FALLING BACK
chapter one.

KANG HANA stood on the edge of the balcony, the city lights sprawling beneath her like a sea of forgotten dreams. She had come here countless times to clear her mind, but tonight was different.

The night breeze played with her hair, tangling the strands around her face, whispering secrets of the past and echoes of a future she was too afraid to confront.

Love.

She pondered the word, the concept, the feeling that had once seemed so elusive and then all-consuming.

Hana remembered the first intoxicating taste of it.

It wasn't just an emotion; it was a sensation, a blinding brightness that rivalled the sun. She could still see Sun-Jae's smile. It wasn't just any smile; it was a beacon, brighter than any summer day, illuminating the darkest corners of her heart. It was in those moments, when his lips curved upwards and his eyes sparkled with genuine joy, that she felt the first flutter of something profound. His smile was a map to her soul, a compass guiding her through the treacherous waters of fame and fortune.

Sun-Jae's eyes were her true north. They held the universe within them, galaxies of emotions that she could lose herself in. His eyes always gave away his true feelings, even when his words did not. They were windows to his soul, and through them, she saw everything — love, pain, hope, and despair. In those eyes, she discovered her first understanding of what it meant to be truly seen, truly known, and deeply loved.

But love was not just light and warmth; it was also shadow and chill . . . and heartbreak.

Heartbreak for Hana was the way his radiant smile faltered and fell when she left him on one knee, a ring in his trembling hand, a question in his eyes that she was too cowardly to answer. Heartbreak was the shattering of his dreams and the crumbling of her own resolve.

She was a coward.

Too scared to face the hate and rejection, too selfish to sacrifice her career, or his for that matter, for the love Sun-Jae was never afraid to give.

And loss.

Oh, the loss.

It was the way his eyes became empty — devoid of the life and light she had come to cherish. It was the cold, lifeless body lying in a wooden casket, dressed in a black suit that did nothing to warm the chill of death. And his face . . . once so full of warmth, was pale and cold, a stark reminder of all that she had lost and all that she could never reclaim.

The moment Hana found out about Sun-Jae's death, it was as if the world had shifted beneath her feet, a violent lurch that left her reeling. The words spoken to her over the phone were incomprehensible at first, a distant murmur that didn't quite penetrate the fog of her disbelief. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the desperate hope that this was all a cruel misunderstanding. The reality of it seemed too immense, too catastrophic to accept.

As she rushed to the hospital, her mind was a storm of denial and dread, each step fueled by the fragile hope that she would find him alive, that somehow this nightmare would end. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel; her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed.

Arriving at the hospital, the stark fluorescent lights seemed to mock her desperation. She saw her brother, In-Hyuk, standing with Sun-Jae's bandmates, their faces pale and eyes red-rimmed from crying. The sight of them, united in their shared grief, made her heart clench painfully. But it was Sun-Jae's father that shattered her last defenses.

The old man was on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, his body wracked with the kind of sorrow that can only come from losing a child. His cries were a raw, guttural sound that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, a haunting echo of her own internal agony. It was in that moment, seeing the undeniable proof of their shared tragedy, that Hana finally broke down. The walls she had so desperately tried to maintain crumbled, and she collapsed into a fit of tears, the weight of her guilt and sorrow overwhelming her completely.

The days following Sun-Jae's death and the funeral passed in a blur for Hana. The world around her seemed to move on as if nothing had changed, but for her, every second was an agonizing eternity. Faces blurred together, condolences were a distant echo, and the endless stream of flowers felt like a mockery of the life that had been lost.

She moved through each day mechanically, her body a hollow vessel devoid of purpose. Nights were worse, filled with haunting memories and dreams that shattered upon waking, leaving her with the unbearable reality that he was truly gone. Her eyes were perpetually swollen from crying, her heart a relentless ache that no number of tears could soothe.

The cold wind bit through her thick coat, making her shiver as she stood on the balcony they once shared. The city lights below blurred through her tears, creating a kaleidoscope of colours that did nothing to pierce the darkness enveloping her. In her hand, she clutched the ring Sun-Jae had proposed to her with its cold metal biting into her palm as if trying to anchor her to a reality she no longer wished to inhabit. She squeezed it so tightly that the sharp edges dug into her skin, the pain a fleeting distraction from the abyss of sorrow consuming her.

The wind whipped around her, a chilling breeze that seeped through her thick funeral coat and into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably. But she couldn't tell if it was the wind or the relentless grief that caused her body to tremble.

