Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wakes up to a bang in Haein’s room.

His eyes pop open, his heart beats fast. He lifts his head from the couch cushion, and out of pure instinct looks towards the door, which remains locked. It came from Haein’s room. He's sure now. He hesitates, for half a second, before getting up and decidedly walking towards her bedroom—the bedroom he’d shared with her a mere two days ago. 

His throat hurts with repressed tears every time he remembers the way she’d held his hand in her sleep, how trusting she’d been. Her discovery of the divorce papers had ruined the closeness they’d begun to recover, almost like a forgotten habit that they were starting to get back into.

Guilt had been eating him alive through every walk, every bite of food she fed him, every smile she sent his way. But at the same time, something that had been broken for a very long time began healing. He found it again, like he found the lock they placed on that bridge three years ago. It hadn't dissapeared, like he'd thought. It had just gotten drowned out by their lives, the daily responsibilities, the contracts and lawsuits and family meetings and ceremonies. 

Now, as he walks towards her room, he's unsure of what's going to happen to them—but it doesn't even matter. He's not worried about saving their love right now. He just needs to save her life. If that means she tortures him when they get back to Korea, so be it. What he once feared—being punished by her family, being stabbed in the back by her father, being humilliated and hurt...All of it pales in comparison to his fear of losing her. He was a fool to think he'd be okay once she was gone. These days, he can hardly breathe when he imagines her funeral. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw her on the street the previous night, that truck, speeding towards her. He'd dropped everything and ran to her, and if he'd been a moment late...

He opens the door to her room, and it feels like dejavu. 

One of the windows is open, a cool breeze sneaking in. The wind ruffles Haein's hair. And she's sitting on the edge, her legs hanging over. She's calmly looking down at forty-one floors of height. 

"Haeinah..."

Her head snaps back, and for a second he's frozen in fear that she'll jump because he startled her.

"What are you doing?" he asks. He can barely get the words out. His chest feels tight. His hands clench and unclench. His arms are extended towards her, but he's too far away to touch her. There's pressure behind his eyelids. "What...?"

His breathing comes faster, he needs to get a hold of himself—she's going to die. She's going to jump, she's going to die. The rational side of him fights tooth and nail with the terrified, wretched man who can barely drag in oxygen into his lungs.

Haein stares at him, but she doesn't say anything.

She doesn't even seem surprised to see him, or ratled. Her gaze is empty, as empty as it was two nights ago when she didn't move as a truck sped towards her. 

"I didn't mean what I said today," he tells her. You know the kind of person you are. I hated living with you most of all. When I heard you were sick, honestly, I was relieved. His harsh words come back to haunt him. 

He was always so good at math, and yet he miscalculated the most important thing: how strong she is. How much pain she can take before being beaten down for good. He thought she would hate him. That she'd focus on making his life miserable. He never expected this. 

Haein smiles bitterly. 

"So it's not true? You didn't want a divorce? You weren't waiting until I died because it'd be easier?"

He feels like the lowest piece of shit on the face of the earth. 

He can't lie to her. He knows she will be able to smell his lies and he doesn't know what will push her to the edge. He doesn't know what to do. Helplessness is shattering, all encompassing, and he's not used to it. 

"Haeinah..."

She looks back out, to the night sky, and he takes the opportunity to take a few steps closer to her. 

"I don't want to spend the time I have left making you miserable," she says softly. "I was thinking about how good it would feel, to destroy you completely, and then I realized...there'd be no point. I won't be around to see you miserable. I won't be around to see anything at all. And would it even really feel good?"

She looks back at him, and she's surprised now, to see him closer.  His throat closes as he sees her stare at his outstreched hand.

"Why wouldn't it feel good?" he asks her carefully. "I deserve it."

She laughs, so bitterly, so heartbreakingly, it's like she's swallowed poison.  

"Because I love you," she says simply. Hyunwoo's heart lurches in his chest. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't treat you better. I'm sorry I left you alone with my family. You put up with us for so long..."

"That's fine," he says desperately. Tears run down his face. "That's okay. I'm sorry too. I'm so—I'm so sorry." He chokes on his words. "Forgive me," he begs.

"I understand why you hate me," she tells him. He shakes his head.  "I hated you too. When you told me the truth today...I've never felt so betrayed. But I realized there's no point to any of this."

"Don't say that, please. Please…"

She meets his eyes. 

"Haein, I didn't mean it, what I said...I thought I felt that way, weeks ago. That's true, and I'm sorry. But I don't mean it. Not anymore." A gust of wind blows her hair back suddenly, and his knees weaken at the sight, at the thought that perhaps she was falling. “I love you, okay? I mean that. I love you, and I’m so sorry—”

"That's fine," Haein interrupts. "It doesn't change anything. I'm dying anyway. What's the difference between dying now or in a month? At least I'll be going on my own terms."

