Dear Love: The Spring I May Never See

"Is the video good?"

A deep voice broke the silence, accompanying the steady steps of a man who opened the door without knocking. His black shoes made soft contact with the deep red carpet, the faint sound still echoing in the room, filled with a stifling atmosphere.

The walls and tables were adorned with bright red hues, the fabric serving as a base for chains, handcuffs, and other shiny tools under the cold white light. In the middle of the room, four camera lenses were lined up, pointed at the large bed with tangled sheets-traces of chaos still clung to its surface.

In front of a small screen, a muscular man stood, grinning with satisfaction. The echoes of groans and soft sobs from the video filled the room, the woman in the recording trembling helplessly. Tears stained her cheeks as her eyes radiated an overwhelming despair that seemed to swallow the last remnants of hope.

"Nice, right?" he asked, glancing at the man in the doorway while pointing at the screen. "The masochists will definitely pay a lot for this."

There was no answer. Only a thin smile on the face of the man standing tall in an immaculate black suit. His golden-brown eyes remained fixed on the screen, emanating a frightening calm.

"I don't care about the buyers." His voice was flat, yet firm, as if it slipped through the air like a sharp knife. "If the result is good..." His gaze stayed locked on the screen, following each gasp that cut through the silence. "You can make another video with her."

The muscular man chuckled lightly, his eyes sparkling wildly. "I look forward to it!"

The dark-skinned man stood and walked toward the bathroom, his strong, trained body displaying remarkable contours. "Her cries are beautiful; you'd be missing out if you don't try it," he said before disappearing, the sound of water splashing following shortly after.

When he returned, the room was submerged in silence. The bed in the center of the room still held the traces of the figure lying beneath the thick blanket, unmoving since their brief encounter that night.

The man stepped closer, a cold smile curling on his lips. "Ann," he called softly but with certainty. "You even cried with satisfaction, didn't you? Don't worry; I'll send the video once it's done. So, make sure you remember your beautiful face in this recording."

Without waiting for a response, he began packing up his equipment, leaving the room in darkness. The remaining light vanished, leaving the room enveloped in a red shadow that swallowed every corner.

On the bed, the red blanket swelled, shielding the small body trembling in silence. Her breath was shallow, as if trying to blend with the surrounding stillness.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, revealing dark but clear irises, sweeping the room with an empty gaze. Tears flowed quietly down her cheeks, carrying a bittersweet beauty in every drop.

She moved slowly, pain slicing through each step toward the bathroom. As cold water touched her reddened skin, her swollen lips pressed together tightly. Her gaze was vacant, staring at the bathroom ceiling, her voice barely audible among the splashing water.

"I miss Grandma..."

At 5:00 AM, in front of a large mirror, Ann's small reflection gazed back solemnly. The thick black hoodie covered her shoulders, paired with pants hidden beneath a dark green skirt. Her face, once radiant, was now pale and empty-without traces of tears, only a frozen silence.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising slowly as if trying to fill the emptiness inside her. After a few seconds, her trembling hand reached for the strap of her bag lying on the floor. Without a word, Ann stepped out of the hotel room, leaving the quiet space that now held its own dark secrets.

"Look! Room 510!"

"She's out."

"Which one is she?"

"Shhh... Quiet down."

Whispers from the hotel staff traveled softly among them.

"It's her... the one in the black hoodie!"

Curious eyes fixated on Ann as she walked quickly, her face hidden beneath a large brown scarf. Her stride was firm and unwavering, as if the pain she carried couldn't stop her determination.

"Haa... she must be living luxuriously with many men," muttered one of them.

"Disgusting!"

"Quiet! The hotel owner can hear you," snapped a stern-faced woman with a sharp gaze.

Just like that, their whispers ceased. The staff left with their heads bowed, but one word continued to echo in Ann's mind.

Disgusting.

Her once steady steps began to slow as she entered a narrow, dark alley. Morning snow fell gently, dancing under the dim streetlights, creating soft shadows around her feet. The sound of her footsteps, muffled by the snow, felt soothing, gradually easing the anxiety that consumed her thoughts.

At the end of the hidden alley stood a large trash can, standing firm as the only shield from the outside world. Ann curled behind its shadow, her small body tightly folded in her arms and legs. The cold air pierced her skin, but the warmth of her own body was enough to stave off the chill. In this corner-though dirty and silent-she felt safe, far from the judging eyes of people.

"Dad... Grandma..." she whispered weakly, burying her face in the scarf that shielded her from the freezing air. Her empty eyes stared at the snow stuck to her boots.

It all started a year ago when her grandmother fell ill. The hospital bills slowly suffocated her family. Without a word or complaint, Ann dropped out of school-her decision kept a secret from her grandmother. Every night, she left small notes full of lies.

"I'm going out to play with friends."

In reality, Ann struggled with part-time jobs to help her father.

Though exhausted, she always smiled during each shift, working hard to earn a little better wages and tips. But everything collapsed when her father suddenly passed away due to a brain aneurysm. The delayed medical response cost her the last person who had been her anchor in life.

The unending debt forced Ann to sign a contract with Jake, a heartless man from the Thorpe family-a wealthy family that had dominated for generations.

Now, Ann fought alone, taking care of her grandmother, still lying in the hospital.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Unhurried, unhesitant-just the steady rhythm, unaffected by the cold snow. Two meters from where Ann sat, the steps stopped.

A pair of long legs in shiny black shoes stood there, silent, without a greeting. Ann didn't turn. She simply took a quiet breath, letting the cold air bite at her lungs. She pulled her scarf tighter, hiding her face from the world-including from him. But somehow, his presence brought an odd sense of security.

No gaze met hers, and no words were spoken. The silence between them wasn't emptiness but a story left untold.

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

The vibration of Ann's old phone flickered the light from its cracked screen. She took a deep breath, then stood tall despite the cold seeping into her bones. "It's time."