Her mind was a storm of thoughts, but the loudest one was a voice, insistent and relentless, telling her to take that one step.

Just one step. Towards nothingness. Towards silence.

What would change, anyway? One step, and all the pain, the regrets, the relentless voices in her head — they would all stop. The past would cease to haunt her. The future would no longer loom like a specter. One step, and reality would become a distant memory, a far cry from the torment she endured.

She wondered, what if she actually fell? Her parents would be devastated, drowning in guilt and sorrow, blaming themselves for not seeing her pain. Her friends would carry the weight of her loss, never able to shake the feeling that they could have done something, anything, to save her.

And In-hyuk . . . Oh, In-hyuk. Her twin brother, her other half. He would never be the same, knowing that he lost yet another person he loved in the darkness of despair.

And then she wondered, would they even care? Would they grieve as she thought they would, or would she become just another painful memory, eventually forgotten as time marched on? She pictured their reactions, replayed the scenes in her mind over and over until they were etched into her consciousness.

Who would find her? Her parents? In-hyuk? Or a random stranger, whose life would be forever scarred by the sight of her broken body?

But deep down, Hana knew she wasn't strong enough. Not strong enough to take that step, to let go of the world she had fought so hard to be a part of. Not strong enough to escape the life that had once held so much promise.

And she wondered, how did Sun-Jae do it? Did he have the same thoughts, the same fears? Or was he too numb, too silent, to consider the consequences of his actions?

The internet was awash with articles and posts about idols and artists' mental health, a chorus of voices speaking out too late. It made her angry. Why now? Why, when he was gone? When nothing could be done to bring him back?

And yet, people still sent her death threats, blamed her for Sun-Jae's demise, calling her names because their beloved idol had been dating her, had broken up with her just days before his death. She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the night. Not because it was funny, or because it was absurd. It was because, deep down, she knew there was some truth to their words. She had been the last to cut his string of hope, the final push that sent him over the edge. Or so the detectives said.

Here she was, with voices in her head urging her to do it. Just one step and everything would end. The pain, the regrets, the endless what-ifs. One step and it would all die down.

Do it.

Do it.

Do it.

The chant grew louder, a relentless drumbeat in her mind.

"Do it."

The voice was different this time, not her own. It was close, too close, like a whisper in her ear. She turned, but there was no one there. Her heart pounded, a wild rhythm in her chest. The world seemed to tilt, the edge of the balcony blurring as her vision swam.

"Do it," the voice said again, and Hana felt her foot slip. She lost her balance, a gasp tearing from her throat as she tumbled forward. The night air rushed past her, cold and unforgiving, and for a moment, everything was dark.

And then there was nothing.

Or she thought she was supposed to feel nothing when death hits her.

Instead, it was a wooden ground.

Her body collided with the hard surface, the impact jarring her bones. For a moment, she lay there, disoriented and confused, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The sensation of cold, wooden planks against her skin was unmistakable, and as her mind struggled to catch up, she realized she wasn't falling anymore.

Suddenly, a sharp pain struck her head. She winced, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the spot where she'd been hit. A ball rolled away from her, its path suggesting it had been the source of her sudden pain.

Hana blinked, her vision swimming. She looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. It wasn't the dark, endless void she had expected. Instead, she found herself in what appeared to be an old school gymnasium, its polished wooden floor stretching out beneath her.

As she struggled to sit up, a figure appeared above her, blocking out the dim lights. The person's features slowly came into focus, and Hana's breath caught in her throat.

Shin Hye-In.

Her childhood best friend.

Her best friend who was supposed to be dead.

What? Hana thought, her mind racing. This had to be a dream, a cruel twist of her subconscious playing tricks on her in her most vulnerable moment.

"Hana-ya, are you okay?" Hye-In's voice broke through the haze, laced with concern. Hana tried to respond, to assure her friend that she was fine, but her voice failed her, lost in the overwhelming confusion.

Hye-In's worried expression mirrored her own turmoil, their eyes locking in a silent exchange of disbelief and uncertainty.

Hana tried to call out Hye-In's name, but it came out as nothing more than a breathy whisper. Her vision blurred again, the edges darkening as if she were being pulled back into the abyss.

Hye-In's face grew more distant, her worried expression the last thing Hana saw before the world around her went black once more.

𓆸 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝄢

so the fun begins! i don't have much to say, but heartbreak is on the way . . . !