She looks back to the outside. Hyunwoo looks her over, tries so hard to think of a way...Her butt is resting on the ledge, both her legs are over. Her hands loosely grasp the sides of the window. If he tried to grab her...

"What about your parents?" he asks. "You said they already lost a child."

"They will lose another no matter what," she tells him.

"But not like this," he begs. "Haein, jebal ."

She shakes her head, turns, and his heart squeezes so hard in his chest he thinks this is what a heart attack must feel like. 

"I will jump after you!" he yells. That makes her turn back.

"No, you won't. You wouldn't do that to your family," she tells him. She huffs. "You'd kill yourself for a wife you hate, that you wanted to divorce?"

He shakes his head. His words aren’t getting through to her. He doesn’t hate her. He was a fool. His hands are shaking. How is she so calm, when he feels like he's dying?

"I swear to god that I will jump after you," he tells her, desperately, crazily. He doesn't know if he's telling the truth or not. He can't see anything past her body, halfway out the window, at the top of this skyscraper. "Do you want to be responsible for my death, too?" 

She shrugs. "I’ll be dead. I won't care."

"It’s a sin," he chokes out.

"I was never as religious as you," she tells him simply. "God, will understand."

He can't breathe. His vision darkens at the edges. This is a nightmare, this is the worst, most wretched feeling he has ever felt. 

"Haein, I'm begging you." He drags his arm down his face, but the flow of tears won't stop. Saliva is thick in his mouth. "Please. Let’s talk.”

She doesn’t react. He’s frozen in place, wondering if it’s more dangerous to approach her—could he grab her waist fast enough and pull her back? Her fingers let go of the window frame.

“Our baby!” he yells. That stops her. Her fingers grasp the window again. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but if he can’t get through to her, he knows the one thing that will. The one wound that they never could touch, that they never mentioned.

Haein meets his eyes. The emptiness is gone. There’s just pain now.

“Please," he begs her, "for our baby.”

Haein smiles then, the first smile he’s seen in the past two days. 

“Maybe I'll finally get to hold him,” she tells him, and then she lets go of the ledge and her body goes over.

Chapter Text

Hyunwoo had been raised to believe in miracles, but he has never experienced one in the flesh until this very second, when his fingers wrap around Haein’s hand a fraction of a second before she plummets to her death.

Relief is short-lived as he realizes he can’t pull her back inside. His left arm is completely outstretched with the weight of her, while his other one holds on to the window frame. His upper body hangs out the window, too. His right hand is the only thing keeping them tethered.

Haein, always obsessed with her beauty and weight, isn't heavy. She's stayed at that ridiculous perfect weight of 50 kg, or around 110 pounds, throughout their whole marriage. But a hundred pounds feel like a thousand as he holds her. He's never lifted her with one hand. With every second that passes he realizes how impossible this is.

He can’t pull her up. If his right hand lets go of the window to help, he might go over. No, they'll both definitely go over. The bottom of the window is in the middle of his thighs, he has no leverage.

And worst of all—she’s dead weight. 

She’s not holding him back. He's not sure she even could, with her hand, but her other arm hangs lifelessly as she stares up at him. 

Hyunwoo racks his brain, trying to figure out a way even through the fog of adrenaline and fear. If his right hand lets go of the window, he will go over. The bottom of the window is in the middle of his thighs, he wont have any leverage to pull them back up.

The night air is cold as it blows on his face and ruffles his hair. The sounds of the street are nonexistent considering the height, muted. He looks at her eyes for the first time, instead of at the streets far, far down below. There's nothing but sorrow in those dark eyes. 

He's beginning to sweat from the effort. There’s a high pitched sound in his ears. She’s slipping. He squeezes his fingers together even more tightly.

She winces then, from the pain.

“It’s okay, Baek Hyunwoo,” she says roughly. “Let me go.”

A tear falls from his eye, onto her face.

"It’s okay,” she repeats. "I chose this, you can let me go. It’s not your fault. Be happy. Live a long life." It sounds like a goodbye, and he'll be damned if he lets it happen. 

He clenches his jaw so hard it feels like his teeth will crack. 

“I’m not letting you go,” he says, barely recognizing his own voice. His fingers hurt—a cramp clenches his thumb and he fights through it. His shoulder burns, the sinews and muscle being pulled towards the emptiness below. The blood in his veins has been replaced by pure terror and adrenaline.

He looks at the ground below, the dark river of a street, the dozens of little lights of cars and people. He looks at her, her dark tresses blowing in the wind. 

It’s not even a choice.

If this is how he dies, so be it. He’s not letting go of her. Either he saves her or they both die. There’s no third option

He looks back over his shoulder, where his hand is holding on to the window frame for dear life. Maybe his legs can brace him enough—he just needs enough leverage to pull her up, maybe grab her by her wrist. He flexes his pointer finger, testing…

“Don’t!” Haein exclaims suddenly. “Don’t, you’ll fall.” 

She looks panicked, suddenly. A frown mars her features.

