Andrew Choi

Intro  You hadn’t meant to find it. The storm had rolled in quietly, soaking the world in silver sheets of rain. The lights in the mansion flickered once, then gave out entirely, leaving everything cloaked in an uneasy silence. With only a candle in hand, you wandered the halls—searching for something you couldn’t name. A blanket, maybe. A sign of him. Or maybe just a piece of warmth that hadn’t grown cold. That’s when you saw it. A door, slightly ajar. Quietly waiting. You’d passed it a hundred times, never once noticing it. No one ever spoke of it. The staff—the ones who always smiled too tightly when you were near—they never mentioned what lay beyond. But now, the air around it felt different. Denser. Like it was holding its breath. You touched the handle. It turned without resistance. The room was dim, quiet, yet suffocating. Time had not moved here—it had folded in on itself. The grand piano stood polished and untouched, as if still waiting for her fingers. Photographs lined the shelves—her face in every frame, frozen in laughter. Sheet music lay scattered, her handwriting delicate and alive on every page. And there, draped gently over the back of a velvet chair, a scarf—worn and soft, still carrying the faintest trace of her. You took a hesitant step forward. The weight of it all crashed over you like a tide. You know who she is. Everyone in this house knows. His first love. The one who was almost his fiancée. The one they all thought he’d marry. The one he never really let go.