The sharp crackle of firecrackers echoed through the streets, bidding farewell to the old year. At midnight, the sky erupted with fireworks, and the dense chorus of explosions surrounded the city from every direction. The earlier sporadic bursts had now become a deafening, unrelenting wave, filling the night with an almost suffocating festivity.

  Park Tae-hyun idly blew on his nails, his gaze distant. The noise outside had nothing to do with him. He had no home to return to—not really. Though technically, he had a "home" now, he had no desire to go back. It was just a place, a space occupied by things, not warmth. Not belonging.

  People often fantasized about a second chance in life. They'd say bold, impassioned words—claiming they would seize the opportunity, carve a different path, rewrite their destiny. That they'd correct their mistakes, chase their long-buried dreams.

  But when you really crawled back from hell, you realized how childish those thoughts were. Aspirations, ambitions, desires—what were they, really? Just like when a kindergarten teacher asks children, What do you want to be when you grow up?

  And they answer in unison—a scientist, a doctor, an astronaut, a soldier…

  Bright-eyed and full of conviction.

  Dreams always seemed so full. Overflowing, endless.

  Reality wasn't necessarily bleak, but a person's enthusiasm was finite, destined to drain away, drop by drop.

  Sometimes, simply sitting there, breathing, hearing the world move around you, wasting time at your own pace—that alone felt like peace. Like truly being alive.

  The bookstore's glass door let out a soft creak as Baek Cheong-won locked up for the night. He always slept in the store. He had once boasted about owning more than twenty properties, but Tae-hyun knew the truth—his parents were here, in this store.

  A family should stay together.

  And for Koreans, the New Year was such an event to be together.

  Outside, a slow drizzle began to fall, the moisture seeping into the air, pressing against the skin like an invisible weight. The cold wasn't unbearable, but it carried a quiet melancholy, sinking deep into the bones.

  Tae-hyun's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, the screen glowing in the dim light.

  It was his wife.

  He stared at the caller ID for a second before answering.

  "Hello."

  "Are you asleep?" Dr. Im's voice was soft, but he could hear the faint hum of traffic behind her.

  Tae-hyun found the question amusing.

  If I were asleep, who would be answering your call?

  A dead person? No, a dead ghost?

  Wait.

  Something about that thought didn't sit right.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He leaned back in his chair, lips twitching at the mental image of Dr. Im standing in front of him, her brows furrowed, jabbing a finger into his chest—You damned bastard…

  For some reason, the scene was so vivid, so oddly dazzling. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe his mind was running in circles from too much idleness.

  He exhaled through his nose.

  "No."

  Just then, the door creaked again.

  Dr. Im stepped inside, shaking the raindrops off a deep red umbrella. She wore black leather pants, a white sweater, and her long, dark hair draped over her shoulders.

  For a moment, Tae-hyun forgot to lower his phone.

  This woman.

  She was stunning.

  Not just her appearance, but her presence—like a snapshot of a memory preserved in time, forever unchanged. The kind of beauty that, no matter how much time passed, could pierce straight through a man's heart.

  "Are you afraid I'd be lonely?" Tae-hyun asked, standing up to pour her a glass of water.

  She was the rightful owner of this place.

  After all, the money that Kim Min-Woo, the man whose body he now occupied, had used to open this bookstore had come from her family.

  Dr. Im took the glass, shaking her head without a word.

  They were husband and wife, at least in name. But in truth, they were little more than familiar strangers, caught in an awkward limbo—closer than friends, yet unable to bridge the distance.

  Going forward seemed impossible.

  Going back? Even harder.

  Tae-hyun glanced around the room. The air felt stifling. He had no intention of inviting her upstairs to his room.

  Even if, by some miracle, Dr. Im decided tonight was the night she would throw caution to the wind and "feed herself to the tiger," one look at his freezer upstairs would probably send her scrambling to call the nearest mental hospital.

  "Let's go for a walk," he said.

  She hesitated.

  "It's raining," she pointed out.

  Tae-hyun waved a hand dismissively. "Just a drizzle."

  Hwa-la-la…

  The heavens, it seemed, had other plans.

  Within moments, the rain turned into a downpour, drenching him to the bone.

  Meanwhile, Dr. Im stood under her umbrella, bone dry, watching him with an unreadable expression. Tae-hyun, stubborn as ever, refused to share.

  What was the point of pretending to be cool if you didn't commit fully, even if it meant suffering for it?

  He ran a hand through his soaked hair, suppressing a shiver. He wasn't particularly sensitive to the cold, but Dr. Im, despite staying dry, was trembling slightly.

  The bus stop provided some shelter, but the cold night wind was merciless.

  A classic romantic setup.

  Man and woman. A rainy night. A moment of vulnerability.

  It should've been a golden opportunity—a perfect scene for deepening feelings, for stirring something new if this were a drama, maybe even a fated mistake, a slip of control, an "accidental discharge of the gun" that would rewrite their relationship.

  But silence stretched between them like a chasm.

  Tae-hyun lit a cigarette.

  Dr. Im stood beside him, not saying a word.

  One wanted to run.

  The other resisted.

  There was no way they could meet halfway.

  A forced connection—whether love, fate, or even a simple conversation—was like an unripe fruit picked too early. Bitter, awkward, and full of regret.

  Tae-hyun felt an unreasonable bitterness toward Xu Le.

  If only that coward had taken charge of his own marriage. If only he had done something. Maybe things wouldn't be so awkward now. Maybe Dr. Im would've been deeply in love, devoted, maybe even a mother by now.

  Hell, even if she had been stuck in a loveless marriage, at least then, he wouldn't be in this mess.

  Then again, if Xu Le had done something that night, would Dr. Im have fought back? Called the police? Charged him with assault?

  The rain continued falling.

  Tae-hyun flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing the embers beneath his heel.

  "Did you drive?"

  Dr. Im shook her head. "Took a taxi."

  "I'll take you home."

  A quiet "Mm" was her only response.

  Neither of them spoke on the way back.

  When they arrived, they lingered outside the building. It felt like a scene from a teenage romance—standing there under the dim streetlight, hesitant to part, though there was no real reason to stay.

  Dr. Im turned to him. "Aren't you coming up?"

  He shook his head. "We'll settle things soon."

  She understood immediately.

  "I'm sorry."

  Tae-hyun smiled, reaching out as if to pat her shoulder, but at the last second, he hesitated. Instead, he pulled her into a loose embrace.

  She stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull away.

  She smelled… nice. A soft, clean scent.

  "Do you have someone else in your heart?" he asked.

  "Yes," she answered without hesitation.