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The soft hum of the air conditioner was a sole companion in the quiet night. The white, big walls stood firmly, surrounding them like prison bars, mocking them for the noisy thoughts echoing in their heads—thoughts they weren't brave enough to bring up. Sitting on the left side of the room was Yejun, his hands folded neatly on the table. Across from him, a blond-haired man straightened his back. His hair was tied loosely half up, letting some strands fall over his face.
"We need to talk," had been said fifteen minutes ago. The cream on the cake had all melted by now.
Yet nothing came out of their mouths but long, heavy sighs.
"The clock is ticking," someone finally said. He unwrapped a sucker and put it in his mouth.
Yejun looked up, his eyes met Noah's—the blue eyes that used to glow whenever he was there now beginning to dull. Then his lips parted, as if a surge of words was forcing its way out, but he froze, slowly gazing down to his own hands on the table.
"... So what do you want? A divorce?"
No. That wasn't what he wanted to say.
Noah's face remained flat, not even showing a sign of surprise. As if he'd already expected it to happen. As if he knew exactly what words would escape that man's lips.
"So easy for you to say that word, huh."
Yejun leaned back, arms folded across his chest. "Everything I do always looks wrong in your eyes, anyways," he added, "when all of this is for your own good."
"All of this is for me?" Noah's voice was a pitch higher. "I never asked for any of this, Yejun-ah."
"I know," Yejun replied fast. "You never asked, not even once—but if I'm not like this, then what about your parents? Even after all the hard work I put in this whole time, they still look down on me."
The sound of candy breaking echoed in the tense room. Noah bit it down before throwing the stick away. His jaw clenched and his brows furrowed deeply—it was clear that he was trying to suppress his anger. "You're married to me—I'm your wife, Yejun-ah. You should think more about me than anyone else. I never looked at what you have, what you could offer me. I accept everything about you. Is that all still not enough?"
The chair creaked as Yejun leaned forward. "Noah, right from the beginning, I've always been so grateful to be able to marry you, after everything we've been through. I've always tried to endure your family's attitude toward me. I don't mind them being that way with me, but not to you—not when they insult you because of me. I can't take it."
Once again, the room turned quiet. Noah's hands trembled as he reached for his chest, afraid if the sound of his thumping heart could be heard from the outside. His eyes started to water. The memories of what had happened a year ago rent free in his head.
"What should I do to make you believe that I don't care, Yejun-ah?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "I never even listened to any of their insults. I just want us to live happily with our little family. As long as I'm with you, Yejun-ah ... Is it that hard?"
A drop of tear fell, but Noah wasn't bothered at all. He only took a deep, shaky breath, trying so hard not to fall apart—even though he could feel it already.
Everything he'd been holding together, now beginning to shatter.
"I can still forgive you for prioritizing your damn works over our anniversaries, but Jun-ah, you weren't even home at Bonggu's birthdays, to the point he'd stopped asking about your existence. You were even late to his engagement party last year and rushed back to work as soon as it was over."
Noah's lips trembled, his voice barely above breath.
"Is that what you call a father?"
Something within him snapped, and Yejun couldn't deny that. No matter how painful it was, or how hard he wanted to defend himself, everything Noah said was all true.
"You're right—I failed as a husband and a father." His hands clenched into fists. "But you don't understand, Noah. You'll never understand."
Noah put his hands on his laps. His eyes wavered as he rubbed the ring clung around his finger. He could still remember vividly the tears he shed when Yejun first proposed to him. How he scolded Yejun after he found out the sleepless nights he had just because he wanted to buy him the ring. From then on, Noah had never been taken it off—not even once. He even refused when Yejun offered him a new, better one.
Yejun was a hard-working person, there was no denying it. Even when everything fell down, he didn't waver and continued to move forward.
And Noah would always be there—walking alongside him, reminding him to slow down. "Everything will be okay," was Yejun's favorite phrase from Noah.
