Chapter 9: Don’t Fall in Love with the Girl Who’s Healing
They didn’t walk fast that evening.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvPmcSxgF2M
Jepoy never made her rush anyway.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ0WobigcJ6
But this time, Erica was the one slowing down—not because she was tired, but because something heavy was growing inside her chest, and she didn’t know how to set it down.
The stars above Seoul were quiet, blinking between buildings, while streetlights hummed beneath their footsteps. Her cane tapped lightly as they passed by rows of street vendors. The scent of tteokbokki and odeng filled the cold air, warm and familiar.
Jepoy had just bought her a skewer of fishcake, placing it in her hand with a shy “mainit pa, dahan-dahan lang.” He smiled at her, like he always did, not asking for anything in return.
But something in Erica ached.
He didn’t deserve this kind of heartache.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqxvfHclLs0
Not his kind of soul.
They sat on a bench again—this time near a lantern-lit walkway in Dongdaemun. She held the skewer close to her mouth, not eating yet. Jepoy just watched her, quiet and content.
Until she spoke.
"Don’t fall in love with me, Jepoy."
He blinked. “What?”
She faced forward, blind eyes fixed on nothing. “I’m broken. I’m not the kind of girl you build forever with. I’m the stopover. The 'lesson.' The one before your real love comes along.”
Jepoy’s heart twisted. “Is that what you think?”
“That’s what people like me are. We’re the healing process. We’re not the ending, Jepoy. We’re the wreckage people leave behind when they finally choose better.”
Silence stretched between them.
He looked at her—the curve of her lips that trembled when she was unsure, the way her hands clenched slightly over the warmth of the food, the light in her voice even when her eyes couldn’t hold any.
“I don’t think love works that way,” Jepoy said finally.
She smiled, but it was sad. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m trying to,” he said, voice steady. “And the more I do… the harder it is not to care.”
Her throat bobbed. “That’s the problem.”
“No, Erica. The problem is you think you’re not worth it.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted, softly. “I’ve never told anyone this, but… sometimes, I feel like my blindness is my punishment for trusting the wrong people. For being too proud to see the signs. For being weak.”
He reached out, gently taking her hand.
“Being hurt doesn’t make you weak. And healing… doesn’t make you unlovable.”
She froze.
“I don’t care if you’re still patching yourself up. I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to witness you.” His voice lowered. “Even if I have to watch from a distance.”
She turned toward him then, slowly.
“You don’t want easy, do you?” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “I want real.”
The streetlights cast a glow on their quiet world. Her hand remained in his—no longer shaking.
She didn’t say I love you.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwpvqUNOAu1
She didn’t say stay.
But she didn’t let go.
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