‘In her favorite locket, hiding yellow pills
With white wine to chase them, lying on the hills
We kissed until we couldn’t breathe
The coldest sand is on the beach’
When Woo Seulgi gets off the bus and the smell of the sea fills her nostrils, she realizes she’s inhaling deeply. The suitcase weighs in her hand, carrying almost her entire life locked in a single compartment.
"Call me from time to time," her stepmother had said the last time Seulgi looked her in the eyes. There was no fury in her voice, no trace of anger. Only guilt. Is that how everyone felt?
She had seen it in Yeri's eyes, that time she screamed desperately for Jaeyi's name while, from a distance, she watched the raging sea. She had seen it in Kyung, who stayed by her side and draped a blanket over her shoulders when Seulgi spent too many hours in front of the television, searching—begging—that any news would mention the discovery of a body. Her body.
Except it never happened. And although Seulgi cried for what felt like two whole months, now she feels... a little better. She remembers the first day of the disappearance: the journalists outside the wooden door, their cameras and microphones invading the street, filling her stepmother's head with devilish questions.
In that moment, she had collapsed under the shower, the water pounding heavily against her face, only framing the thousands of scars that covered her body. From the cigarette burn to the one on her shoulder and abdomen. As something blurry passed through her mind, she knows she pressed her abdomen with her fingers, digging them into her skin, and for a moment thought of cutting open her stomach herself.
She had begged, day after day, from the first light of dawn until the last shadow of night, when the sound of the owls hit her window. She recited every phrase of the Bible she knew, imploring God—or anything up there—to bring her back to her.
Now, standing in front of the sea, she can't move. She feels people bumping into her shoulder, hears some scattered insults, but everything sounds like a distant murmur.
"Are you okay?"
The voice is low, shy, with a slight hoarseness that makes her turn her head immediately. She recognizes a girl around her age, staring at her with wide eyes in confusion. Seulgi nods. Her throat burns with a hidden pain that tugs at the buckles of her sanity and makes her feel dizzy.
She walks away. She takes a few more steps before one of the wheels of her suitcase gets caught on the pavement. She grips the handle tightly, lifts it, and runs toward what seems to be her apartment.
She pulls out the keys quickly. The door creaks loudly as it opens. She drops the suitcase in a corner without thinking too much about it.
There’s no point in missing her.
When she found out about her father's death, she didn’t even shed a tear. But now, as she grips the sheets of the old bed she’ll have to call hers from today, she feels the salty sting rolling fiercely down her cheeks.
The sun streams through the window, illuminating the room with a warmth that doesn't feel comforting. It only makes everything hurt more.
Jaeyi. Jaeyi.
Her name is a mantra, a silent plea.
Her only way to breathe.
Although the exhaustion weighs on her bones, pulling at her like a bad illness, she finds herself unable to close her eyes.
In the dim light of the room, and having long ago stopped counting the hands of the clock, she finds herself staring at the silhouette of the suitcase, which seems to watch her from the corner, like a reminder that this place still doesn't belong to her. It doesn't matter that the keys are still in her pocket, or that her few belongings rest here. It doesn’t matter that she paid for this space. None of this is hers.
Only the emptiness inside her chest.
Seulgi slides her hand under the pillow and grips it tightly, as if she could squeeze out some comfort. But after all, all she finds is the echo of her own breath and the rustling of the sheets as she turns toward the window.
Outside, the streetlights seem to reflect in the last puddles left by the rain. A man walks slowly, his head down while the faint glow of his cigarette strengthens between his lips.
Seulgi closes her eyes.
Jaeyi.
The memory comes in flashes. The salty skin after swimming in the sea. The laughter caught between her lips. The feeling of fingers intertwining with hers under the water.
Jaeyi's voice, whispering her name.
Her chest shakes with a broken breath. She doesn’t allow herself to cry again. Not now. Not when she's spent weeks convincing herself that everything is fine, that she can move on.
Jaeyi is gone.
The sea didn’t bring her back.
The sound of cars and the murmur of the city are the only things that fill the silence. Outside, life goes on. For everyone, except her.
Seulgi exhales slowly and forces herself to get up. Her legs are numb as she crosses the room and opens the suitcase awkwardly. The clothes are disorganized, as if the journey here had stirred up more than just her belongings.
Underneath a worn hoodie, she finds what she was looking for.
A photograph.
The edges are bent, the ink a bit worn, but the faces are still there. Jaeyi smiles, her hair messy from the wind, her eyes squinting from the sun. Seulgi is beside her, making a grimace that once seemed funny, but now only feels absurd.
Her chest hurts again.
She lets herself fall onto the bed and holds the photo over her face, as if by looking at it, time could turn back. As if it could give her back what the sea took from her.
But the image remains just that: a shadow of what was.
And Seulgi is still here, breathing. Even though she doesn’t know why.
Outside, the city keeps moving.
The sound of a distant horn forces her to blink, to return to the narrow room where the echo of her breath is the only thing keeping her company. The paper of the photo crinkles between her fingers as she lets it fall onto the nightstand with a dull thud.
Seulgi runs her palm over her face and sighs. She knows she won’t sleep. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either.
Insomnia has become an old companion since Jaeyi’s disappearance. She doesn’t remember the last time her body fully surrendered to sleep without being woken by a jolt, a choking in her throat, or the feeling of falling into an endless void.
With clumsy movements, she stands up. She sways a little before finding stability in the soles of her feet. The cold of the floor pierces her skin, but she does nothing to avoid it.
She leaves the room without turning on the light. In the tiny kitchen, she fills a glass with water and drinks it in small sips, feeling the liquid slide down her dry throat. She rests her hands on the edge of the counter and closes her eyes.
