Chapter 2: The Scent of Rain on Petals

You read the note seven times.

Each word is the same. "Please don't look for me." But your hands won't stop shaking, and your chest feels like someone's standing on it.

You don't look for her.

For exactly ten minutes.

Then you shove the note into your pocket, pull on your boots, and step outside. The morning air is cold against your face. The violet rose bush sways gently in the wind, petals trembling like they're whispering secrets.

"Byulseo!" you shout again.

Nothing.

You check the shed. Empty. The small path behind the house that leads to the forest. Nothing but deer tracks. The village road. The old woman sweeping her porch shakes her head—she hasn't seen your wife since yesterday.

By noon, you're back in the garden, exhausted and terrified.

That's when you notice the rose bush.

It's moving.

Not from wind. The air is still. But the branches are reaching—slowly, deliberately—toward the forest. One thorny stem points like a finger.

You kneel beside the bush. The soil is damp, even though it hasn't rained. And there, half-buried in the dirt, is a small silver locket. Byulseo's locket. She never took it off.

You dig it out and open the clasp.

Inside is a tiny portrait of you—and a dried petal so dark violet it's almost black. The back of the locket is engraved with words you've never noticed before:

"Until the last petal falls."

The forest swallows the afternoon light.

You follow the path behind the house, the locket clutched in your fist. The trees grow thicker, older, their roots twisting above ground like knuckles. Somewhere, a bird calls once and falls silent.

Then you smell roses.

Not from the garden—stronger, wilder, like a hundred bushes blooming at once. You push through a curtain of vines and stumble into a clearing.

And there she is.

Byulseo sits on a moss-covered stone in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a circle of violet roses that grow without soil—their roots hanging in the air, glowing faintly. Her beige dress is gone. She wears a pale grey hanbok, old-fashioned and worn, her red hair loose and tangled.

She doesn't look up.

"You found me," she says quietly. "You weren't supposed to."

You step closer. "Byulseo, what is this? What's happening?"

She finally lifts her gaze. Her eyes are the same—dark brown, full of love—but there's something else now. A sadness so deep it looks like exhaustion.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" she asks.

"High school. You were the new transfer student—"

"No." She shakes her head, and a tear slips down her cheek. "That was the second time."

You freeze.

"The first time," she continues, her voice barely a whisper, "was three hundred years ago. I was dying in this forest. And you—you were just a traveler who stopped to help a stranger. You held my hand until I couldn't hold yours anymore."

The air grows cold. The glowing roses pulse like heartbeats.

"I made a deal," Byulseo says. "A spirit offered me a chance to come back. Not as a ghost. As something else. Something that could find you again, life after life, until I got it right. But every time…" Her voice cracks. "Every time, the roses remind me. I'm not supposed to stay."

You step into the circle. The roses brush against your legs, warm like skin.

"Stay with me now," you say.

Byulseo looks at her hands. They're trembling again—but this time, you see what you missed before. Her fingers are translucent. The morning light passes through them.

"I'm fading," she whispers. "I borrowed too much time. The rose bush in our garden… it's the anchor. When the last petal falls, I go back to the forest. Back to the beginning."

You grab her hands. They feel solid, real, warm—but you see the light shining through.

"Then we plant more roses," you say. "A thousand bushes. A million."

She laughs—a wet, broken sound—and leans her forehead against yours.

"You're still the same," she says. "Still stubborn. Still kind."

"And you're still mine."

The roses around you glow brighter. Somewhere, a single violet petal detaches from a stem and drifts upward, disappearing into the darkening sky.

Byulseo closes her eyes.

"We don't have much time," she says. "But until the last petal falls… let me stay."

You pull her into your arms.

And in the middle of that strange, glowing forest, surrounded by roses that remember a love three hundred years old, you hold your wife and pretend you don't feel her becoming lighter.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading Chapter 2.

New chapters will be posted every Tuesdays and Fridays - GMT +8 - Malaysia Standard Time.

If you're enjoying the story, please consider leaving a rating or comment.

— Ha Ru Kim.

End of Chapter 2