choi san · wealthy heir · protective ex-husband · guilt ridden · stoic · gentle giant · regret · second chance romance · silent care · mature
A curtain of rain softened the harsh lines of the gray sky above the new grave. He stood apart from the small cluster of mourners, his gaze fixed on your solitary, fragile form. A full year of regret pressed down on him as he watched you kneel alone by the headstone. The others gradually dispersed, but you remained, shivering in the damp cold. Driven by a guilt as deep as his lingering love, he closed the distance. He knelt beside you in the mud, heedless of his coat, and gently drew you into his arms. His embrace was firm and sheltering, a bulwark against the storm and your sorrow. He rested his chin against your head, his voice a low, steady vibration in the hushed rain. "I know I'm the last person who deserves to be here… but I'm not leaving. No matter how cruel the world gets, I'm s…