She doesn't think about Jaeyi.
Not her laugh, not her hands, not the way she used to say her name softly, as if the world was made just for the two of them.
And yet, there it is. In every shadow, in every breath.
The air weighs on her chest. Her heart pounds against her ribs.
Seulgi places the glass in the sink and returns to the room. But instead of lying down, she moves toward the window. She carefully draws the curtain and looks out at the street.
The streetlights cast a dim light on the sidewalk. Some bars are still open, with neon lights flashing in red and blue tones. A group of guys is laughing in the distance, a couple kissing against the wall of a building, a food delivery driver getting on his bike.
Life.
Seulgi wonders how she looks from the outside. If someone were to watch her at this moment, standing by the window, her pale face and empty eyes, would they think she’s alive or just a ghost trapped in the skin of a girl?
She grits her teeth and looks away.
She feels hollow. Light, as if she could disappear if someone pushed her just a little.
The sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. It’s not a call. Just a notification.
She walks to the bed and unlocks it without much interest.
Message from Kyung:
"Did you arrive safely?"
Seulgi takes a while to reply. She reads the words on the screen, looks at her own reflection in the glass of the phone. Finally, she writes:
"Yes."
There’s nothing more to say.
She sets the phone aside and sits on the edge of the bed. The early morning passes, and the silence weighs on her like a cold blanket.
For a moment, she closes her eyes.
Just for a moment.
But when she opens them again, the first light of dawn filters through the window.
And she’s still here.
Breathing.
Even though she still doesn’t know why.
The dawn stains the room in pale, washed-out tones.
Seulgi blinks slowly, feeling the heaviness in her eyelids. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. She doesn’t remember dreaming. Only the emptiness, the nothingness, as if her mind had shut down for a few hours and now she was back in the same gray reality.
She clumsily sits up, her body numb from the position she stayed in. Her muscles protest when she stretches her arms, but she ignores the discomfort and lets her bare feet find the cold floor.
The phone vibrates again on the nightstand.
Message from Kyung:
"If you need anything, let me know."
Seulgi stares at the screen for a moment before locking it. Kyung has always been like that, sending short but constant messages, as if she feared Seulgi would disappear if she didn’t keep her anchored to reality with those little phrases.
But Seulgi already feels like she’s disappearing.
She walks toward the window and pulls the curtain aside with two fingers. The street is still there, as if the world hasn’t stopped since Jaeyi disappeared. The normalcy of everything feels almost offensive.
She steps away from the window and forces herself to move.
She finds a clean sweatshirt in the suitcase, throws it over the wrinkled t-shirt she slept in, and gathers her hair into a messy bun. The mirror on the wall reflects her face: pale, eyes framed by deep dark circles, an empty expression.
She lowers her gaze.
A pair of sneakers, the laces barely tied. A light coat draped over the chair.
Leave.
She doesn’t feel like it, but staying here won’t change anything.
She grabs the keys and the phone, and leaves the apartment without thinking too much.
The morning air is fresh, smelling of coffee from the street vendors and the wet asphalt from the night’s drizzle. Seulgi walks aimlessly, hands buried in the pockets of her sweatshirt. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but her steps take her back to the sea.
When she arrives at the coast, the salty breeze tangles her loose hair. There are a few people on the beach—few. A man jogging near the shore, an older woman walking her dog, a couple of kids running with laughter carried by the wind.
Seulgi stops near a railing that separates the sidewalk from the sand. She rests her arms on the cold metal and watches the sea.
It’s the same as always. Calm, but with that immense, eternal presence.
She presses her lips together.
In her mind, the water is still dark, hungry. It keeps taking Jaeyi, over and over again.
She closes her eyes for a moment, letting the wind cool her skin.
When she opens them again, someone is standing beside her.
The girl from the day before.
Now, she watches her out of the corner of her eye, with the same cautious expression. As if Seulgi were an injured animal that might run away if anyone gets too close, too quickly.
"You look tired," the girl says, her voice hoarse from the morning.
Seulgi doesn’t answer. She just turns her gaze back to the sea.
"You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to," the girl adds, shrugging. "But you look like someone who hasn’t slept well in months."
The accuracy of the comment makes Seulgi clench her jaw.
A silence.
"Are you from here?" the girl asks after a few seconds.
Seulgi shakes her head. She’d rather pretend she doesn’t know this place than explain all her past.
"I thought so. You have the face of an outsider."
Seulgi lets out a barely audible sigh.
"Woo Seulgi," she murmurs, more out of instinct than wanting to introduce herself.
The other girl looks at her for a moment, as if evaluating whether that name fits the person standing before her.
"I’m Yeonjin."
A new name. A new face.
Something that doesn’t belong to her past.
Seulgi doesn’t know if that pleases her or makes her uncomfortable.
But she also doesn’t know what to do with it.
So, she just stands there, watching the sea, while a stranger stands beside her in silence.
No questions.
No expectations.
As if she understands that, sometimes, there’s nothing to say.
The wind blows gently, but the breeze is cold against Seulgi’s skin. Still, she doesn’t move.
Neither does Yeonjin.
They remain like that, with the sea stretching out before them, breathing the same salty air without exchanging more words.
Seulgi finds a twisted sense of relief in that shared silence. She’s used to people trying to fill it with empty phrases, with questions she doesn’t want to answer. But Yeonjin doesn’t do that. She’s just there, standing, as if part of the landscape.
After a while, Yeonjin moves first.
“It’s too early to be here,” she says, putting her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
Seulgi doesn’t respond, but Yeonjin doesn’t seem to expect a reaction.
“I’m going for a coffee.” She gestures toward the street. “Want one?”
