The rain hadn't stopped in three days — as if the skies themselves were grieving what they couldn't explain.
Ha-eun stood in the grand living room of the Kang estate, her fingers clutching the edge of the fireplace as another wave of nausea swept through her. She was pale — too pale. The light no longer danced in her eyes, and the fire burning inside her had dimmed to a flicker.
She heard footsteps. Slow. Hesitant.
"Why are you here?" she asked without turning.
Jun-seo's voice was tired. "Your brother said you collapsed again. I had a right to know."
She laughed softly, bitterly. "You gave up that right the moment you signed the divorce agreement."
A beat of silence passed. The kind that squeezes your chest.
Jun-seo stepped into the room. The last time he was here, he left slamming the door behind him. Now, he walked like the house itself was mourning.
"I never submitted the papers," he said, voice low.
Ha-eun turned sharply. "What?"
"I lied. I kept them in my drawer… because something told me I wasn't done fighting for you."
She stared at him. Jun-seo, in his wet coat, looked nothing like the rich man she once fell in love with. He looked like a ghost clinging to a memory.
"You think love is enough?" she asked coldly. "You think it can fix this?"
"I don't know," he said. "But I know something's wrong, Ha-eun. You're vanishing in front of everyone and pretending it's just a cold."
She said nothing.
He stepped closer. "What is it? Talk to me."
Still, silence. Then her eyes filled with unshed tears.
"It's not just a cold," she whispered.
His breath caught.
Ha-eun walked past him to the window. Outside, the rain ran down the glass like the tears she refused to shed.
"It's my brain," she said, flatly. "Something's eating it."
He froze. "What… what are you saying?"
"I have a condition. Rare. It's stealing my memories. My personality. Soon, even the hate I feel for you will fade."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Jun-seo staggered backward like he'd been slapped. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you already left me, Jun-seo. You left when I was begging you to stay and you kept choosing work, pride, everything else over me. I didn't want you to pity me."
"I didn't leave you," he said, his voice breaking. "I waited every night for you to come home. I cooked for you. You never ate. I said I loved you, and you said, 'Okay.' What else was I supposed to do?"
Ha-eun turned, her face streaked with tears. "You were supposed to love me louder. Loud enough to drown out my pain."
Jun-seo took a shaky breath. "Then let me do it now. I don't care what's happening. I'm not walking away this time."
She looked at him, heart wide open but too scared to hope.
"You won't survive the storm inside me," she whispered.
"I'd rather drown in it than live another day without you."
The thunder cracked above them, and just for a moment, the broken pieces of their hearts fit back together.
But storms don't end that easily. And neither do secrets.
Because just beyond that warm reunion, in a private room upstairs, her family doctor stood by her latest scan… and he knew something she hadn't been told yet.
Ha-eun wasn't just forgetting.
She was dying.
The soft creak of the stairs echoed from above. Jun-seo looked up instinctively, his protective instinct snapping back into place. Even now — after all the pain, the distance, the silent wars — one cry from her would make him rush blindly into fire.
Ha-eun sat down slowly, her fingers trembling against the armrest of the velvet chair. Her pulse had quickened. That usually meant it was starting again — the disorientation, the dizziness, the shadows moving in her mind.
"Jun-seo," she said, barely audible.
He was at her side in seconds. "What is it? Are you hurting?"
She shook her head. "No. I… I just want to remember how it felt. When we were happy."
The words stabbed deeper than she realized.
He crouched beside her, eyes locked on hers. "Do you remember Jeju Island? The cottage with the broken heater?"
A small smile touched her lips. "We lit candles and told ghost stories… then ended up sleeping in the bathtub because it was warmer."
Jun-seo laughed — a broken, grateful sound. "You made me promise we'd go back every year."
"I broke that promise," she whispered.
"No," he said, gripping her hand gently. "We broke. But I think we can still be fixed."
Her hand twitched in his. She was losing strength faster now. That scared him.
"Can you take me away?" she asked suddenly.
Jun-seo blinked. "What?"
"Just… away from here. The house. The company. My family. I need air, Jun-seo. Before I forget what freedom feels like."
He hesitated, knowing the Kangs would never let their precious daughter vanish without answers. But he saw it — the desperation in her eyes. The woman he loved wasn't gone yet. But she was fading.
And he wouldn't let that happen.
"Pack what you need," he said softly. "We leave tonight."
For the first time in months, she looked at him with something close to hope.
But upstairs, the doctor made a call.
"She's deteriorating faster than expected," he said. "And she still doesn't know the whole truth."
A voice answered coldly on the other end. "Then keep it that way. If she leaves the house, follow her. And make sure Kang Jun-seo never finds out what really happened three years ago."
The call ended. The doctor turned back to the scan.
There, in the middle of the bright brain scan, pulsed a shadow no one dared name.
Ha-eun stood in front of her wardrobe, staring at the rows of expensive clothes she no longer cared for. She didn't need status tonight. She needed peace. Warmth. And Jun-seo's hand to hold if she forgot how to walk on her own.
From the hallway, she could hear him on the phone, speaking quietly to someone from his side of the family. Arranging a private car. Somewhere far — maybe the countryside, maybe the beach again — anywhere she could feel real again, if only for a little while.
She folded her mother's old scarf into her travel bag and paused.
Her fingers grazed something — a folded paper at the bottom of the drawer. She opened it.
A prescription slip. Her name was typed clearly at the top.
But the medication wasn't one she remembered ever taking.
Her eyes scanned lower. Then her hands began to tremble.
Patient exhibits signs of memory distortion unrelated to initial diagnosis. Possible induced amnesia. Source unclear. Further testing required. Do not inform patient.
Her knees buckled, and she sat on the edge of the bed, heart racing.
What did this mean?
Had her family known something more?
Had someone… done this to her?
The door opened quietly. Jun-seo entered, holding her coat. "The car's ready. I—"
He stopped. Her face was pale again, but not from illness this time.
"What is it?" he asked.
She slowly handed him the note.
Jun-seo read it. His jaw clenched. "Where did you find this?"
"In my drawer. It's dated two months ago. Why would my own doctor lie to me? Who's trying to control what I remember?"
His hands shook.
"Ha-eun…" he said carefully, "do you remember the accident?"
Her eyes flickered.
"I… I was told it was a car accident. I hit my head."
"You were told that," he echoed, bitterly. "But you never believed it."
A silence. A storm brewing again.
She looked into his eyes. "Tell me what you know, Jun-seo."
He lowered his gaze.
"I don't know everything. But I know someone in your family didn't want you to remember what happened that night. And if this paper is real, it means they may have… done something to make sure you never would."
She sat frozen, her entire world shifting beneath her.
Outside, the rain turned violent. A storm had officially begun.
She whispered, "Then we need to leave now."
Jun-seo helped her to her feet and wrapped the scarf around her shoulders.
As they walked toward the door, neither of them noticed the figure watching from the hallway camera — one of the Kang family's hidden eyes. Recording every move. Every secret step they thought was safe.
And far from the estate, a woman sat alone in a dark room, staring at a photo of Ha-eun and Jun-seo from years ago.
She lit a match. The edge of the photo caught fire.
"She was never meant to live this long," the woman murmured. "And if Jun-seo keeps digging… he'll burn with her."