Strings Of A Forgotten Love

Chapter 57

Author’s POV

Daegu’s city center buzzed with excitement that weekend. The grand plaza, usually quiet except for the chatter of pigeons and the hum of street vendors, had transformed into a lively festival ground. Bright banners fluttered in the late-summer breeze, stalls brimmed with food and crafts, and families strolled around, children tugging at balloons tied to their wrists.

It was the kind of day that carried laughter on the wind — the kind of day where fate often slipped in unnoticed.

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YN’s Side

YN walked hand in hand with her twins, her steps tired but her heart light. She had promised the boys this outing all week, saving a little from her modest earnings just to buy them candied apples and perhaps a small toy each.

Her plain cream dress fluttered softly as she moved, her long hair tied into a simple braid that brushed her shoulder. She wasn’t like the other mothers here — who wore designer sunglasses, heels, and branded handbags — but her warmth drew people’s eyes more than wealth ever could.

Beside her, Haewon bounced with excitement, tugging her arm.
“Eomma! Eomma! Look! Balloons!” he squealed, pointing toward the vendor where dozens of colorful balloons swayed like a rainbow caught in strings.

YN chuckled. “One balloon each, okay? Not more.”

“Yayyy!” Wonie clapped, already running ahead.

Haemin, as always, held back slightly, his little fingers curling around YN’s hand tighter. His eyes darted everywhere, cautious, protective. He wasn’t as easily distracted as his brother. In his young heart, there was already a maturity — a sense that he had to be the shield, not just the child.

As YN guided them through the crowd, her laughter rang like a melody. For a fleeting moment, she forgot about her struggles, forgot about the shadow of her past.

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Taehyung’s Side

At the other end of the plaza, black cars slid to a stop, polished until they gleamed under the sun. The crowd instinctively parted as men in tailored suits stepped out, forming a subtle but unmistakable circle of protection.

And from the center of that circle emerged a man whose presence demanded attention without effort.

Kim Taehyung.

No longer the broken, childlike soul who once clung to YN’s hand and called her “Ynie.” This Taehyung was sharp, commanding, every movement precise and calculated. The tailored charcoal suit he wore clung to his tall frame, his dark hair brushed back to reveal the hard lines of his face. His eyes — cold, intense, unreadable — scanned the area with the instinct of someone who trusted no one.

Here, he wasn’t simply Kim Taehyung, the business heir.
He was “V” — the name whispered in shadows, the alias that struck fear in rivals and respect in allies. A silent ruler of the underground, masked behind charm and power.

He wasn’t here for leisure. The festival provided the perfect cover for a quiet meeting with certain associates. And yet, for the first time in years, something about the air felt… heavy. Almost as if fate itself had drawn him here for another reason.

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The Missed Encounter

While Taehyung walked toward the far corner of the plaza, YN was only a few stalls away, kneeling to tie Haewon’s shoelaces.

If either of them had looked up… if either had taken one step further… their eyes might have met.

But destiny was cruel.

Wonie tugged impatiently, whining, “Eommaaa, I want candy!” — and YN’s attention remained on her child.

At the same moment, one of Taehyung’s men leaned close, whispering updates about the meeting. Taehyung’s sharp gaze flicked to the side, scanning the perimeter with practiced caution.

The distance between them narrowed to mere meters — the thin thread of fate stretched taut, ready to snap or tie itself.

Haewon’s balloon slipped from his little hand, soaring upward. “My balloon!” he cried, chasing it toward the very path where Taehyung walked.

“Wonie! Wait!” YN shouted, rushing after him. Haemin followed close behind, his small face full of worry.

The boy collided with one of Taehyung’s guards, who instinctively steadied him. “Careful, kid.”

For a heartbeat, Taehyung paused, his eyes lowering briefly toward the small child now clutching his airplane toy tightly. Something flickered across his expression — faint, unexplainable.

Deja vu.

But before his gaze could rise to the woman rushing after the child, his phone buzzed. Urgency pulled him away. He turned sharply, retreating with his men deeper into the crowd.

By the time YN scooped Haewon into her arms, pressing frantic kisses to his cheeks, Taehyung was gone.

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The Parallel Worlds

As the sun dipped lower, the festival lights flickered to life. YN and her twins sat on the grass, sharing a single candied apple between them, laughing when Wonie got sugar all over his cheeks.

Far across the plaza, Taehyung sat in the back of his black car, his face unreadable as his men reported updates. Yet, his mind wasn’t on business for once. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t shake off the image of that little boy with the wooden airplane — or the strange tug in his chest when he saw him.

Unknowingly, father and children had brushed past one another, so close yet so impossibly far.

Fate had toyed with them today. But it wouldn’t be the last time.