Comeback Moan

“Jin-a, what time will my daughter in law arriving?”

The scent of garlic, ginger, and star anise lingered in the cramped kitchen.

Lee Hyungjin’s mother stirred the broth with the patience of a woman who had always believed love could be cooked into food.

She hummed a soft tune, one from her village days, while her hands worked instinctively rolling, folding, pinching dumplings with quiet precision.

“Hyungjin!” she called, flicking water from her fingers. “Did she say how long she’d be? I made all her favorites.”

Hyungjin stood by the mirror in the hallway, adjusting his collar for the third time. The reflection staring back at him looked like a man trying too hard. Too much cologne. Overbrushed hair. A shirt that clung too tightly to hope.

“She’s on her way,” he replied, not daring to sound too sure.

His mother’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Just speak kindly tonight. Don’t raise your voice, hmm? You know how sensitive Jenny is.”

He nodded, jaw tight. She didn’t know. She hadn’t seen the shift, the way Jenny’s messages had shortened, her kisses had cooled. The laughter once shared now felt like a past life.

“I’ll wait outside,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Take an umbrella!” his mother called, but the door had already closed.

It wasn’t raining, but the air was heavy like the sky had cried itself dry. He stood by the lamppost at the corner where Jenny always met him, heart thudding with a cruel, stupid hope.

That she’d smile like she used to.

That she’d say, “Sorry I’ve been distant. Let’s go home.”

But when she arrived, she wasn’t alone.

She came holding hands with a man tall enough to cast Hyungjin in shadow. A sculpted jaw, designer shoes, wrists heavy with wealth.

Hyungjin’s breath caught.

“Jenny?” he asked, as if saying her name could stop time.

She didn’t even blink. “I told you not to come.”

“Who is this?” His voice cracked.

“My boyfriend,” she said flatly.

“You’re kidding.” He laughed, hollow.

“I’m not. I’m done pretending, Hyungjin. You’re... exhausting. Always clinging. No ambition. I had to beg for proper dates. You don’t even know how to take care of yourself.”

The words sank in like knives.

“And you didn’t think to say this before?” he whispered.

Her boyfriend stepped forward. “Step back, little man.”

“I’m talking to her,” Hyungjin snapped.

The punch came fast. One to the cheek. Another to the stomach. He crumpled to the pavement, gasping as the cold, dirty water soaked into his clothes.

Jenny barely looked back.

“We’re done, Hyungjin. Don’t contact me again.”

They walked away. Just like that.

And all Hyungjin could do was lie there, tasting blood and heartbreak.

He came to the ER.

The lights were bright. The room sterile.

A nurse muttered something about concussions. The doctor kept asking why someone would leave him there without a word.

“She signed the forms and walked off,” the nurse added.

That small detail stung more than the bruises. She had left him there but signed for him. A flicker of pity? A final gesture?

Did that mean anything?

Then someone else entered the room.

Dr. Seo Taeyang.

Late twenties. Cool gaze. Clean lines. A kind of tired elegance carved by long hours and hard choices.

“You look like you lost a fight with a concrete wall,” he said dryly, flipping through Hyungjin’s chart.

Hyungjin didn’t reply. He just stared at the ceiling.

“You’re not the first guy I’ve seen dumped and beaten in one night,” Taeyang added, checking his pulse. “But damn, you might be the most tragic-looking.”

Still nothing.

Then, softly, “Want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” Hyungjin croaked. But the silence was heavy and strange. Something about the man’s calm made him speak.

“My girlfriend showed up with a new man. Said I was poor. Said I wasn’t enough. But it’s fine. She still loves me, right?” He laughed bitterly.

Taeyang looked at him like a surgeon eyeing a wound. “That doesn’t sound like love. Sounds like she’s a narcissist who got bored.”

“I thought she was going to be my wife,” Hyungjin whispered. “My mom was making dumplings...”

His voice broke.

That, more than anything, made Taeyang pause.

Then came the words that changed everything.

“Do you want to keep crying about her... or get her back?”

Hyungjin blinked. “What?”

“I’m not offering a gun or anything illegal,” Taeyang said smoothly. “I’m offering reinvention. You don’t need revenge…you need resurrection.”

Hyungjin frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

The doctor’s voice dropped. “Because a few years ago, I was you. My ex left me bloody and hurt. I got up, stitched my pride back together, and built a life he couldn’t afford to imagine.”

He pulled out a card and slid it into Hyungjin’s hand.

“You fix broken hearts too?” Hyungjin asked dryly.

“Sometimes both,” Taeyang said with a smirk. “Call me when you’re done being pathetic.”

Then he turned and walked away.

Later that night...

The hospital window hummed with citylight.

Hyungjin sat there, face swollen, ribs aching, phone buzzing in his lap.

A message from his mother lit up the screen:

“You didn’t come home. The dumplings are cold.”

He didn’t reply.

He just stared at Seo Taeyang’s card.

Turned it over once.

Then again.

Then dialed.

His voice was low, but steady.

“I want to become someone she’ll regret losing.”