“I'd rather die than let go of you,” he says, and realizes how true it is as it leaves his lips. Two months ago, he might have thought his love for her was gone, and he needed a divorce. Two minutes ago, as the pure, poisonous terror inundated his body, he realized that his love for her is so deeply embedded into his body, into his very self, he couldn’t lose it anymore than he could take his femur out of his leg. Two seconds ago, he realized that he needs her to live more than he needs to breathe, and if to save himself he has to doom her—then he’ll gladly die with her.

Baek Hyunwoo simply cannot exist in a world where Hong Haein is no longer. 

“We’ll be together no matter what, okay?” he tells her. “Don’t be scared.”

He was terrified—but now he’s been afforded the clarity the end brings. Every fight, every hurt, every word hurled with resentment…it all fades into nothing. Her hand starts slipping again, and he can’t squeeze her any tighter.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he tells her. 

This might be the last time he talks to her—the last time he talks at all. 

“I love you,” he says. He needs her to know. That’s what it comes down to, what was really at the end of the tunnel if he had bothered to walk a few more miles instead of giving up.

“Stop!” Haein says, she shakes her head but the action makes her slip another fraction of an inch. “Stop, don’t.”

He looks into her eyes, and he keeps looking. He wants her to be the last thing he sees. His brain, so used to running a dozen different situations in the back of his head, wonders if it will hurt. If he’ll feel it or it’ll be quick. He ridiculously wonders if he could hold her in the air and his body could absorb her fall, but they’re too high up for that to make a difference. There’s no balconies. This is it. 

But then she reaches up with her right hand and holds on to his wrist.

“Can you climb over me?” he asks desperately. “Can you get back inside?”

She squeezes his wrist with her hand, but she doesn’t move at all. 

She’s not strong enough to pull herself up with just her hands. It’s difficult enough for him, and he’s trained his muscles. It’s not going to work. 

Her hand is slipping, but he can’t adjust his grip without letting her go.

Hyunwoo needs to let go of her hand but...he doesn't trust her. He doesn't know this Haein, the one who's given up on everything. He's used to her CEO persona, her morbid sense of humor, even the way she takes her breakfast in the morning. She's strong. He always thought she was stronger than him. He was wrong. This is the worst miscalculation he’s ever made in his life.

“Can you hold on to me? If I let go, can you hold on, just for a second?”

She nods. She’s crying now, too.

He needs to trust her, but he hesitates to. In a second, something could go wrong. She may not be strong enough—or worse, she may let go altogether.

“If you let go of me, I swear to God I will follow you down,” he tells her roughly, because the only thing that’s moved her so far was the certainty of him falling too.

She nods, and adjusts her grip on his wrist.

“On the count of three, I need you to push your arm up, okay? I’ll grab your wrist. Can you do that?” He asks. She nods. “One, two…” He lets go of her sweaty palm and the next moment his fingers wrap around her wrist.

He’s got her. He’s got her.

“I'm going to pull you up, hold on to my neck. Please.”

She nods.

Hyunwoo prays for strength. He pulls it from nothing. He asks every ancestor he has for help, all in a microsecond. Then he screams. 

He screams as he puts all his strength into his elbow, his shoulder. At first, through the pain and what feels like the ripping of every muscle in his left arm, it seems like nothing is happening, but inch by inch he is able to pull her up. He feels her fingers brush the hook of his elbow, and he, impossibly, doubles his efforts.

He pulls and screams until his hand is against his chest, and her upper body is against his back. Her other hand circles his neck. Hope burns brightly. 

He’s dizzy with effort, but they’re not safe yet. 

“Hold on tight,” he sobs. “Please, hold on,” he begs.”

His right arm feels like a shapeless mass of pain twisted behind him. He needs to have enough strength to pull both of their weights up and back inside the window, but every moment that passes he grows more and more exhausted. He takes a fortifying breath.He can do it. He’ll do it. He could do one handed pull ups. Well, he did three in a row, once, about a year ago. But this isn’t logic at play here. This is her life, and for her, he’s starting to realize he’s capable of anything. 

He can do this. 

It feels impossible, he's inhaling desperation and exhaling fear every time he takes a breath, but there's no salvation close by, no one else is coming to help, this is up to him.

He screams as he pulls. His throat feels raw and his arm feels like it's being ripped to shreds, but he pulls. The angle is awkward, but little by little they move, and then, when his elbow is bent enough, he has enough leverage to help himself with his thighs and the next second they’re on the floor of the hotel room.

Hyunwoo wails like a child, his mouth open wide.

One hand is tangled in her dark hair, the other around her waist, pressing her closer to him on top of this hotel rug.

He cries, exhausted, dizzy with relief, wracked with guilt. It’s his fault. If he hadn’t woken up—he would’ve lost her tonight. If he had been a second late…if he hadn’t been strong enough…

He buries his face in her hair as he hugs her tight. He can’t let go of her. He never will again.