Love Can Make A Way

“I’ve finished my work here.”

Irene let out a dry laugh, devoid of any hint of humor. She leaned back in her leather chair, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a mixture of superiority and irritation.

"What are you talking about? Is this one of your tantrums about what happened in Japan?" She scoffed, trying to regain control of the game.

“If this is a pathetic attempt to negotiate a pay raise or more vacation days after the scene you made at the hotel, I suggest you put that paper away and get back to your desk. I don’t have time for your childishness,” she added, her eyes darting back to her monitor.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Irene.” You cut her off. Using her name in the middle of the presidential office was like a slap of reality.

Irene tensed completely, her eyes widening as never before, and her hands gripped the arms of the chair. President Bae's rigidity faltered for a second, revealing the woman hidden behind it.

“How dare you…?” She muttered, half-rising from her seat. “I remind you that you have a valid contract. I can have your name blacklisted in this industry. I can destroy your career with a single phone call. You can’t leave!”

“You can do it if that’s what you want,” you replied, taking a step forward, resting your hands on the edge of the desk to look her straight in the eye. “Sign the termination, call the executives, blacklist me. I don’t care anymore.”

She remained silent, her chest rising and falling beneath the fabric of her designer suit. Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. Desperation, the same desperation she had tried to stifle in the Tokyo suite, began to surface in her eyes.

She couldn't understand how the ‘good boy’ who always bowed his head, the one who endured her daily bad moods and outbursts with infinite patience, the one who no matter what happened ended up giving her a sincere smile, now looked at her with such icy indifference.

“Why?” she finally asked. Her voice was no longer that of the president; it was a broken, disarmed, almost pleading whisper. “Why now? After all this time… after everything we’ve done together… Why are you doing this to me?”

You stared at her, taking in the features of the woman you had secretly loved for five years. The pain in your chest was still there, but it was no longer a burning fire; it was a cold scar.

“Because I’m in love with you, Joohyun.”

You were finally able to confess, taking a huge weight off your shoulders.

“And staying here, walking behind you while you pretend I don’t exist during the day and using me at night to keep your loneliness at bay, has completely destroyed me.”

Irene froze. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Her eyes welled with tears, reflecting a confusion and a heartbreak so profound that for a second you wanted to step back and comfort her. But you held back.

“I have nothing left to give you.”

It was the best thing for both of you.

You turned around, walked to the double doors, and opened them. Before stepping out, you paused for a second without looking back.

“Goodbye, President Bae. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past years.”

You left the office, closing the door softly behind you, leaving Irene completely alone and heartbroken. For the first time, you didn't clean up the mess you'd made on her office floor.

The news of your resignation spread through the office like wildfire. You said goodbye to your former colleagues, from the most junior to the highest-ranking officials. Some of them feared the worst, knowing you were the only one who had managed to tame the beast that occupied the presidential chair. Even Karina said goodbye with a warm hug, worried about your future well-being and that of her friend, the president.

During the first twenty-four hours, Irene tried to do what she did best: ignore the pain and take refuge in her work.

She convinced herself that you weren't indispensable. After all, the Human Resources department took barely three hours to send her a replacement with an impeccable resume, a graduate with honors from Seoul National University, perfectly dressed, and with submissive body language.

But the first mistake came with the morning report.

“What is this garbage?” Irene asked, dropping the folder onto the table. The new assistant jumped, instantly turning pale.

As the days passed, the situation only worsened. The president's mood became so volatile and destructive that working on the top floor became a high-risk activity.

The second replacement was summarily dismissed after three days for failing to anticipate that Irene would cancel the meeting with the finance committee due to a migraine. The third lasted barely forty-eight hours; Irene shouted at him out of her office simply because the sound of his shoes walking down the hall distracted her.

Being Bae Joohyun's personal assistant had changed drastically. It was no longer anything like a Hunger Games tribute. Now, it was a parade of pirates walking the plank, one after another. An absolute bloodbath.

No one knew her rhythms. No one knew when she needed absolute silence and when she required a reminder to eat. No one could read the storms brewing in her dark eyes before they erupted.

At night, Irene would stay alone in the vastness of her office, the Seoul skyline streaming through the window. She would stare at the center of her desk, where the white envelope appeared like a ghostly vision. But the only real ghost was the echo of your words:

“I’m in love with you, Joohyun.”

She crossed her arms, rubbing her shoulders as if she felt a sudden chill that the building's central heating couldn't soothe. She didn't want to go home; there, her loneliness intensified because you wouldn't be there to meet her anymore.

For the first time in her life, the success of her textile empire wasn't enough to fill the suffocating void that threatened to crush her chest. She was on top of the world, yes.

But she had never felt so terribly alone.

Several kilometers away, in a modest but comfy apartment, the alarm clock did not ring at five in the morning.

You stirred in the sheets, slowly opening your eyes to find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling. During the first few days of your new unemployed life, your body, accustomed to the frenetic pace of haute couture and midnight phone calls, reacted with panic to the lack of stimulation. You woke with a start, searching for your mobile phone, your breath quickening, hoping to find a message from Irene demanding a last-minute change of itinerary.

But the phone remained silent. There were no emails from the board. There were no upcoming events.

Step by step, you learned to unwind. You started going for morning runs, feeling the fresh air on your face without the rush of having to hurry back to the office. You forced yourself to cook, rediscover the taste of simple things, and find new activities to fill the empty hours in your living room.

You started sending your resume to mid-sized companies, looking for low-profile administrative positions with modest salaries and, above all, much less pressure. You no longer wanted to return to a leading company in its sector. You wanted invisibility.

One night, while eating a bowl of instant noodles in front of the television, you decided to turn on the screen to break the deafening silence of the house. You flipped through the channels without paying much attention, until a news and variety show caught your eye and made you freeze, your thumb hovering over the remote.

The screen displayed the flashing label ‘LATEST NEWS’, accompanied by shaky footage recorded from a distance.

The footage, captured that same afternoon at the airport, showed Irene walking through the terminal surrounded by two bodyguards.

She didn't wear her usual expression of cold indifference; her face was gaunt, her eyes dull and fixed on the ground, devoid of the authoritative gleam that usually disarmed anyone. She seemed more fragile, paler, dragging her feet with a deep and heavy sadness that not even her impeccable designer outfit could conceal.

The paparazzi followed her a few meters away, capturing how she got into the car in absolute silence, oblivious to the commotion around her.

You stopped, chopsticks halfway through, staring silently at the screen. The distance and time you'd tried to build to heal seemed to crumble in a single second. She was broken, as broken as you, and the painful certainty that you had destroyed each other hit you in the chest with overwhelming force.

Then your phone started vibrating. Once, twice, even three times in a row. You unlocked it and sighed wearily. You set aside your impromptu dinner and typed quickly

What do you want now, Ning?

I have two tickets for tonight’s game and no one to go with

Are you interested?