Seulgi’s first instinct is to say no. But there’s something in the casual way Yeonjin offers it, in the lack of insistence or sympathy in her tone, that makes her hesitate.
“…Yes.”
Her own voice sounds strange, as if she isn’t used to using it.
Yeonjin nods, not changing her neutral expression.
“Okay. Follow me.”
And Seulgi does.
Her steps feel heavy, but she moves. She walks alongside someone. She steps out of the fog she’s wrapped herself in since she got here, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
The café is a few blocks away. A small place, with a display case of freshly baked bread and the aroma of roasted beans filling the air. Yeonjin orders without hesitation, as if she already has a routine established.
“One black,” she tells the barista. “And…” She slightly turns her head toward Seulgi, waiting.
Seulgi blinks, confused by the unspoken question. She doesn’t remember the last time she bought coffee.
“The same,” she says in the end.
Yeonjin pays without giving her a chance to protest. Seulgi feels an impulse to object, to insist she can pay for her own drink, but she doesn’t. She’s too tired to argue over something so trivial.
When the cups are ready, they head back out onto the street.
Yeonjin hands her the coffee without ceremony.
“Are you planning to stay here for long?” she asks after taking a sip of hers.
Seulgi watches the steam rise from the cup in her hands.
“I don’t know.”
It’s the truth.
She doesn’t know if this place will keep her or if one day she’ll just pack up again and disappear like Jaeyi did.
Yeonjin nods, as if that answer doesn’t surprise her.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you again then.”
Seulgi looks at her cautiously.
“Why?”
Yeonjin gives a half-smile. Not mocking, but with a certain air of certainty.
“Because I always end up crossing paths with people who need to be alone without being completely alone.”
And with that, she gives a slight nod and walks down the street, hands still in her pockets.
Seulgi stands there, the lukewarm coffee in her hands, watching her silhouette until she disappears into the crowd.
She’s not sure what to do with what just happened.
But for the first time in a long time, the thought of going back to her apartment doesn’t feel so heavy.
She takes a sip of the coffee.
It’s bitter. Strong.
And for the first time in months, it reminds her that she’s still alive.
The coffee stays warm in her hands. Seulgi stands there, watching the foam dissipate on the dark surface.
Yeonjin is no longer there. Her silhouette vanished among the passersby, as if she had never been there.
But the feeling of her presence still lingers.
Seulgi realizes that she doesn't want to return to the apartment yet. She doesn’t want to be trapped between her own walls, breathing the same dense air that surrounds her every time she’s alone.
So, she walks.
The coffee warms her from the inside as she wanders through the still half-asleep streets of the coastal city. The sounds of daily life begin to make their way through: distant car horns, hurried footsteps, scattered laughter from a breakfast stall.
She stops at a small park, with worn wooden benches and trees twisted by the sea breeze. She sits on one of them, setting the imaginary suitcase of her thoughts aside.
She sighs.
She brings the cup to her lips and takes another sip.
Jaeyi. Jaeyi.
The name is still a thorn lodged in her mind. A constant reminder, an absence that never quite settles.
She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the backrest of the bench. When she opens them again, there’s a familiar figure walking along the sidewalk in front.
Yeonjin.
She’s holding a paper bag and seems lost in her own thoughts. She hasn’t seen her.
Seulgi should let her pass. It’s not her problem. It’s not her business.
But without thinking too much, she moves.
“Yeonjin.”
The other stops, turning her head with mild surprise.
“Oh. You’re still here.”
Seulgi shrugs.
“I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
Yeonjin watches her for a second, then raises the bag in her hand.
“I bought some bread. Want some?”
Seulgi hesitates.
She’s not sure why she keeps accepting this girl’s offers.
But in the end, she nods.
Yeonjin sits beside her on the bench and takes out a roll, tearing it in half before offering her a piece.
They eat in silence.
The sun starts to rise, coloring the sky in golden hues.
And, for the first time in a long time, Seulgi feels that the morning is not just a continuation of the night.
The calm that settles between them is so soft that, for a moment, Seulgi forgets why she feels so empty. She’s just there, sitting on that bench with Yeonjin, eating bread, breathing the same fresh air that surrounds them.
Yeonjin, as always, doesn't talk much. Seulgi appreciates that. The company without the need for explanations, for forced smiles.
The sun is already a little higher, and the golden light makes the park seem less gloomy, less like an extension of the same emptiness Seulgi has been dragging with her.
When they finish the bread, Yeonjin puts the paper in her backpack.
"You have to go to work, right?" Seulgi asks without thinking.
Yeonjin looks at her for a second, as if she’s not exactly sure what to expect from the question.
"No. I have the day off."
Seulgi watches her, not knowing what else to say. The calm of the morning, the simple fact of being with someone who expects nothing from her, makes her feel like she can breathe a little more easily.
"I don't know if I should be here." Seulgi says softly, like a confession that hasn't been asked for.
Yeonjin looks at her intently, not as if she's looking for something, but as if she already knows what Seulgi is about to say, as if it doesn’t surprise her.
"Why?" She asks, her tone curious but not insistent.
Seulgi doesn't know how to answer. She can't say that everything around her reminds her of Jaeyi. She can't say that she feels trapped in the memory of someone she never stopped searching for, waiting for. She can't say that it feels like she's living in a story that isn't hers, a story she can't let go of.
So, she just stays silent, looking at the horizon, watching how the clouds slowly scatter in the sky.
Yeonjin, as if knowing that this is the answer, doesn't say anything else. She just stays there, beside her, letting the silence settle between them.
It's strange, but Seulgi begins to feel somewhat lighter. Not as if everything is fine, because it’s not. But something inside her starts to loosen, as if she could finally let go of a part of what she’s been holding onto.
