professional as the pictures. Hyunju’s face would fall when she saw the cake. The very next day, Kyung would get her one from a confectionary and her face would light up with glee.

When Kyung was away at the café, Hyunju spent her time reading books. There were a lot of them stacked at one corner of Kyung’s bedroom. He had told her that they had belonged to his father, who was a University professor. When she got tired of reading, she busied herself in the kitchen, trying to recreate one of Kyung’s dishes. Her ones didn’t taste as great, but she improved as the days wore on. One day, Kyung even complimented her—not the fake compliments he would give her, with a slight scrunched up face, when she served him salty prawn or burnt toast—she could tell that the compliment was genuine. In fact, she had surprised herself as well.

34, 33, 32, 31, 30, 29, 28…

At times, Kyung felt guilty for being so selfish. He had Hyunju locked up—not literally—but he never took her outside. In his defense, he could say that she never asked him to. It was an odd feeling; he felt an overwhelming protectiveness towards her. He feared that one day, he would wake up and she would be gone. Nothing haunted him more than the thought of losing her. It was peculiar for him to grow so attached to someone; many people suspected him of being a mysoginist.

When he was at the café, he couldn’t wait to go home. He felt relaxed just to find Hyunju sitting on the couch, waiting for him. He began to see his old, unwelcome home in a whole new light. He wondered why he had never noticed that the windows in the living room were in the perfect position—broad beams of light fell on Hyunju’s face and hair as she sat on the couch, turning a page. The couch itself was perfect—it adapted nicely to Hyunju’s figure as she lay on it, watching  television. Even the food tasted better when he ate with Hyunju. His past habits didn’t change, but whatever he did, felt better because Hyunju was there. It was as if he was high on euphoria constantly.

He could describe his feelings with two words—perhaps love.

22, 21, 20, 19, 18, 17…

It was raining heavily that night. Lightning seared across the sky, thunderbolt rattling against the window. When Kyung returned home, he found Hyunju cowering in a corner. Assured by his figure in the half-darkness, she ran across the room and threw herself into his arms. Kyung, a bit unsure about what to do, patted her back.

“I was so scared. I thought they’d come for me,” she whispered, her voice quavering.

Kyung frowned. “Who’re they?”

Hyunju shook her head and buried her face deeper into his chest. Something erupted inside him—the restraints he had felt before evaporated. His arms tightened around her, his chin landing on her head. Hyunju welcomed his warmth.

Kyung had fallen, fallen badly for her. Now all that remained was for him to confess.

“Hyunju I-I…” Kyung wanted to say the words but he didn’t know how she felt towards him. He was worried that she might take it wrongly, she might think that he was taking advantage of a helpless girl who sought only shelter from him.

But Kyung needn’t have worried; she completed his unspoken sentence.

“I love you.”

His heart leapt like a racing horse, galloping with the wind.

He stepped back, trying to catch her eyes. She looked up, her emerald eyes glistening with tears, brighter than ever.

“Don’t cry, I love you too.”

Without any hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed him. Kyung was surprised but he liked the little surprises she presented him with.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

One year, seven months, twenty-six days and six hours he had known her. One year, two months, twenty-one days and three hours he had loved her. One year, one month, fifteen days and two hours since they met, she kissed him for the first time. One year, seven months, twenty-six days and six hours since he had found her on his doorstep, she left his arms.

He put down the emerald ring and took up the note. He had fallen again and this time, he had no way to get back up. His tears fell silently, drenching the white paper he held in his trembling hand. He didn’t want to read the note, because it would mean that he had to accept that she was gone; his nightmare would become real. But he wanted to read her handwriting, the last piece of her that he had to hold onto, apart from the ring.

He didn’t know what he would meet in the note—heartbreaking accusations or strength to live on. He knew there was no hope of her ever returning, the ring was the proof. She had wanted him to remember her through the ring.

With a heart-piercing pang, he unfolded the paper and set his eyes on the familiar handwriting.

Dearest Kyung,

I know you’ll be devastated when you find the note and the ring, but it would have been even more devastating if you saw me now.

You had wanted to know about me, but I’ve never told you anything about my past.  But now, I think you deserve an explanation. I won’t bother you with the details. I’m a heavenly creature, at least I was born as one. And then, I fell from grace and I was sent to earth to serve my sentence. Fortunately for me though, the punishment churned out the best memories of my life. I wish this sentence would have lasted forever. But it ends, ends with death. My time is near, and all I can say is, I don’t regret a moment I’ve spent with you.

You may or may not believe me, but it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’m leaving you the ring, my ring, which holds my memories with you. I don’t need it, because even in death I cannot forget you.

But you have a choice—you can either throw away the ring and start afresh or you can hold onto my memories, our memories. A selfish part of me wants you to keep the ring, but please, don’t do somthing that hurts you.

Maybe I’m delusional but I think you’ll keep the ring.

I can die happily then.

And the last thing I want to tell you is—I love you.

Yours

Hyunju.

A/N: So I did end with the letter. 

One more thing, you had mentioned something vague about 'another place' but since you didn't say anything about it in the pms, I took the liberty to not include it. Hope that's ok.