Shadows and Sins

BETRAYED

Jion awoke to the dull, relentless pounding in his head, a reminder that even after blacking out, reality still waited. The studio was in ruins, clay and shards of his past sculptures scattered across the floor, remnants of his breakdown mocking him in the early morning light. His swollen hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the bruises deepening into angry purples and blues.

His phone lay facedown on the floor, the screen cracked from when he’d thrown it against the wall. Missed calls. Messages. He knew who they were from. The betrayal still clung to his skin like an oil slick—thick, suffocating, impossible to wash away.

His wife.

No—his soon-to-be ex-wife.

He let out a slow breath and forced himself to sit up. Every muscle ached, a testament to the war he'd waged against himself the night before. But war with himself was nothing new.

Flashes of the previous night resurfaced.

Jagged and blurred.

Drunk beyond reason, he had stumbled out of his studio, the bottle still clutched in his trembling hand. The streets had blurred past him, neon lights bleeding together as he dragged himself toward the one place that made sense in his broken mind—the rooftop.

He had climbed the rusted staircase, his legs heavy, his vision tilting dangerously. The city stretched out beneath him, cold and indifferent. A step closer. Then another. The wind howled, beckoning him forward.

Then-hands.

Soft yet firm, gripping his arm, pulling him back. A voice, urgent but distant. He had turned but couldn’t make out her face, just the warmth of her presence and the steadiness of her grip.

"Not like this," she had said.

And then, darkness.

The door creaked open, and for a moment, panic gripped his chest. Had she come to find him? To deliver some half-assed apology? To twist the knife deeper?

Instead, a familiar face peered inside—Shawn, his closest friend, the only person who hadn't abandoned him despite his many failures.

"Jesus, Jion…" Shawn stepped inside, surveying the wreckage. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t have to.

Jion pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, trying to will away the headache, the memories, the shame.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Because there's nowhere else you'd go," Shawn replied, setting a paper bag and two coffee cups on the table. The scent of fresh espresso cut through the staleness of the room. "And because she called me."

Jion stiffened. "She what?"

"She was ‘worried.’ Said you left in a hurry, that you weren’t answering your phone."

Jion laughed, the sound bitter, hollow. "Worried? About what? That I’d kill myself?"

Shawn didn’t reply. He just handed over one of the coffee cups, watching him carefully.

Jion stared at the dark liquid, swirling it idly before taking a sip. It burned his throat, grounding him for the first time since last night. "Did she tell you?" he asked quietly.

Shawn’s jaw tightened. "She didn’t have to."

A heavy silence settled between them. Jion wanted to feel anger, to curse her name, to hate her with every fiber of his being. But the exhaustion ran deeper than rage.

"What now?" Shawn finally asked.

Jion exhaled through his nose, staring at the ruined sculptures on the floor. Pieces of himself, broken beyond repair.

"Now?" He swallowed hard, flexing his injured hand.

"Now, nothing."

He let the silence stretch between them, hollow and suffocating. There was no hope, no beginning again. Just the same suffocating existence, dragging him deeper into the abyss. He was not meant to heal, not meant to start over. Misery had already claimed him, and he had no fight left to resist it.

The air shifted as the door creaked open once more. Both men turned, their exhaustion momentarily interrupted by the unexpected visitor. A woman stepped inside, her face partially obscured by the morning light streaming through the window. She carried a first aid kit in one hand and a neatly wrapped breakfast in the other.

Jion furrowed his brow, exchanging a confused glance with Shawn. "Who…?"

The woman set the items down on the nearest table and, instead of answering, raised her hands. Her fingers moved fluidly in silent communication, the gestures unfamiliar yet precise.

Shawn blinked, his mouth slightly open. "She… she’s using sign language."

Jion swallowed, the dull ache in his chest momentarily replaced with intrigue. Who was she? And why did she care enough to come here?

She took a step closer, her eyes studying Jion’s injured hand before gesturing toward the first aid kit. When neither man responded, she exhaled sharply and knelt beside him, carefully taking his hand into her own.

Jion stiffened at the unexpected gentleness. He should have pulled away, but something in her touch—firm yet delicate—kept him still. She unwrapped the bandages with practiced ease, silently tending to his wounds as Shawn and Jion exchanged bewildered glances.