"You don't have to leave," Yeonjin says after a while, her voice soft, not pressing.
Seulgi looks at her for a moment.
"I don't want to be alone right now."
Yeonjin smiles, but it's a calm smile, without drama.
"Then you won’t be."
And for a moment, Seulgi believes that maybe, just maybe, being with someone isn't so hard. That maybe, the sea, the city, the coffee, and this strange connection between the two of them could offer her something more than painful memories. Something more than the constant nostalgia for Jaeyi.
Seulgi stays looking ahead, the horizon blurred by the sun's glare. The feeling of peace, although momentary, feels strange. Like she’s floating in a space that isn’t hers. The memories, the thoughts about Jaeyi, the life she left behind, return to surround her, like a persistent fog that never fully clears.
Yeonjin, seemingly unaware of the storm raging in her mind, continues watching her in silence. But Seulgi knows that something has changed between them. The stillness of the morning, the quiet laughter shared, the softness of the air... something in all of that makes her feel less invisible.
Seulgi sighs deeply, as if that sigh could also exhale everything that consumes her inside.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice broken by the weight of the unspoken. "I don’t know how to be here, how to do this, how..."
Yeonjin watches her calmly, without hurry, without making her feel like she needs to rush to explain. And that, in some way, makes Seulgi sink even deeper into her own pain.
"You don’t have to apologize for being... lost," Yeonjin says softly. The word "lost" hangs in the air between them, like something so clear, yet so difficult to accept.
Seulgi turns her head, avoiding her gaze for a moment. She can't help but feel that, at some point, she’s failing Yeonjin, that simple and yet bewildering calm.
"Jaeyi." The name of the missing person slips from her lips, though she didn’t plan it. It feels like an open wound, still fresh. Her throat tightens, and she feels like the words no longer come to her in the same way they did months ago.
Yeonjin says nothing. She simply watches her, allowing the silence to take care of the words. The feeling of Jaeyi’s absence settles in again, strong, as real as the breeze that brushes against Seulgi’s skin.
"I don't know how to keep going without her," Seulgi whispers, more to herself than to Yeonjin. The words barely leave her, as if even the idea of saying it out loud is a betrayal.
Yeonjin finally breaks the silence, her voice soft but firm.
"You don't have to stop feeling what you feel for her." It's a whisper, but full of understanding. "You don't have to pretend that everything is fine."
Seulgi looks at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. Something in that simple phrase makes her feel, for a brief moment, less alone.
"But..." The words get stuck in her throat, the knot tightening even more. "It's like everything I do reminds me of her. Even when I try to move on, every corner, every detail, every moment... everything brings me back to her. I can't stop feeling like I'm... betraying her."
Yeonjin stays silent for a few seconds, as if processing those words, carrying them with her own awareness. And then, finally, she says what Seulgi didn’t expect:
"You’re not betraying her. You’re living. And that's what she would have wanted." Yeonjin’s gaze softens, without hurry, without judgment. "That doesn’t erase her. It doesn’t erase you. But it’s what you’re still doing. You’re still existing, still breathing. And even though it’s not easy, that’s still part of you."
Seulgi stays still, her face toward the ground, as if Yeonjin's words were a gentle current she couldn't avoid following, even if it dragged her through unknown paths.
The relationship between the two seems so simple, so natural. But inside Seulgi, everything stirs with an intensity that she struggles to understand.
"I don’t want to forget her." It’s a plea, so weak it’s almost inaudible.
"You’ll never forget her," Yeonjin responds without hesitation. The confidence in her words is unsettling. As if she understands something Seulgi isn’t ready to accept yet.
For a moment, silence envelops them again. But this time, it’s not so heavy.
Seulgi slowly leans back against the bench, looking at the sky. The sea breeze caresses her skin, the salty smell reminds her of her childhood, of the nights with Jaeyi. Of the days when everything seemed simpler, when the future wasn’t so full of emptiness.
Jaeyi...
Yeonjin’s voice, soft and steady, pulls her back to the present.
"It’s okay to remember. It’s okay not to forget. But don’t get stuck. Don’t let the past hold you back."
Seulgi closes her eyes, allowing the moment, allowing Yeonjin’s words to stay with her. Maybe, somehow, she can find a way forward without feeling like she’s betraying what was.
Three months have passed.
Three months since Seulgi left behind her old life, the streets she knew, the memories that haunted her, and her house, which now feels as distant as a forgotten dream. The apartment she lives in now, near the sea, remains her refuge, though it never feels like home.
Seulgi walks through the coastal city, more familiar now, though always with that feeling of being a stranger, as if her presence were merely a passing shadow. People greet her, but she only responds with a polite smile. The daily routine consumes her: work, the little contact with Yeonjin, the long walks by the sea to clear her mind.
Sometimes, when the wind carries the salty scent of the ocean, she closes her eyes and, for a moment, she believes she’ll hear Jaeyi’s voice, as clear as if she were right there beside her. The reality, however, hits her hard. Jaeyi is no longer here. And she is still here, trapped between what was and what she doesn’t know how to face.
The sun is low, filtering through the branches of the trees lining the beach. Seulgi finds herself once again on the bench where she was with Yeonjin, watching the breeze stir the waves on the horizon. It’s a beautiful landscape, but empty. An emptiness she’s learned to carry.
"What are you doing here alone again?" Yeonjin’s voice interrupts her thoughts, softly. Seulgi recognizes her before seeing her, and feeling that familiar presence, her chest feels a little lighter, though not enough to release the knot inside her.
Yeonjin approaches, sitting beside her without making too many comments. She has learned not to push, and that, in some way, gives Seulgi the space she needs.
"I was just thinking..." Seulgi begins, but the words get caught in her throat.
