I’ve had a few appointments since my first physical therapy checkup, but this time is the first time that I’ve been told that I can change into a brace in a few weeks. I’m excited, because it means that I can walk again soon, walk like any normal person can. That’s one disability I can cancel out.

I decide to tell Jonghyun about it in the letter. I figure he will probably memorize all his sentences this time – he had a glint in his eyes that let me know he was the type to succeed if given a second chance – so I start writing my letter the day before Friday.

I tap my pen against the paper for a long moment, wondering what I should say. How do I start my story? I reason I don’t have to tell him everything from the beginning, so with that in mind, I write.

I moved here with my aunt and uncle a few months ago. In my old home, I lived with my mom. My dad left my family when I was younger. My foot was broken because I got into a car accident with my mom, where she died.

I pause. Catching a breath, I continue.

I had an ex-boyfriend who broke up with me after the accident. This isn’t really that relevant, but I’m telling you anyway.

That’s a lie. If it weren’t relevant, I wouldn’t bother to write this to him.

And I’m here now, doing physical therapy and spending my days at this facility with you. And it’s actually pretty nice.

I want to say thank you because, even though I didn’t originally like going to this place, I grew to like it.

That’s it? That’s all I have to say? Now that I’ve been given a chance to write my story on paper, the words escape me. This is all that comes to mind. As condensed as it is, it should be enough to inform him what is going on with me. We never promised to give each other’s biographies, anyway. This will have to suffice.

On Friday, just as I predicted, Jonghyun memorized all three sentences. I pull out my letter from my pocket and give it to him. Carefully, I watch him read the letter. His eyes skim the page quickly and his face doesn’t change in expression, but at one point his jaw clenches. He sets the letter aside and, with a touch of playfulness, seriously asks, “Why on earth would a guy break up with you after the accident?” He points at the letter. “That’s a jerk. That’s a jerk, you know?”

I smile at him. Jonghyun doesn’t understand why, but I understand perfectly.

He stares at me for a moment, his lips pursed, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say before he talks. Then, he sighs and says, “It’s good he broke up with you.”

I must have look surprised, because he adds, “That’s not what I meant. I mean, he doesn’t deserve you.” He grimaces. “That’s clichéd. I mean … if he broke up with you after the accident, because of your leg, or whatever, then he isn’t worth it.”

But it wasn’t because of my leg. Not all of it, anyway. It was so much more than that. It was because of me. Everything is because of me. My dad leaving … he must have left because I was mute, right? And my mom died because I couldn’t drive properly, nor could I warn her. And my ex-boyfriend left because … because of me. Because I exist, people have left me, and I’ve gotten hurt.

I look at Jonghyun. I know that, eventually, he’s going to leave me. Just like the rest of them. Nobody ever stays, not with someone who can’t talk and has a bad leg. And I can’t chase after them, too. Either they choose to stay, or they choose to leave. I haven’t the power to prevent them, only the power to push them away.

“Do you want to find your dad?” Jonghyun asks me earnestly. I shake my head. He nods, and then he meticulously folds the letter. “What about your ex – never mind.”

My ex? I honestly don’t know where he is. After he broke up with me, I haven’t been in contact with him. I don’t know what he is doing with his life. Does he still do photography as a hobby, like he so loved before? Does he still talk a mile a minute, like he always did when he was nervous, or when he was alone with me? I explore these ideas, questioning what he does now and where he is. In truth, I miss him. He was the one person besides my mom who would listen to me.

But his ears never heard me by their own choice. He did it because he had to. So why am I yearning for an ear that was forced to listen?

Jonghyun tries to raise my mood after he sensed that I was ready to close up again. He urges me to write more often since I’m so good at it, but I know that I didn’t do anything special. I feel like he knows so much more about me than I know about him. The bruises on his face have started to heal, but they still remind me of what he did that he couldn’t wholly tell me. I still ask why he is the way he is – a school dropout, a bad scholar, a thief – but I don’t have the courage to voice my question. I trust him, despite not knowing everything about him. I trust him because he’s been by my side through his own will … and by his own will, I am sure he is going to leave.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow?” He asks me. “Let’s go out. Have lunch, walk around the park, visit places … it’ll be warmer tomorrow, so it won’t be too bad to be outside. What do you think?”