"Do you… know her?" Shawn asked, his voice low.

Jion shook his head. "No. But…"

The woman looked up then, her brown eyes meeting his with an intensity that sent an unfamiliar sensation through him—something close to warmth, something dangerously close to hope.

She pressed a note into his hand before standing and stepping back. Jion hesitated, then unfolded the small paper. Three simple words stared back at him:

You’re not alone.

His throat tightened. He looked up, ready to ask more, but she was already at the door. With one final glance, she raised her hands in a farewell gesture, then slipped away as quietly as she had come.

Jion sat in stunned silence, staring at the note, feeling the weight of its meaning settle over him.

For the first time in a long time, something stirred within him—something he had long thought dead.

Shawn leaned forward, eyeing the note. "Well… that was unexpected."

Jion exhaled shakily, fingers tightening around the paper.

"Yeah," he murmured. "It was."

Jion traced the words on the note with his thumb, the delicate strokes of ink feeling heavier than they should. “You’re not alone.” The message echoed in his mind, unsettling yet oddly grounding. He didn’t know the woman, didn’t understand why she had come, but her presence lingered even in her absence.

Shawn cleared his throat. “So, are you going to find out who she is?”

Jion looked up, then down at his bandaged hand. The ache in his knuckles was dull now, numbed by her careful touch. “I don’t know if I care enough to.”

His friend scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Jion smirked despite himself. “Maybe.”

Shawn shook his head, sipping his coffee. “Well, you better figure it out. Because something tells me she’s not done with you yet.”

Jion didn’t respond. Instead, he let the silence settle between them, considering the possibility. His mind, however, remained tangled with other things—the ruin of his marriage, the wreckage of his studio, the relentless emptiness gnawing at his insides. One cryptic stranger wouldn’t change that.

Shawn had insisted on helping Jion tidy up his studio. The place was a disaster—shattered clay, broken tools, and overturned furniture scattered across the floor. Jion had watched in silence as Shawn picked up the fragments of his ruined sculptures, setting aside anything salvageable. They worked in a quiet rhythm, neither speaking much, but the act itself felt grounding. When Shawn finally dusted off the last workbench, he turned to Jion and sighed. "Alright, that's enough destruction for one day."

Later that day, the pain in his arm became unbearable. The dull throbbing had intensified into a sharp, relentless agony, making every small movement torture. Shawn noticed his grimace and the way he cradled his arm against his chest.

“That’s it,” Shawn muttered, standing abruptly. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Jion resisted at first, but Shawn wasn’t having it. Dragging him into his car, he drove straight to the emergency room.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights, Jion sat on a hospital bed, his arm immobilized as a nurse wrapped it carefully. The doctor confirmed what Shawn had suspected—a fracture.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse,” the doctor remarked as he finished securing the cast. “But you need to take it easy for a while.”

Jion scoffed, exhaustion and frustration warring within him. “Yeah, taking it easy. Great.”

Shawn, sitting beside him, nudged his shoulder lightly. “Just try not to break anything else, alright?”

Jion exhaled sharply, a reluctant smirk ghosting his lips. “No promises.”

By nightfall, frustration weighed on his chest. What was he even doing? Looking for someone who probably meant nothing in the grand scheme of things? He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. His fingers brushed against the folded note, and he pulled it out, staring at the words once more.

A newly built cafe along the street of his studio caught his attention.

He entered hoping that caffeine would wake up his senses.

And there she was. He found her instead.

Inside a quiet café, seated at a small corner table. Her brown eyes glimmered as she focused on the screen in front of her, fingers gliding across her laptop keyboard as she typed. Her expression was intense, lost in thought.

Jion hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. As he neared her table, he gently knocked against its surface with his knuckles, making her look up in surprise.

“Fancy bumping into you here,” he said with a smirk.

Her brows furrowed slightly before she lifted her hands and began signing. Jion frowned, his stomach twisting in frustration. He still didn’t understand her.

She exhaled sharply, visibly frustrated as well. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she turned her laptop toward him and began typing.

Did you follow me?

Jion let out a small chuckle. “I was looking for you,” he admitted.