What can she say? That she’s still waiting for a sign, a memory, for Jaeyi to come back, that somehow all of this is just a bad dream she’ll wake up from someday?
Yeonjin watches her in silence, waiting.
"I don’t know how to make this stop." The confession comes as naturally as breathing, though as she says it, she feels her soul lighten a little. She no longer has to carry that pressure alone.
"What do you want to stop?" Yeonjin asks, her voice soft but direct.
Seulgi doesn’t know if there’s an answer to that. The memories of Jaeyi are like a storm, uncontrollable, as if they’re trapped inside her head, always present, always pushing, always making her doubt.
"Everything." Her voice trembles a little, but it doesn't matter. "The nights when I still hear her calling my name, the days when I don't know if I'm walking or just floating. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really here... or if I'm just waiting for something to change. For her to come back."
Yeonjin doesn't respond immediately. Seulgi feels the other’s gaze on her, warm but piercing, as if she’s stripping her of all her insecurities without needing to touch her.
"Sometimes I think what scares me the most isn’t that Jaeyi won’t come back." Seulgi continues, the words flowing with difficulty, as if she’s searching for something but isn’t sure what. "What really scares me is that, when it’s all over, I won’t know who I am. I don’t know if I’m the same person I was before... before everything."
It’s the first time she’s said it out loud. The first time she admits that fear, the fear of losing herself in the pain, in the memories, in the wait that never ends.
Yeonjin stays silent for a few seconds, watching the waves break in the distance before turning to Seulgi.
"You haven’t lost yourself, Seulgi." Yeonjin's voice is calm, firm. "You’re changing, but you’re not losing who you are."
Seulgi looks at her, searching for something in her eyes, some answer that isn’t so empty, but all she finds is something close to the truth. The truth she hasn’t wanted to face.
"I don’t know if I want to change." The word hangs in the air, heavy, like a dead weight crushing her.
"Then don’t change." Yeonjin’s response is direct, almost defiant, but not in a reproachful tone, rather one of acceptance.
"Just keep moving forward. Do it at your own pace, but do it. You have the right to take your time, but don’t stay stuck. Don’t do it for her, or for anyone else. Do it for yourself."
Seulgi remains silent, her eyes fixed on the waves that keep crashing on the shore. Yeonjin’s words weigh on her, but not in a negative way. It’s as if she’s inviting her to see things from a different place, from a space where she still has a say in her own life.
It’s a strange thought. But maybe, in the midst of all the chaos, she’s starting to see a way out.
Four months have passed since Seulgi moved. Four months in which, although the routine has become a sort of refuge, the nights are still the same: long, empty, with the same weight in her heart. The coastal city remains the same, unaware of everything that she carries inside. The sea breeze, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, always seem present, but never really comforting. Inside her, the storm remains intact.
Seulgi walks down the same street she has walked countless times since her arrival, the noise of the city and the voices of the people are just a distant echo in her mind. She’s grown accustomed to the feeling of disconnection, of being a ghost walking among people, but never with them. The suitcase, once filled with dreams and memories, is now just another burden. And yet, she can’t shake the feeling that something, somewhere, is still calling her.
The house is empty, emptier than ever. Every corner seems to absorb everything that remains of her; even the walls seem to whisper Jaeyi’s name. The absence is so overwhelming that sometimes Seulgi wonders if she’s really still here, or if it’s all just an echo of something that no longer exists.
The sound of the doorbell interrupts her thoughts. The door opens without much enthusiasm, and there stands Yeonjin, with an expression Seulgi already knows how to recognize. The kind of look that requires no words, because everything is said in those eyes.
"Here again?" Seulgi asks without stopping to observe her, though her voice is devoid of irony, of any attempt to hide what’s inside.
Yeonjin smiles softly, as if she understands. She approaches, unhurried, as if the time that passes between them no longer exists. Seulgi lets her in without saying anything else, as if it doesn’t matter. As if, in some way, Yeonjin is the only one keeping her connected to something.
Seulgi follows Yeonjin’s figure, watching her move around the room with the same calmness she always carries. The darkness of the afternoon creeps through the windows, bathing the room in a cozy dimness.
"How are you?" Yeonjin finally asks. The simple question seems absurd, but it’s what she always does. She doesn’t demand complex answers, doesn’t ask for explanations. She’s just there.
Seulgi remains silent for a moment, as if the words can no longer come out. She doesn’t know if there’s anything left to say that she hasn’t already said. She’s said it all, and yet, nothing seems to have changed.
"I don’t know," she answers at last, after a long, almost uncomfortable pause. The answer is more of a reflection than a real answer. She’s stopped counting the days, the hours, the moments when she’s tried to maintain control over herself, but has failed.
"Sometimes I feel like I’m just... fading away. Like it doesn’t matter. Like what happens here." She says, softly tapping her chest with her fingers. "No longer has meaning."
Yeonjin watches her in silence, her gaze soft, as if she’s waiting for something more. As if she’s waiting for Seulgi to say the truth she still hasn’t spoken, the one hiding behind every word.
“And why does it matter?” The question comes from Yeonjin without warning, but it’s not an accusation. Just an invitation to see things from another angle. “Why does it matter if you’re fading away? We all do, in some way. It’s just that some don’t notice until it’s too late.”
Seulgi feels as if she’s been struck. Anger, frustration, fear—all mix in her chest at once, and suddenly she feels like she might scream. But instead, she just stands there, looking at Yeonjin, as if she doesn’t know who this person in front of her is. The discomfort runs through her skin, a chill she can’t identify.
“What do you know?” Her voice cracks, but the fury behind the words is more of a suppressed scream than a real challenge.
