A jolt of lighting illuminates the house for a split second. It was that time of the day when you prepare for the coming darkness that the evening brings yet I do nothing but read a book under the only lit lamp. Most wives are up and about at this hour, cooking and washing clothes. I should be too, except for the fact that I have no small mouths to feed and not much clothes to wash.

This house is an empty house. Though the silence brings serenity and peace, I sometimes yearn to hear the noise of children or the sound of the television on the football channel harmonizing with the sizzle from the frying pan as he rests and I cook. Not once was I given the opportunity to experience that.

But I’m not in complaint. Actually, I am in no position to even say a single word. Though I had selfishly voiced my childish fantasies of the ideal family before, I quickly realized that this injustice that I go through is nothing compared to what he has lived through.

And he has to survive every other day of his existence, reminded consistently of his dark past and the darker future that lied ahead of him—of us. As long as it rains, Changjo will never forget what happened ten years ago.

I stand from my seat and make my way to his room. We don’t sleep together anymore. That has long passed—but again I am not complaining. The dark welcome me and the cold wind gushes in the room, making the figure by the window flinch. That’s where you’d find Changjo on a gloomy day such as this: by the window sill.

However, I get nothing more than a shiver as a response. He doesn’t turn and invite me beside him. He doesn’t kiss my lips sweetly. I don’t remember the taste of his lips anymore and I doubt he remembers mine. Wonderment had left his gaze and his eyes do not glimmer anymore. They are dull like the rain clouds above and they purposelessly stare out the window. Changjo is there—breathing, blinking, hearing and seeing—but he’s not living. Not anymore.

Words are hardly exchanged between the two of us. If it weren’t for the wedding pictures that lined the walls of his room, it would’ve been hard to believe that we were husband and wife.

The pictures that are better off burnt and forgotten. I can’t bring myself to look at them. It would make me plead again, the pretentious me would surface and question once more what I did to deserve this much pain. In the four corners subdued in darkness, it was the only signs of happiness that was once ours.

But he refused to have them removed though I personally volunteered to dispose of them myself. And I know he was just doing that for me. He didn’t have to. Yet he still insisted. With his lips pursed into a straight line he told me “Don’t,” And I admit that an undeniable part of me was thrilled.

Maybe he didn’t want to forget like I have presumed.

One memory I treasured was when we danced. He loved dancing while I on the other hand just joined him for the fun of it. For the whole afternoon we’d just be waltzing, gracefully being swept from end to end of the room until we were both dizzy that we’d crash on the couch hands still link. He’d turn his head towards me and on his face will surface a boyish smile that melted me completely. Like a high school girl I probably flustered before him, making him make the most adorable laughter I have ever heard. And at the heart of silence, we’d kiss: Compassionately, intimately yet innocently.

I close my eyes and vivid images are all that I see. Beautiful scenarios filled with colour, life, and love. There weren’t much of these memories. Yet they made me happy, temporarily. They were my safe haven. Even for a while I felt loved, like nothing was wrong and I was happily in Changjo’s arms—taking in every part of him: the smell of his sweater, the feeling of his hair between my fingers, the rise and fall of his chest against mine and our hearts beating as one.

We were once like this. I keep telling myself. We were once beautiful. Perfect. Together

We were once just friends also.

I was once just the best friend.

Suddenly, it wasn’t me in my memories. They were someone else—someone familiar. She was gorgeous; her hair flowed over her shoulders like how mine did. The corner of her lips curls up like how mine did and her eyes created upside-down crescents akin to mine. Our similarities were, frightening. Yet she had one thing I have only dreamed of, she had Changjo.

It wasn’t me dancing along to the waltz. It wasn’t me he smiled boyishly at. It wasn’t me that he’s married to. That woman in the picture, she was me, no, she only looked like me. It’s his wife, real wife, and first love, Park Yu Ra. I’m just an Im Yu Na. An Im Yu Na that Changjo rejected repeatedly.

The deceased Park Yu Ra died in a car crash ten years ago. In weather much like today’s, Changjo lost control of the breaks and they crashed into another car. Changjo survived with only a fractured rib but Yu Ra faced the full impact. There was nothing the doctors could do to save her. How do I know? I was there. I was the one beside Changjo’s hospital bed as we waited for just the slightest glint in the doctor’s eyes to tell us that Yu Ra was alive.

I provided him the comfort he needed. Changjo placed all the blame on himself. Horrifyingly he attempted to commit suicide countless times. But I can’t lose him too. Yu Ra was my best friend, losing her had its effect on me too. But losing Changjo would destroy me completely. Probably just like how it was destroying Changjo to lose Yu Ra.

Behind every cloud is a silver lining. Years later, he learned to love me as I had forever loved him. Suddenly, there was hope for both of us. He phased through the depression stage and drastic changes were evident on him. Changjo smiled again, he laughed again and he began to live his life once more; now with me by his side.

