The air was thick with unspoken words. In-ha sat alone in the art room, surrounded by unfinished canvases and the scent of turpentine. The silence was deafening, filled with memories of Yuna's laughter and the warmth of her presence.
He picked up a brush, hesitated, then set it down. His mind drifted to the last time they spoke, the words they exchanged, and those they didn't. Regret weighed heavily on him, a constant companion since her passing.
He remembered the way Yuna's eyes sparkled when she talked about her dreams, the way her hand felt in his, the softness of her voice when she whispered secrets. But most of all, he remembered the things he never told her—the depth of his love, his fears, his hopes for their future.
In-ha stood up and approached a blank canvas. He began to paint, each stroke a confession, each color a memory. He poured his heart onto the canvas, expressing the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.
As the painting took shape, In-ha felt a sense of release. The weight of unspoken words lifted, replaced by a bittersweet peace. He knew he could never tell Yuna these things in person, but through his art, he could share them with the world.
The painting, titled "The Things We Never Said," became a tribute to Yuna and a testament to their love. It was a reminder that even in silence, love endures.
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