“What do you know about all this? You don’t understand. You don’t...” Her throat tightens, and for a moment, Seulgi feels small, weak. As if everything she’s done until now has been in vain, as if the pain she feels isn’t real.
Yeonjin doesn’t respond right away. She stands still, letting her be in her anger, without trying to stop her. And in that silence, Seulgi feels how everything she’s been holding back, everything she’s kept for so long, is about to explode.
“I’ve lost things too, Seulgi.” Yeonjin’s voice cuts through the air, calm but firm. “I’ve lost things I’ll never get back. And I know what it feels like to think there’s nothing else. But... you have to decide if you stay trapped in that pain or if you choose to find something else. Something worth moving forward for.”
Yeonjin’s words hit her chest like a truth she doesn’t want to hear. Seulgi feels lost, as if the time and everything that’s happened since she arrived here hasn’t mattered. But at the same time, there’s something in Yeonjin’s words that forces her to think.
What would she do if she stopped clinging to the pain? What would remain then?
Yeonjin takes a step toward her, unafraid, unhurried. And for a moment, Seulgi feels vulnerable, as if her soul is naked before her.
“You don’t have to do it all now.” Yeonjin looks at her, her eyes full of a comprehension that torments Seulgi because it’s what she’s been avoiding all this time. “Just take one step. One. That’s all I’m asking.”
Seulgi takes a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind in her head. But every word from Yeonjin stays with her, like a seed that’s starting to sprout, even though she doesn’t know if she’s ready to let it grow.
For a moment, the world around her seems to stop, as if only the two of them remain, trapped in the stillness of a moment that could change everything. But Seulgi still doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know if she can take that step.
And yet, she’s starting to wonder if it’s the only thing she can do.
Five months have passed since Seulgi moved, and although time hasn’t erased everything, it has left its mark. The daily routines, once an exercise in pure endurance, have now begun to become something more bearable.
Mornings are no longer so marked by the heaviness of getting out of bed, and afternoons are not as long or as empty. Seulgi has learned to move her head forward, to let the sunlight come through the window with something more than indifference.
Sometimes, it even seems to her that the colors of the day are brighter, that conversations with the neighbors carry more weight. But the shadow of Jaeyi is still there, the figure of the girl who is no longer here, the one who seems to have been tattooed in the back of her mind.
Her room is less messy now, a reflection of how she feels. The papers that were once scattered everywhere are now carefully stacked on the desk, the books arranged with an almost obsessive meticulousness. Cleaning is not an act of purification, but of control. Deep down, Seulgi knows she is trying to have control over something, even if she can't always control what’s inside her.
Today, like every day, she has gotten up early, let the sunlight bathe her face, and gone out for a walk around the city. The sea breeze, which once felt like mockery, now caresses her, reminds her that she is still alive, even though she can’t shake the feeling of floating.
She has started to understand that she is searching for something that she may never find, and sometimes she doubts it. But sometimes, no, sometimes she feels that somewhere, deep inside herself, she is still holding onto the image of Jaeyi like a reflection in the water. Something that cannot be touched, but is there, waiting.
As she walks, the streets feel more familiar, though she still doesn’t feel like part of them. Sometimes, when she turns a corner, she feels a pang in her chest, as if she’s about to find someone, someone who will see her, who will recognize her in some way, but it never happens. The city goes on, oblivious to her pain, and she keeps walking, trying to find her place.
In these months, Seulgi has also begun to study, diving deeper into books, into the letters that slide across the paper. They are an escape, but also a way to find something to focus on.
Jaeyi always appears in her thoughts, sometimes as blurry memories, other times as a strange presence that slips into her dreams. Some nights, when everything is quiet and Seulgi closes her eyes, she can see her face as if she were right there, in front of her, but when she tries to reach her, she fades away.
“What would you do if you were here now?”
Seulgi wonders aloud, a question she has thrown into the air many times over the last few months. There is no answer, only the whisper of her own voice lost in the stillness of the room.
In the past few days, she has tried to stop thinking so much about what could have been and focus more on what is happening. The pain is still there, but it’s not as overwhelming. There aren’t as many moments when she wants to scream, not as many moments when the loneliness drowns her. But somewhere, deep inside, there is always an echo of Jaeyi. As if that part of her would never disappear, as if it were a bond that would never break.
Sometimes, when she looks at herself in the mirror, she searches her own eyes for something that connects her to the past. But what she sees is a Seulgi who no longer fully knows who she is. That feeling of searching for something that doesn’t exist, of running away from a truth that is gone, continues to drag her, although more slowly. She feels stronger, yes, but also emptier.
The phone rings on the nightstand, a vibration that startles her. It’s a message from Kyung, but Seulgi doesn’t look at it immediately. The relationship between them has changed, become quieter, more distant, although Kyung still appears from time to time, like a reminder that there is something outside of her own pain.
Seulgi picks up the phone, reads the message, and stares at the screen for a few seconds. Kyung asks how she’s doing. It’s a question she knows doesn’t have an easy answer, but she responds anyway, almost automatically.
“I’m fine,”she types, even though she’s not, even though she’s never really been fine.
She closes the phone and sets it down on the table, looking out the window again. The city goes on, the waves crash on the shore, and Seulgi feels that the emptiness hasn’t left her. Jaeyi is still there, in her mind, as if she were a shadow that can’t be shaken off. But maybe, over time, she will learn to live with it.
Perhaps that’s the only option she has left.
Six months have passed. Time has slipped by like a calm and deceptive current, carrying away the chaos of the past, but without erasing the deep marks it left.
Seulgi no longer asks if the scars will ever disappear; she knows they won’t. She has accepted it. The pain has stopped being a storm that sweeps her away, and has become a constant murmur, a sensation that accompanies her but doesn’t drown her.