Hang out? I’ve never seen Jonghyun in a place other than here. I would like to. I really would. I nod my head and smile, and he smiles back.

“I’ll pass by your house, okay? Eleven. I’ll see you.”

When the day is finished and I am taken back home, I tell my aunt and uncle that I’ve been invited by Jonghyun to go somewhere. They seem excited that I’m visiting a place other than the facility, so they readily agree, saying that as long as I come home no later than ten, they’re okay with it.

At eleven the next day, the doorbell to the house rings. My aunt answers it, and in walks Jonghyun, in clothes more handsome than I’ve ever seen him wear. “Are you ready?” He asks me. He glances at my crutches. I think he forgot that I used them on a regular basis. “We’ll take the bus,” he says, and then ushers me out of the house and to the nearest bus stop. We wait together for the bus, and then he helps me sit down while he sits in the aisle across from me.

“We’re going to do some fun things, so keep close, okay?” He says. The bus stops, and we get off in front of a restaurant. Instead of eating lunch there like I supposed we would, Jonghyun leads me to a café, where sandwiches and crepes are sold. We eat a light brunch (I order a fruit crepe, and Jonghyun orders a sandwich), and then we head out.

“Are you okay with walking?” He asks me. I nod. “My school is right down the block. I’ll show it to you, and then we can rest for a while.”

We walk side by side towards his school. It’s a tall building with rusted red bricks and grass too green for the eyes to see. It looks like an expensive school.

“It’s a private school,” he says. “It looks nice, but it really inside. And the people too.” He glances at me, and then says, “But I don’t .”

I stifle a smile, and he grins.

He leads me around the area, showing me his neighborhood and other places he likes to visit in his free time. It turns out that everything is close to his house, like the supermarket, or the park. He can walk to so many places within ten minutes.

After that, we eat ice cream and rest up for a bit. He talks to me about his friends at school, and how they aren’t really his friends since they think he’s stupid for going to the deaf-mute facility (which I assume is how he got beat up). He also says that he doesn’t understand why people are so prejudiced about stuff like that, when everybody is the same if people just quit talking smack about them.

“People are all like that,” he observes. “And I’m like that.”

I like that he doesn’t try to hide how imperfect he is, and that he’s accepting when it comes to his flaws. He likes his flaws, he says. He thinks he’s cooler with them than without, and that he likes that side of him. The only side he doesn’t like, he admits, is that he can get embarrassed easily. “Like right now,” he says. “I’m talking so much because of it.”

After ice cream, we head to the supermarket to buy some groceries that Jonghyun’s grandma asked him to get. While he fills up a cart with fruits and vegetables, I peruse the ice cream isle for fun. I like looking at all the different flavors that companies make. I head back to look for Jonghyun when I hear something drop. Turning, I see a guy bend down as he picks up his phone. As he picks it up, however, the bag of apples he is holding falls to the floor. Frustrated, he picks that up, as well, and mutters to himself. He turns around, but I don’t turn fast enough, and he sees me staring at his endeavors.

When I see his face, I almost lose the strength to lean against my crutches. He drops his apples again and gapes at me in surprise while his phone limply hangs in his hand.

“Mina?” He whispers. He takes a step forward. “Mina, you … you’re here?”

I want to run away, but the roots of my heart have nailed my feet to the floor. Somewhere, I hear Jonghyun calling my name. When he finds me, he tells me that he’s all done shopping, but when he sees the immobile state that I am in, he peers at me in concern.

“Mina? What’s wrong?”

“Mina,” my ex-boyfriend, Kangho, utters. “How’ve you been?”