Jung Hyun-seok doesn’t belong at weddings anymore.

There was a time when he did. A time when he was the groom standing at the altar, watching his bride walk toward him with the softest smile in the world. A time when he held his wife’s hands and promised her forever.

But forever had never been real.

And now, here he was, alone.

Still, Kim Daon is his oldest friend—the only person who refuses to treat him like a ghost, like a cautionary tale people whisper about in quiet voices. Daon had begged him to come, said it wouldn’t feel right without him there.

So he does what he always does.

He forces himself to show up.

Hyun-seok dresses well, as he always does. A sharp black suit, pressed and perfect, a mask of the man he used to be. Even now, he still looks like the successful businessman he once was—not the grieving father, not the man who stands on street corners holding a sign no one reads.

He steps into the venue, and immediately, the whispers start.

“Is that him?”

“The one with the missing kid?”

“He still looks so young, but… isn’t he in his forties?”

“His wife, too. Didn’t she…?”

Hyun-seok ignores them. He’s used to it by now.

But then—

“Hyung!”

Kim Daon finds him immediately. The groom himself, dressed in an elegant tuxedo, his face glowing with happiness. His energy is the same as it always was—warm, genuine, and too stubborn to ever let Hyun-seok disappear completely.

Hyun-seok forces a small smile. “I almost didn’t.” “I almost didn’t.”

Daon exhales, then pulls him into a brief hug—something that takes Hyun-seok by surprise. But before he can react, Daon grins and pats his shoulder.

“Come on, sit with me.”

The main reception continues behind them—guests clinking glasses, laughter filling the space—but Daon leads him to the main table, the one reserved for family and closest friends. Hyun-seok hesitates for a moment, but Daon doesn’t let him refuse.

“Don’t make me beg, hyung. My wedding, my rules.”

Hyun-seok sighs but sits.

Later in the evening, after the main courses have been served and the drinks are flowing, Daon stands at the head of the room, microphone in hand.

The crowd settles, attention turning toward the groom.

He grins, clearing his throat. “First off, I want to thank everyone for being here tonight. To my family, my friends, and of course, to my incredible wife, who somehow decided I was worth keeping forever.”“First off, I want to thank everyone for being here tonight. To my family, my friends, and of course, to my incredible wife, who somehow decided I was worth keeping forever.”

A round of applause and laughter ripples through the crowd.

Daon chuckles, but then his expression softens. “But there’s one person I need to acknowledge tonight. Someone who—honestly—was one of the first people to ever teach me what family really means.”“But there’s one person I need to acknowledge tonight. Someone who—honestly—was one of the first people to ever teach me what family really means.”

Hyun-seok freezes.

Daon’s gaze locks onto him.

“My best friend, Jung Hyun-seok.”

The room falls silent.

“When we were younger, I was convinced he’d be the first one to settle down. He had that perfect, put-together life. A wife who adored him. A son who thought the sun rose and set with him.”

Hyun-seok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

Daon’s voice softens. “But life doesn’t always go the way we expect.”“But life doesn’t always go the way we expect.”

The crowd is completely still. No whispers now. No judgment. Just silence.

“He is the strongest person I have ever known. He is the kind of man who, even when life takes everything from him, still stands tall. Who still fights. Who still keeps going.”

Hyun-seok feels something heavy press against his ribs. He swallows, looking away.

Daon’s voice doesn’t waver. “Hyung, you were always the one looking out for me. The one who kept me from making a complete mess of myself. You taught me how to get back up. And I just want you to know…”“Hyung, you were always the one looking out for me. The one who kept me from making a complete mess of myself. You taught me how to get back up. And I just want you to know…”

He exhales, his next words softer.

“You’re still my best friend. My brother. And I miss you.”

The applause is deafening.

But Hyun-seok’s ears ring with silence.

Then—someone from the crowd calls out.

“Sing for us!”

Another voice joins in. “Yeah, we heard you used to sing back in the day!”“Yeah, we heard you used to sing back in the day!”

Daon smirks, looking directly at him. “Hyung… just once. For old times’ sake.”“Hyung… just once. For old times’ sake.”

Hyun-seok swallows. He hasn’t sung in years.

But something about tonight, something about this moment, makes him want to.

Slowly, he stands.The microphone feels foreign in his grip.

The room is quiet. Waiting.

He closes his eyes for a second.

And then—

The first notes leave his lips.

"나의 하늘을 본 적이 있을까"

(Have you ever seen my sky)

His voice is steady, rich, but there’s a crack in it, a rawness that wasn’t there before.

"조각 구름과 빛나는 별들이 끝없이 펼쳐 있는"

(Sculpture clouds and shining stars spread endlessly)

He doesn’t have to think about the lyrics. They’re buried in his bones.

“구석진 그 하늘 어디선가”

(Somewhere in the corner sky)

His fingers tighten around the microphone.

“그 노래는 널 부르고 있음을”

(That song is singing you)

His eyes are burning. His throat feels tight.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now.