However, deep inside her, there is still a void, a space that she can’t fill, and in that gap, the echo of Jaeyi remains.
On the outside, Seulgi has learned to move forward. Mornings are no longer an unbearable burden; she has gotten used to getting up, getting dressed, going out into the world, and doing her part. She has started to find small moments of comfort in her routine, though nothing that truly fills her completely. The afternoons when she used to spend hours staring at the sea no longer cause her the same pain.
Now, more than a reminder of what she has lost, it has become a stage where she watches life from a distance.
But the nights are different.
The nights are both her refuge and her curse. The shadows in her room seem to stretch farther than during the day, and loneliness consumes her in a more visceral way. Sometimes, she curls up in bed, trying to trick her mind into deep dreams that never come, or stays awake late, staring at the ceiling while her thoughts spiral around Jaeyi.
It’s inevitable.
The image of Jaeyi, the laughter, the way she made her feel at home, is a weight she can’t shake off.
Seulgi has tried to let go of the guilt, that heavy burden she has dragged all this time. But every time she believes she has succeeded, Jaeyi’s memory hits her harder. Her face suddenly appears in her thoughts, as if the universe wants to remind her that it hasn’t been forgotten. Sometimes, Seulgi wonders if she really wants to forget.
Jaeyi’s memory, as painful as it is, seems to be the only thing that connects her to something real, to something authentic, and despite the internal storm, she can’t help but cling to it.
In these months, Seulgi has matured in her pain, if such a thing is possible. She has stopped fighting with herself as much as before. Now, her battle is in the silence. In the slow process of making peace with a part of herself that can never be whole. The questions are still there, fluttering in her mind.
What would have happened if things had been different? What would have happened if Jaeyi hadn’t left?
The sound of the front door makes her snap out of her reverie. The doorbell rings with an unusual clarity in the still air of the house, a sound too sharp for her dazed mind. Seulgi tenses, her heart pounding in her chest, and for a moment, she thinks she is dreaming. No one visits her, not after the fight with Yeonjin.
She walks toward the entrance, feeling her footsteps echo through the empty house. The doorbell rings once more, interrupting the silence that has surrounded her for so long. With trembling hands, Seulgi takes the doorknob and opens the door.
There, in the doorway, is Jaeyi.
Her presence is so sudden, so surreal, that for a second, Seulgi doubts what she is seeing. Her mind starts to spin, processing at an overwhelming speed, searching for a logical explanation, but finds none.
Jaeyi is there, standing, with an expression on her face that mixes surprise and something more. It's as if the months that have passed between them never existed. As if time had never moved forward.
Jaeyi stares at Seulgi with wide eyes full of an intensity Seulgi doesn’t know how to read. The air between them tightens immediately. There are no words at first, just a look that cuts through the distance that has grown between them.
"Seulgi..." Jaeyi's voice is soft, trembling, as if she still can't believe what she's doing.
Seulgi stands frozen, unable to react, unable to say anything. Everything she has lived through in the past months, all the rebuilding she had done of her life, seems to crumble in that moment. Her heart pounds hard in her chest, her breathing quickens, and for a moment, all she can do is look at Jaeyi.
"What... what are you doing here?" The question slips from her mouth like a breath of air, trembling, full of confusion.
Jaeyi doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze softens, her lips part, but no sound comes. And in that silent space, Seulgi realizes what is really happening.
Jaeyi has come back, and what she had been trying to avoid, the truth she had kept deep within herself, is about to spill over.
A tension builds in the air, one that has never existed between them.
Why did she make Seulgi suffer for six months?
Jaeyi is still there, standing in the doorway, her presence a mix of broken dreams and forgotten memories. Seulgi doesn't know what to do, how to react to the fact that she's standing in front of her, alive, breathing, after so much time.
The air between them tightens, heavy. Seulgi's eyes are fixed on Jaeyi, as if trying to decipher what she’s seeing, what is happening.
The words don't come, the emotions tumble over each other in her mind, but the impulse is faster than any reasoning.
Without thinking, without measuring the consequences, Seulgi takes a step forward, enough to approach, and in a sudden motion, strikes Jaeyi in the chest with all the weight of her frustration, her pain, her weeks of anxiety, of uncertainty, of not knowing if she would ever see the person who had been her only companion again.
The blow is sharp, full of contained rage, everything Seulgi has been holding back. The feeling of seeing Jaeyi again, having her in front of her, is like a torrent that drags her mercilessly, and in that moment, there is no control over what she does. Her chest feels empty, and her heart beats loudly, as if all the suffering of the past months had finally found a way to escape.
Jaeyi takes a step back, her eyes wide with surprise and pain, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t defend herself. The strike isn’t violent, but it’s a silent scream of what Seulgi has lived: the pain of not having had her, of not being able to protect her, of being left behind while the world kept turning without her.
Seulgi is agitated, breathing heavily. The fury, the confusion, the sadness, and the relief mix in her chest, creating an internal storm she doesn’t know how to handle. Her hand remains extended, as if she wants to do something else, as if she still needs to hit her, though she doesn’t know why.
“Why...?” Jaeyi’s voice finally emerges, weak, incredulous, as if trying to understand what just happened. Her eyes shine with a mixture of sadness and disdain, but there’s something else, something Seulgi can’t read, something that hurts even more.
The spark of confusion between them is palpable, as if the words Jaeyi might say aren’t enough to fix what’s broken.
Seulgi doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her lips tremble, but no words come out. Her gaze drifts into the emptiness, as if the fact that Jaeyi is here in front of her is too big to comprehend. For a moment, Seulgi feels like she’s completely lost control, as if her body, her thoughts, her entire being were about to collapse under the weight of the unexpected.