Nam Yejun had a sturdy back to protect the one he held dear—his safe place, his home: Han Noah. This time too, he put up a strong shield and continued to take all the bullets.
As long as Noah wasn't hurt.
Or so he thought.
"Is it me who doesn't understand, or are you just being selfish?"
Yejun's lips parted, but no words could come out. The view in front of him would forever torment him.
How I wish it were only a dream.
As tears streamed down his cheeks, Noah's eyelids fluttered shut. Slowly, he brought his hand to his lips. A soft kiss landed on the ring.
Then he took it off, putting it gently on the table.
"Maybe you're right, after all ... our time together is over."
Noah gazed into Yejun's eyes—the sapphires now beginning to water. A faint smile tucked at his lips despite the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes.
"We had so much fun, all these years. Bonggu even came to our lives ... our most precious gift."
A soft chuckle escaped as he wiped his tears away. The memories of when they first found out about his pregnancy still lingered in his mind. The days full of tears and struggles, yet remained as the most beautiful memory in their entire life.
"Thank you for everything, Nam Yejun. Let's live without any regret."
By the time Yejun realized, Noah had already walked out of the room, leaving him alone with a hand hanging in the air and a cheek wet with tears. The door shut with a click. Yejun brought his hand down.
Han Noah, more than I knew, I was so in love with you.
***
"Dad,"
Yejun turned at the voice—a voice he was too familiar with. For half a second, his heart skipped a beat. Then his face softened, a smile adorned his face.
"Ready?"
The pink-haired man clicked his tongue, his hands still busy with the veil. "Is my makeup okay? They had to lessen the blush since I flushed a lot earlier. Ugh, what do I do?!"
A soft chuckle slipped from the blue-haired man. Yejun reached for his son's shoulder, gazing softly at the magenta eyes before him. "You look so pretty, Bonggu-ya." A pause—a hesitation. "... Too much like your mom."
Bonggu threw a giggle. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is," Yejun answered quickly. He offered his arm, his tone shifted—just a little.
"Eunho is a good man." He looked at the door right in front of them, eyes beginning to sting. "Hold onto him."
There was a second pause before Bonggu slipped his hand through. "I will."
Just right when the doors opened and music started to play, Yejun whispered, barely above breath, "Do better than I did."
And Bonggu replied, voice more hoarse than it should be, "You did okay, Dad."
Yejun swallowed hard. A lump in his throat forced him to look up and blink multiple times before he looked straight ahead. The aisle is right there.
Every step was slow and deliberate. "Don't be nervous," was said quietly every time Bonggu seemed to tense up. Just a few more steps, Yejun thought. There, a silver-haired man had been waiting. Yejun giggled softly. Noah-ya ... back then, did I look as stiff as Eunho is now?
Finally, they reached the altar. Bonggu let go of Yejun's arm first—not because he was ready, but because he had to. And Yejun didn't step away immediately. He looked at Eunho, then a brief nod followed. Gently, he took Bonggu's hand, placing it into the groom's with care.
Then a pause for a breath, before he stepped back.
When he turned away, those blue eyes had already been there. They found his, glistening and trembling slightly. It wasn't dramatic—none of them even threw a smile at each other. Just a fraction of a second before he broke it first.
Because staying would turn it into something else.
Yejun continued to walk toward the empty seat. Right beside him was a young woman with blond hair. She bowed slightly in her seat, a faint smile adorned her face. Then she straightened her back—like a solid wall separating what was once united.
The chair was a little warm from the sun. Yejun placed his hands on his knees. For half a second, he couldn't feel anything but emptiness. Then he looked up—at where his son was standing with a smile as bright as the sky. He took a shaky breath, lips curling into a faint smile.
That day, you also smiled that brightly, Noah.
There was a tightness in his chest—something bitter he didn't want to admit. As the grooms leaned toward each other, and the guests began to cheer, beneath the azure sky, Yejun finally let a tear fall.
Han Noah, even now, you remain my light.