For a short while, he made me believe that he had forgotten Yu Ra—that he has moved on. He did it pretty well. Making me fall deeper into his charms, reaching a stage where I’m unable to dig myself out. It was not hard to melt into his arms; being in it made me feel so safe, that nothing could hurt us and our love. 

But he never loved me. He loves Yu Ra and will forever love Yu Ra. His arms wrap around me with the image of Yu Ra in his thoughts—in his heart. Sometimes, he calls her name instead of mine. In Choi Jong Hyun’s eyes, I’m someone who reminds him of Park Yu Ra. He loves me because he believes I’m Park Yu Ra.

Like poison that I injected into myself, I too lived on the belief that I am Park Yu Ra.

I’m… Park Yu Ra.

“Yu Ra,”

My eyes shoot open. They are hot and heavy with tears and I realize that I was stuck in my train of thoughts too much to not notice that Changjo had called my name several times. My name—my fake name—the image that I have created to receive the love from the most important person in my life.

Changjo looks up from the wheelchair, his eyes searching for something. He probably wonders why tears were streaming down my cheeks. I could only imagine the shock on his face when he saw the transition of happiness to melancholy on my features.

I reach for my face to wipe my tears but…he beats me to it.  I’ve forgotten how gentle his touch was. The distinct warmth that his thumb provides my cheek made me tremble. My knees made contact with the carpet and I kneel beside him instantly. I wanted more of his touch and press his whole palm against my face.

“No,” Changjo mutters and finally, for the first time again, he smiles boyishly. “Yu Na,”

When he whispers my name, it creates war inside my chest. Happiness and hidden longing are at rage. I bite my lip to make sure that everything was anything but a dream and he laughs the most precious laughter in response.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” I caress the back of his palm.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. After what was an hour of silence, he continues. “I don’t know what I could do to make it up to you. I made you go through this. I selfishly made you do something that probably hurts you in every second of your life. But it made me happy, and, and I thought it made you happy. However, I saw earlier that you aren’t. You pretend that you are but inside you’re not. You’re in pain Yu Na,”

No. I’m not in pain. I love you.

“If you could…forgive me I-“

I hush him with my lips. And we shared what was like our first kiss. Changjo has never kissed me like this before. Physically, it was like any other kiss but behind that, was the truth. He kissed me as Yu Na, not Yu Ra.

 I love you.

Our lips part with smiles that have been buried under selfishness. He smiles at me because I was Yu Na and I smile not as Yu Ra but as myself. If happiness was a physical material, it was Changjo. With him, no matter what I am, no matter who I was, I was contented with my life. If he loved me for me or if he loved me as a different person, I wouldn’t give a damn. As long as we’re like this, we can start anew.

“I love you,” Words flow out of my lips with longing to get out. To be heard.

Changjo chuckles and I fluster like a high school girl—I flustered. Then he said the words I never thought I’d hear from him, from his lips. “I love you too Im Yu Na,”

What I felt that moment, was unexplainable—relief, joy, excitement, and even grief all in one.

I’ve been waiting for that and that only Choi Jonghyun. And now that I heard it, I know now.

“But you love Yu Ra more,” I added without hesitance.

He only smiles and says “Thank you,”

I know now that I have and forever will be just second in your heart. You love Yu Ra as much as I love you and nothing will change that—not even death itself could separate the two of you. We’ve been lying to ourselves for so long that we’ve lost sight of true love. Maybe if we straightened out the lines before the poison spread, we might have had a chance. However, you’ll never love me as much as you loved her.

I saw every day the way Changjo looked at her. He wouldn’t be able to wipe off the smile on his face even if the world depended on it. And when she died, he decided in a second that he was better off dead as well. I understand now.

I stand up and join him as we look outside the window. It was such a beautiful view, no wonder he spent every second before it. The rain has stopped and streaks of light broke through the thick rain clouds. Hope had found its way through darkness.

They shine on his face. His skin and lips, though pale, were beautiful. His eyes glistened again. Tears fell across his cheek but they weren’t of sadness.

“I saw her,” He grabs my hand with the remaining strength that he has. He exerted so much energy into smiling, smiling for me.

“She’s reaching out for me,” Changjo laughs in disbelief. “Should I grab her hand?”

Though my smile is evident, my heart is crushed. I feel the tears come back but I kept a positive face on, for him. And with a faint voice, I tell him to go for it. Take Yu Ra’s hand. She misses him so much too. And now, they’d be together again. In the end, it will still be they’re love that will blossom.

Because it’s true love.

Changjo knew from the start that his Leukaemia was incurable but that didn’t mean he gave up on life. He stopped taking medication and spent every day of his time looking out the window, talking to her—to Yu Ra. I guess she never left after all. I have never talked to him because whenever I come by, he’s talking to someone else; he was talking to Yu Ra.

Somewhere out there, I know they’re looking down at me—where Yu Ra had always been watching from.

I’ll find my true love too someday. And when I do, I hope it’s like theirs: love that will defy everything, even death—true love.