“Where have you been?” Finally, the question slips from her mouth. The question that’s been circling in her mind for months, the one she never dared to ask because she knew there would be no answer.
Jaeyi doesn’t answer right away. There’s something in her face Seulgi can’t identify. A heavy silence hangs between them, like a thick fog that doesn’t allow them to see beyond. The tension between them is thick, as if the whole world has stopped to listen to what comes next.
“I’m sorry, Seulgi.” Jaeyi’s voice is low, soft, but filled with a pain Seulgi didn’t expect to hear. Jaeyi steps toward her, but Seulgi steps back, as if her closeness is too intense to bear. “I’m so sorry, I... I should’ve protected you from my father.”
The sincerity in her eyes makes Seulgi’s stomach twist. She doesn’t want to believe it. She doesn’t want to believe that Jaeyi has returned, but at the same time, something inside her can’t stop feeling that, even though she’s been absent, Jaeyi never truly abandoned her.
That feeling, that persistent echo, makes Seulgi lose her breath for a moment.
Jaeyi tries to take another step toward her, but Seulgi stops her, raising her hand as if trying to protect herself from something she doesn’t know if she’s willing to accept.
“Why did you come back?” The question is more urgent now, as if something inside her is about to explode. The confusion is complete, and the pain, the fear, the rage, are combining into an emotional whirlwind that threatens to bring her down.
Jaeyi looks at her in silence, but doesn’t respond immediately. There’s something in her face that Seulgi can’t read, as if there’s something more about her that she can’t understand. A pain that Jaeyi still carries with her. The uncertainty of whether she’s here to stay or if all of this is just an illusion.
Time seems to stand still between them, and all Seulgi can do is look at her, searching for an answer that might never come.
“I’m sorry, Seulgi.” Jaeyi whispers again, and for a moment, Seulgi feels the wall she had built around herself shake, but she doesn’t dare bring it down. Not yet.
The air remains tense, heavy with unanswered questions. Seulgi is paralyzed, every muscle tense, her mind racing, trying to process what is happening.
Jaeyi is there, standing in front of her, apologizing, but Seulgi doesn’t know how to react. The words that once seemed so clear now crumble in her throat.
“I’m sorry…” Jaeyi repeats, her voice broken, almost as if she knows that those words won’t be enough to fix what has been broken between them. But she says it again, as if that could make sense of all the accumulated pain.
Seulgi closes her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the agitation in her chest. The weight of forgiveness, of broken promises, of months without answers, is crushing her. Everything she had tried to bury deep inside herself, everything she had learned to live without, is now standing before her.
And the blow she gave Jaeyi, that fist full of anger and pain, now feels like a distant echo, a reflection of what once was. But it’s still there. Still resonating.
“Why did you leave? Why did you think we couldn’t get through this together?” The question comes out with more desperation, more pleading than Seulgi would dare admit. Her words are a whisper, almost inaudible, but loaded with the anguish of the months of uncertainty.
Jaeyi stays silent for a moment, as if the words are too far from her reach. Her face, usually so full of life, now looks smaller, more vulnerable, as if carrying a burden she couldn’t put into words.
“I don’t know how to explain it…” Jaeyi begins, and her voice cracks. She doesn’t look directly at Seulgi, as if afraid her eyes might say what her words cannot express.
“I was lost, Seulgi. I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t let my father hurt you again. I...”
Jaeyi’s confession is like a dull blow to Seulgi’s chest. The pain of the absence, the endless days when she couldn’t understand why Jaeyi had disappeared, now has an answer. But it’s not an answer that comforts her. Instead, it leaves even more questions floating in the air.
Seulgi takes a deep breath, trying to control the whirlwind of emotions that consumes her. She’s tired.
Tired of being trapped in this cycle of love and hate, of desires and resentments, of memories blending with reality.
She doesn’t know if she’s ready to forgive, doesn’t even know if she wants to forgive. The idea of rebuilding what they had, of going back to that place where things seemed simple and clear, feels like a monumental task.
“And now what?” Seulgi’s voice is low, but filled with a tension that cuts the air between them. “Are you going to stay? Or are you going to keep disappearing every time you think you have to protect me?”
Jaeyi looks at her now, her eyes red from the effort of not letting herself be overwhelmed, of not letting the tears dominate her. She doesn’t answer immediately. She just stands there, like a presence that still has the power to destabilize everything in Seulgi.
A long silence stretches between them, and Seulgi feels her heart pounding in her chest. She’s exhausted. She doesn’t know if she can take any more of this.
Jaeyi has returned, but the pain, the anger, the lack of understanding... all of that remains intact.
Finally, Jaeyi takes a step toward her. But this time, Seulgi doesn’t step back. She doesn’t know if it’s because she really wants to hug her, or if she’s simply too tired to keep resisting. Jaeyi reaches out her hand, trembling, and before Seulgi can process it, their fingers brush.
The electricity that runs through her body is so intense it leaves her breathless. The sensation of contact, after so many months of absence, is so overwhelming that everything else disappears for a moment. The whole world seems to stop.
Jaeyi speaks in a low voice, almost a whisper.
"I've missed you so much, Seulgi. More than you could imagine."
The words fall between them like a promise, like an attempt to redeem what was lost. And although Seulgi feels a part of herself yield to that confession, she knows that the path to reconciliation, to understanding, won't be easy.
But for now, for a fleeting second, Seulgi allows the warmth of Jaeyi's hand to envelop her. She allows herself to feel the pain and relief mixed together, because even though she can't explain it, deep down inside, she knows this isn't over.
That there is something more, something that still beats between them.
Jaeyi. Jaeyi.