After that moment, he let go of me gently, not holding on, not making things difficult for me. He lifted his hand and used his fingers to wipe away the tears on my cheeks, each movement slow and careful, as if he was afraid I might break. Then he said,
"It's okay."
His voice remained calm, without urgency, without showing any pain on the surface.
"As long as you feel at peace, that's enough."
I looked at him, unable to say anything.
"As long as that person respects you and loves you, that's enough."
Those words made me lose control. My tears fell even more, not simply because I was sad, but because I couldn't understand how he could say something like that, how he could accept things this way, how he didn't try to hold me back, didn't question me, didn't blame me—nothing like what I had imagined love would look like.
Inside me, everything was in chaos. I wanted him to stop me, wanted him to react more strongly, but at the same time, I didn't want to see him hurt, didn't want to see him lose that calmness. I didn't even know what I truly wanted, and even if I did, I wouldn't have dared to act on it.
He didn't bring it up again, didn't mention my rejection, didn't dig deeper into my feelings. He just stood there, close but still keeping a respectful distance, then he asked,
"What is he like."
I paused.
"What kind of personality, where does he live, what are his conditions."
He spoke naturally, as if it were just an ordinary question.
"Can he give you a life where you don't have to worry about anything."
I didn't know how to answer, but I still replied,
"He… is similar to you."
I paused.
"Just that right now, his conditions aren't as good as yours."
I lowered my gaze.
"But he's genuine, very kind."
He nodded lightly, no reaction, as if he was simply acknowledging what I said.
Then he asked again,
"Have you lowered your standards."
That question made me look up at him. Not because I was surprised, but because I didn't expect him to ask that. Yet his tone carried no blame, no judgment, just a direct question.
He continued,
"Are you sure that standard will bring you more peace and happiness."
I couldn't answer. Not because I didn't have one, but because I wasn't certain. I stayed silent for a long time. The space between us grew so quiet that I could hear my own breathing.
After a while, I spoke softly,
"This time… I will be happy."
It sounded more like I was telling myself than telling him.
He didn't argue, didn't question it. He stepped behind me, standing one step away, close but not touching, then he said,
"I hope so."
His voice remained steady.
"But if this time you're not happy…"
He paused.
"I won't let go anymore."
That wasn't a threat, not pressure, but a clear and firm statement. It made me turn back to look at him immediately.
I looked at him, a strong emotion rising inside me again, but I still said,
"Don't wait for me anymore."
My voice was unsteady.
"Don't waste your time on someone like me."
I knew I was diminishing myself, but that was what I truly believed at that moment.
"Don't let your good life revolve around someone like me."
He looked at me, not angry, not hurt, just calm, then he replied,
"My life is my choice."
"My decision."
His voice was firm, without hesitation.
"Whether it's right or wrong… to me, it's still right."
"Because it's the choice I chose."
He continued,
"It's not impulsive, not to prove anything, not temporary."
Each word steady, certain.
"You don't need to worry about me."
He paused for a few seconds.
"You just need to live well."
At that moment, I realized something—between love and respect, he had never chosen one over the other. He chose both. He loved in his own way, yet still respected my choices completely. He didn't hold on, didn't let go, he just stood there, unwavering.
And that… made it even harder for me to step forward.
Message of Chapter 41
Loving someone is not difficult, but loving them while still respecting their choices—even when that choice is not you—that is the hardest thing of all.