IWYFB Chapter 1

“I don’t know why the snow keeps falling like there’s no end to it. The house is already desolate without family, and now even those who wished to pay their respects will turn back before they arrive.”

Mr. Kim clicked his tongue as he cast a fleeting glance into the empty funeral hall.

That morning, an unannounced blizzard had descended upon Haeju, blanketing the town in an unrelenting white shroud.

Roads turned to sheets of ice, and in places where snow plows could not reach, entire stretches had become impassable, the list of closed routes growing by the hour.

News reports repeated the same grim update, dozens of vehicles stranded in the snow, their passengers trapped cut off from the world.

Inside the funeral hall, silence reigned.

A woman, clad in mourning black, rested her head against the wall, her vacant gaze locked onto the framed portrait of the deceased.

The man in the photograph wore a neatly pressed charcoal-gray suit, the very suit she had bought for him with her first paycheck.

She had done so little for him in life, yet her father had found her beautiful, even as an undeserving daughter.

And now, in the photograph he was still smiling warmly at her.

At least, she consoled herself, he seemed at peace.

“Ji-woo, there’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy.”

Her father had always been a quiet, steadfast man. Yet, on the day he shed those heavy, silent tears, something within her had shattered.

She had wanted to show him a life where she thrived, where she smiled, where she was at peace.

Instead, she had failed him and made him weep, this man who had carried his burdens alone for so long.

Haeju had been his home, his foundation, yet also his prison, bound by poverty and duty.

He had often called this land both his solace and his sorrow. And in the end, it was she who had torn him away from it.

She still remembered the day she left, how he had stood at the threshold of their home for the first time in his life, finally turning his back on the place he had never abandoned.

He had told her he felt a strange sense of relief, yet she had caught the glint of tears in his eyes.

Though she left with the weight of guilt on her shoulders, she had sworn to return one day with a smile, to prove to him that it had been worth it.

Never, not even in her darkest dreams, had she imagined she would bring him back to Haeju this way.

Leaning back against the cold wall, she tore her gaze away from his portrait and stared up at the ceiling.

Her mind was empty.

With every slow blink, his absence pressed harder against her chest.

Her father had always known when she was struggling, always appeared at her side before she even called his name.

But now he would never come again.

The thought struck her like a wave of ice, sweeping over her, drowning her in a fear she could not outrun.

“Father…”

Before she knew it, tears traced silent paths down her face, unstoppable.

Somewhere in the depths of her grief, she half-expected him to emerge from the shadows, to tell her it was all a nightmare, that she only needed to wake.

 

“There will be moments when it feels like your world has collapsed. But no matter how many times you fall, endure it. Time will pass, and one day, the pain will become nothing more than a season you once lived through. And just like the seasons, happiness will find its way back to you. Believe that, Ji-woo. The bad endings never last. There will always be a better one waiting.”

 

She remembered his words, the way he had reassured her on the nights she thought she could bear no more.

Ji-woo clutched her arms around herself, muffling her sobs, but in the end, she could not hold them in.

Her sorrow broke free, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the empty hall.

 

🥀

 

Outside, the funeral wreaths stood in silent rows, their pristine petals a stark contrast to the night’s deepening storm.

The snow had not relented, nor had the darkness, the roads remained impassable, the world beyond the funeral home swallowed in endless white.

As the hour neared midnight, the quiet funeral hall doors swung open.

A tall man stepped inside.

Snowflakes clung to the black wool of his coat, melting within moments under the hall’s warmth.

His polished shoes echoed down the corridor as he turned a corner and paused, hesitating before the entrance.

Then, as if deciding against his own reluctance, he strode forward with purpose, his gaze falling immediately upon the portrait at the altar.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled a single white chrysanthemum from his grasp and placed it carefully before the photograph.

Then, kneeling, he bowed low, his forehead touching the cold floor.

Ji-woo, startled by the unexpected visitor, rose weakly to her feet.

Her first instinct was to thank him for braving the blizzard to come, but when she lifted her eyes and met his gaze, the words faltered on her tongue.

A ripple of recognition, sharp and sudden, passed through her.

She could not speak.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbroken, until at last, he spoke first.

“My deepest condolences.”

His voice was low, firm, and devoid of warmth.

His cold, detached eyes swept over her pale, grief-stricken face.

Though he stood so close, he felt impossibly distant.

Another pause.

Then his gaze flickered, tracing the strands of her disheveled hair, the trembling uncertainty in her eyes.

Ji-woo swallowed against the burning in her throat, forcing down the tears that threatened to rise again.

‘Father… he’s here. The man you always wanted to see.’

Her gaze drifted from her father’s portrait back to the man before her.

“You… how did you know?”

She had never called. She had never intended to. And yet, somehow, he had found his way here.

His jaw tensed, the smallest flicker of something unreadable passing through his features.

“Your father’s old friend reached out to me.”

It must have been Mr. Kim.

Though her father had distanced himself from friends after she left, they had not forgotten him. The wreaths at the entrance bore their names.

Five years.

Five years had slipped through her fingers like an arrow that had strayed far from its mark.

Ji-woo glanced around the empty hall, suddenly uneasy.

The blizzard had left them isolated, with even the attendants gone.

She did not wish to linger here with him. Yet, as her father’s guest, she could not simply send him away.

“If you would like to sit, I can bring you something, ”

“I’m fine. Have you eaten?”

The question caught her off guard.

She had no appetite.

How could she, when her insides felt hollow?

Ji-woo exhaled sharply, fixing him with a cold stare.

“Thank you for coming.”

She turned, intending to put distance between them, when a sudden commotion erupted at the entrance.

A familiar voice, thick with grief, cried out.

“Oh, my heavens! What has happened?”

Ji-woo’s breath caught.

A woman she knew well, a neighbor who had once been like a sister to her mother, entered followed by others.

Despite the storm, they had come.

Her chest tightened as the woman knelt before the altar, her cries shaking the silent hall.

“You poor child… Your mother, where is she?”

“In the hospital.”

At Ji-woo’s answer, the woman sobbed harder, clutching her hands.

Through the haze of her sorrow, Ji-woo suddenly heard another voice, an exclamation from the mourners.

“Wait… is that Tae-moo?”

She turned, startled, as the man beside her inclined his head in greeting.

“…It has been a long time.”

The past had come for her at last.