Shin Hae-won didn't think a wedding could feel like a battlefield.
Yet here she was—trapped in layers of silk, heat pulsing behind her ears, facing off with two men: one she once loved, and one who claimed to know she had time-traveled.
Do-yoon stared at her like she had grown horns. "You seriously want to cancel our wedding… again?"
Again.
The word stung, because in her reality, there never was a wedding. Only an unanswered text and a silence that lasted three years.
"I'm not doing this," Hae-won said, voice low, firm. "Not again."
Do-yoon stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Look, I know I panicked last time. But we worked hard to patch things up this time. Don't make a scene—"
"I'm not making a scene," she hissed. "I'm just refusing to be part of this staged drama where you act like the perfect groom before disappearing when things get real."
Min-jae watched with interest, arms folded, expression unreadable. Hae-won shot him a glance. "You. Don't stand there like some time-travel therapist. Explain what's going on."
Min-jae pushed up his glasses. "Theoretically, you've fallen into a localized temporal anomaly. Think of it like... a rip in time. Usually triggered by intense emotional energy linked to a specific place or memory."
She blinked. "That's not helpful. Can you be less sci-fi channel and more help me get the hell out of here?"
Do-yoon's brows furrowed. "What is he talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you," she snapped. "Just my post-breakup trauma manifesting as time travel."
Min-jae gave a small amused smile. "You're taking this better than most people."
"Oh, I'm this close to screaming into a decorative vase," she muttered.
Someone called out in the distance—her mother. The ceremony was seconds from beginning.
Eun-ji appeared again, panting. "Unnie, the guests are seated! Everyone's waiting. The priest is ready!"
Min-jae leaned in slightly. "You have two options: follow the timeline and marry this man again… or rewrite it."
"And how do I rewrite it?" she whispered.
He tilted his head. "Start by walking away."
A rush of heat pulsed through her ears. Hae-won looked at the hallway ahead. A hundred guests. Dozens of expectations. One stage.
She turned.
And walked the other way.
---
They found an empty storage room behind the bridal suite, cluttered with chairs and flower boxes. It was dim, quiet—and weirdly cozy.
Hae-won leaned against the door, heart pounding. "I just ran out on my wedding."
Min-jae handed her a bottled water from a nearby cooler. "You made the right call."
"Do you do this often?" she asked. "Rescue runaway brides who've time-traveled?"
"Only the interesting ones," he replied smoothly.
She stared at him. His features were gentle but precise—clean-cut jaw, lips that always looked on the verge of smirking. His eyes held a quiet storm, like he was thinking five moves ahead in a chess game she didn't know she was playing.
"What's your deal?" she asked, wary.
Min-jae sat on an overturned box. "Let's just say… I have some experience with timelines that don't go as planned."
"Were you dumped at an altar too?"
"No. But I did vanish from my girlfriend's life without warning," he said with a bitter chuckle. "She thought I ghosted her. I was actually stuck in 1972 for two months."
Hae-won squinted. "Are you serious?"
He gave a small nod.
"That's... kind of hot. And extremely unhelpful."
"I've been tracking anomalies. Yours is unusual. Powerful. You must have a very strong emotional tie to today."
"I was supposed to marry him. Then he vanished," she said bitterly. "So yeah, I guess I did."
Min-jae leaned forward. "Then maybe you're here to find out why he left."
Hae-won's stomach twisted.
Outside, the wedding hall was probably in chaos. She didn't care.
Inside this little room, she could breathe. But her past—this entire timeline—was a minefield.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
Not the modern one—her past phone. She dug it out of her hanbok's hidden pocket. One missed call: Mom. And one text. From a number labeled:
Unknown.
> "Meet me at the rooftop in 10. —D"
Her breath caught.
Do-yoon?
Was he going to run again? Or... confess something?
"Where's the rooftop?" she asked Min-jae quickly.
"End of the hallway, emergency stairs."
She started for the door, then turned back. "If I go and he says something messed up, can I punch him?"
Min-jae smiled. "I'll testify for you."
---
The rooftop was cooler than she expected, wind sweeping through her veil and sending loose petals into the sky. She found Do-yoon standing at the edge, his suit jacket removed, sleeves rolled up.
He looked… vulnerable.
"Don't get romantic on me," she said. "I'm not in the mood."
He turned slowly. "I knew you wouldn't go through with it."
"Then why pretend? Why go through the motions again?"
He sighed. "Because I thought maybe... if I did everything right this time, I wouldn't feel like such a failure."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I left you," he said softly. "Because I panicked. Because I thought you'd see the real me and hate me. Because your world was too fast, too clean—and I'm messy. I screw up everything I touch."
"You think disappearing without explanation was less messy?"
"I couldn't face you."
"So you decided ghosting was better?"
He stepped forward, close enough that she could smell the familiar scent of his cologne—fresh pine and the faintest trace of smoke.
"I regretted it. Every day."
"Don't," she said, stepping back. "Don't do this. Don't confuse guilt with love."
His fingers brushed her wrist. "I never stopped loving you."
Her throat closed.
The rooftop felt too quiet.
"I don't believe you," she whispered.
"Then let me prove it."
He leaned in.
Their faces were inches apart. The tension crackled—anger, heartbreak, the memory of a love that once felt eternal.
And then—
A loud CRACK echoed in the distance.
The sky darkened. For a split second, time itself shimmered—like a ripple across the horizon.
Hae-won gasped. The world blinked.
And suddenly, she was somewhere else.
Not the rooftop.
Not the wedding.
Just... darkness.