Broken. Hyejeong had never understood why people called themselves that. People didnât break, couldnât break. Glass broke, clocks broke - stopped working properly until someone fixed them - and so did cars, TVs, phones⌠but not people. No matter how much she felt like she had stopped working, like she was not fully alive anymore, she was not broken. Her heart was pumping blood through her veins the way it always had, her brain was making her body do all the things it had always done, and she hadnât stopped breathing either. She was not brokenâHow could she call herself broken when she was the same as everyone else? Yet no matter how often she told herself that she was fine, that sheâd be alright, time passed and nothing happened. She didnât feel better, she didnât feel worseâshe was caught in this state of constant numbness, like she had fallen into a deep black hole she just couldnât get out of again. Still, she was too tired to care. Time passed, and she went on with her life. She breathed, her heart pumped blood through her veins, and she smiled the same empty, meaningless smileâevery single day.
Apparently, he had done the same: he had carried on with his life, had kept doing what he had been doing before like nothing ever happened, because soon enough, her group and his met up in the waiting room of one of the many broadcasting stations, promoting at the same time yet againâ but one thing was different. He didnât smile, not even when she forced herself to smile more widely, and all of a sudden she started hurting. An inexplicable pain shot through her, like someone had rammed a thousand tiny daggers into her body. Blinking back tears she knew shouldnât even be there after such a long time, she turned around, frustrated with herself and frustrated because the numbness she had gotten so used to was no longer there.
âDonât go.â For a moment, she didnât even recognize his voice. It was low and barely above a whisper, but somehow she knew it was himâit had to be himâ, and that knowledge had her stopping in her tracks. Then she could feel his fingers encircle her wristâshe would recognize his hand anywhere, the only one hers had ever fit into perfectlyâand she turned around, biting her lip to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. The next moment she was in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder because his height had always been just right, and without really thinking about it, her arms found their way around his body the way they always had, as if they were made for it.
Oddly enough, it was at that moment that Hyejeong understood why people called themselves broken, and why it actually was an accurate description. People didnât break the way glass or clocks broke, they broke the way puzzles did. The pieces were always there, always with them, which was why their bodies continued working, but they needed someone to put them back together, because they simply couldnât do it on their own. They might try, like Hyejeong herself had, but they couldnât get it right, so the picture would never be beautiful, would never be right, and their smiles would never be sincere. Hyejeong understood now. Youngjae knew the exact way to put her puzzle pieces together to get the most beautiful picture, and only with him could she be her happiest. âI thought we werenât meant to be. I thought it would be better if we went separate ways⌠I donât think so anymore.â The words had left her mouth before she had had the chance to properly think them through, but she honestly didnât care. Even if he should end up rejecting her, she felt like she had needed to say that. For a couple of minutes, Youngjae stayed silent until finally he said, âYou know, I think the word âmarriageâ has a nice ring to it,â and for the first time since they had broken up, Hyejeong genuinely laughed.