She typed again. Why?

Jion pulled out the note she had given him that morning and placed it on the table. “Because of this.”

Her eyes softened slightly as she glanced at the paper, then back at him. Slowly, she typed another message.

I said what I said, you’re not alone.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. The café hummed softly around them, conversations blending into background noise. But between them, there was only a quiet tension, something unspoken yet undeniable.

For the first time in a long while, Jion felt a pull towards something other than his misery.

“Fine,” he muttered. “What now?”

She smiled then—just a small, fleeting thing—before turning her laptop back toward herself and typing another message.

Let’s find out.

And for some reason, he stayed.

Jion barely slept. The weight of betrayal still sat heavily on his chest, but something else had taken root alongside it—determination. By morning, the studio still smelled of dust and old clay, remnants of some of his shattered work scattered across the floor despite their attempt at cleaning yesterday.

The woman from the café remained in the back of his mind, her presence lingering even after they parted. But she wasn’t his focus right now.

He needed Shawn.

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hesitating over one name before pressing the call button.

Shawn answered on the second ring, his voice rough with sleep. “It’s early, motherfucker.”

“I need you to come over.”

A pause. Then, a sigh. “You need me to f**k you to console your heart?”

“Hyung, I’m not joking.”

Shawn grumbled “Fine. Give me thirty minutes.”

Thirty-five minutes later, Shawn pushed open the studio door, coffee in one hand, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He took one look at Jion and shook his head. “You look like shit.”

Jion ignored the remark and gestured toward the couch. “Sit.”

Shawn arched a brow but complied, taking a slow sip of his coffee before speaking. “What’s this fuckery about?”

Jion leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice calm but firm. “What are my chances?”

Shawn sighed. “Of what?”

“My marriage. If I take this to court.”

Shawn studied him for a moment before setting his coffee down. “Legally? You need more than what you have now. Just catching her in the act won’t be enough to swing things in your favor. Courts need concrete evidence—finances, messages, history of infidelity.”

Jion’s jaw tightened. “So, what? I let her walk away with half of everything?”

Shawn exhaled. “Unless you build a solid case? Yeah.”

Jion ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “You know half of what I have would not even amount to anything, Hyung, would you represent me?”

Shawn smirked. “Pro bono little fucker. Of course. When you’re ready.”

Jion met his gaze. “I’m not taking it to court… YET.”

Shawn frowned. “Then why the hell are we having this conversation?”

Jion leaned back, a dark smile creeping onto his lips. “Because I have other plans.”

Shawn’s expression shifted, wary now. “Jion…”

“Revenge,” Jion said simply. “She didn’t just betray me, hyung. She humiliated me. In my own home. In my bed.” His fingers curled into fists. “She deserves worse than a courtroom.”

Shawn studied him carefully, his lawyer instincts kicking in. “Revenge is a dangerous game. You sure you want to play it?”

Jion’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Silence stretched between them before Shawn sighed and picked up his coffee again. “Alright stupid f**k. Then tell me what you have in mind.”

Jion’s eyes darkened. “Let’s start by gathering everything we need to ruin her.”

And just like that, the game began.

After their intricate revenge plan was laid out, Shawn leaned back and crossed his arms. “By the way, have you had a chance to meet with that mysterious lady again?”

Jion didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he smirked, reaching forward to pluck the cigarette clipped behind Shawn’s ear. He lit it with a flick of his lighter and took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Shawn narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting like a moron. Be careful with that one, Jion.”

Jion just chuckled, letting the smoke curl around his lips. “We’ll see.”

Shawn watched him carefully, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “You know, revenge is one thing, but getting tangled up with someone new in the middle of it? That’s a whole different mess.”

Jion took another drag, eyes fixed on the swirling smoke. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just what I need.”

Shawn shook his head. “Just don’t let her become another weakness. We’re already walking on shards with your revenge plans.”

Jion exhaled slowly, watching the ember glow in the dim light. “Weakness?” He smirked. “Or an opportunity?”

Shawn sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing. At the end of the day, you’ll be the one handling the consequences. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

Jion chuckled again, flicking ash into a nearby tray. “Sheesh. Why so serious?”