But his voice keeps going.

“넌 듣고 있는지”

(Are you listening)

And then—

He sees them.

Ji-hyeon, smiling softly, standing just beyond the crowd.

Soo-min, peeking from behind her, grinning the way he always did when he was younger.

Hyun-seok’s breath stutters.

His vision blurs.

“고요한 달빛으로 내게 오면

내 여린 마음으로 피워낸 나의 사랑을

너에게 꺾어줄께”

(If you come to me in the still moonlight. My love that I made with my tender heart. I'll give you a break)

His voice cracks.

Because it’s a lie. a lie.

Soo-min won't be there-he can't come.

Ji-hyeon won't be there-she can't come.

And that break. Will it ever be?

Later, when the reception slows, Daon finds him outside.

Then, he speaks. “Hyung, thank you for being here.”“Hyung, thank you for being here.”

Hyun-seok glances away, watching it catch the light. “Daon-ah, I had to, of course you know that.” “Daon-ah, I had to, of course you know that.”

Daon studies him for a long moment. His best friend—the man who once had everything, the man who people once spoke about with admiration rather than pity. He sees the sharp suit, the composed expression, the quiet strength still lingering in Hyun-seok’s posture.

But he also sees the loneliness.

The exhaustion.

The way he never stays in one place too long.

Daon sighs. “You haven’t changed a bit.” “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Hyun-seok huffs out something that isn’t quite a laugh. “I think I’ve changed too much.”“I think I’ve changed too much.”

Daon watches him for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re still grieving, aren’t you?”“You’re still grieving, aren’t you?”

Hyun-seok stiffens slightly. “It doesn’t just go away, Daon-ah.”“It doesn’t just go away, Daon-ah.”

“But that’s not what I meant.” He leans back, stretching his legs out. “Grief is meant to change over time, hyung. It doesn’t vanish, but it’s supposed to… shift. To make room for something else. You haven’t let it.”

Hyun-seok’s fingers tighten around his glass. “There’s nothing else to make room for.”

Daon’s eyes darken. “That’s not true.” “That’s not true.”

Hyun-seok doesn’t respond.

Daon exhales sharply. “Hyung, you act like you’re dead.”“Hyung, you act like you’re dead.”

The words hit harder than Hyun-seok expects.

Daon doesn’t let him look away. “You’re alive, hyung. But you’ve been walking around like a ghost for years. You don’t work. You don’t date. You don’t do anything except stand on that street corner, holding onto a sign like it’s the only thing keeping you breathing.” “You’re alive, hyung. But you’ve been walking around like a ghost for years. You don’t work. You don’t date. You don’t do anything except stand on that street corner, holding onto a sign like it’s the only thing keeping you breathing.”

Hyun-seok’s jaw tightens. “What do you expect me to do, Daon-ah? Move on? Pretend like none of this ever happened?” “What do you expect me to do, Daon-ah? Move on? Pretend like none of this ever happened?”

“I expect you to live. I expect you to stop being afraid of everything except your grief.”

Silence.

Daon forces a smile. “You know… You were the one who taught me how to get back up. You told me, ‘Pain isn’t something you run from. It’s something you walk through.’” His voice is quiet but insistent. “Why do you refuse to listen to your own advice?”“Why do you refuse to listen to your own advice?”

Hyun-seok closes his eyes briefly. He remembers saying those words. He remembers meaning them.

Daon reaches over, gripping his shoulder. “I miss you, hyung.” His voice lowers. “I just… miss my best friend, I want you to be happy, be happy with me. “I just… miss my best friend, I want you to be happy, be happy with me.

Hyun-seok’s breath is shaky. He doesn’t realise it until now.

For years, he has been drowning in his grief. Letting it pull him under, convincing himself there was no way out.

But here is Daon. Still here. Still holding on.

They stand in silence for a moment, both watching the city lights in the distance.

Then Daon speaks. “You know… I wish I had been there more. Back then.”“You know… I wish I had been there more. Back then.”

Hyun-seok shakes his head. “You had your own life. Your own problems.” “You had your own life. Your own problems.”

Daon scoffs. “Bullshit. You were drowning, and I barely threw you a rope.”“Bullshit. You were drowning, and I barely threw you a rope.”

Hyun-seok exhales. “I wouldn’t have grabbed it anyway.”“I wouldn’t have grabbed it anyway.”

Daon sighs, shaking his head. “I miss you, hyung.”“I miss you, hyung.”

A pause.

Then, softer—

“Do you miss yourself?”

Hyun-seok doesn’t answer.

Because he doesn’t know.

The night is over.

People leave in pairs, in groups, with families.

Hyun-seok leaves alone.

The car pulls up to his house.

His fingers drum against his knee. His thoughts won’t let him rest.

Jung Soo-min is alive.

Jung Soo-min is out there.

And someone took him away.

His jaw tightens.

For the first time in years, he feels something other than grief.

He feels rage.

Tomorrow, he will keep searching.

Because his son is alive.

And he will bring him home.