A Taste of Healing

Jinsol wasn’t the type to dwell on things.

She was always busy—too busy to waste time overthinking. Running a restaurant meant her mind was constantly occupied with ingredients, orders, deliveries, and making sure Jiwoo didn’t sneak extra food into her backpack before heading out for deliveries.

But lately, even in the middle of all that, she had noticed something.

Or rather, the absence of something.

Yoona hadn’t been coming by.

At first, Jinsol hadn’t thought much of it. The hospital had always kept her busy, and sometimes their schedules just didn’t line up. That was normal.

But days turned into weeks.

And now, over a month had passed.

Yoona used to drop by casually, as if Sol’s Table was just another part of her routine. Even if it was just for a quick meal before her shift, or to steal a moment of peace in the middle of a long day.

Now, she was nowhere to be seen.

Jinsol wouldn’t have thought much about it—except that people in town were talking.

She heard it in passing, snippets of conversation floating through the restaurant.

“Dr. Seol and Dr. Park have been spending a lot of time together, haven’t they?”

“Oh, definitely. They’re always eating together these days.”

“Didn’t you see them last night? They looked cute.”

Jinsol had never really paid attention to town gossip before. Most of the time, it was just harmless chatter. But for some reason, those words had stuck with her.

She hadn’t asked about it. Hadn’t wanted to.

But once she started noticing, she couldn’t stop.

Jiwoo, of course, picked up on it almost immediately.

“Isn’t it funny how Dr. Seol used to eat here all the time, and now she’s suddenly too busy?” Jiwoo had remarked one day, while folding delivery bags at the counter. Her voice was light, teasing—but she was definitely fishing for a reaction.

Jinsol didn’t give her one.

“She’s just busy,” Jinsol said simply, turning back to the stove.

Jiwoo hummed. “Right. Busy getting taken out to fancy restaurants by Dr. Park.”

Jinsol’s grip on the spatula tightened slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

“Hey, boss?” Jiwoo leaned her arms on the counter, watching her carefully. “You don’t care about that, right?”

Jinsol exhaled through her nose, flipping the fish she was grilling. “Why would I?”

Jiwoo grinned. “Dunno. Just checking.”

Jinsol ignored her and focused on cooking.

But the words lingered.

She shouldn’t care.

And yet, for some reason, her restaurant felt a little emptier these days.

Jinsol had always believed in taking opportunities when they came.

That was how Sol’s Table had started—through sheer determination, careful planning, and a little bit of luck. And now, she had the chance to do something even bigger.

She had spent weeks going back and forth in her mind, hesitating, thinking, wondering.

But at some point, she had already made her decision.

She was going to Seoul.

Maybe it hadn’t hit her fully yet, but her heart had partially accepted it. She had started thinking about the logistics—what kind of space she wanted, the menu, the kind of atmosphere she wanted to create.

Seoul was a different game. It was faster, busier, full of competition.

She would need to be ready for that.

And that meant focusing.

She spent more time in her office now, going over plans, scribbling notes on potential menus, researching suppliers in the city. Jiwoo had noticed, of course.

“You’re actually serious about this, huh?” she had said one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe.

Jinsol didn’t look up from her notes. “Wouldn’t be planning if I wasn’t.”

Jiwoo whistled. “Damn. Feels weird, though. This place without you? I can’t imagine it.”

Jinsol just smiled a little, but she didn’t say anything.

The truth was, she hadn’t been thinking much about Sol’s Table these days.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love it—she did. This restaurant had been her life for years. But her mind was already in Seoul, already moving forward, planning ahead.

And, strangely enough, she hadn’t been thinking much about Yoona either.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other much lately.

Or maybe it was because there wasn’t anything to think about.

Yoona had her own life—she was at the hospital, she was out with Jihoon, she was doing whatever she needed to do.

And Jinsol had hers.

She told herself that this was fine.

That this was how things were supposed to be.

But then, sometimes, in the quiet moments—when she was closing up the restaurant late at night, or when she was riding home on her scooter, feeling the cool ocean breeze—she would catch herself wondering.

Would Yoona even notice when she left?

Would it even make a difference?

And if it did… did she even want to know?

Jinsol arrived home later than usual.

She had been staying at the restaurant longer these days, telling herself it was because of planning. In reality, she just didn’t want to come home to her mother’s questions.

But there was no escaping her tonight.

As soon as she stepped inside, her mother—who had been sitting comfortably on the couch, peeling fruit—turned to her with a knowing smile.

“You’re late,” she said, setting down the knife. “Busy thinking about your fancy new restaurant?”

Jinsol sighed, placing her bag on the table. “Something like that.”

Her mother hummed, watching her carefully. “You’ve been different lately.”

Jinsol didn’t respond.

She was hoping that would be the end of it.

But then—

“So, what about Yoona?”

Jinsol’s hands stilled. “What about her?”

Her mother gave her a look. “I haven’t heard you mention her lately. I heard from the other ladies that she’s been spending time with that young doctor, Park Jihoon.”

Jinsol forced herself to stay neutral. “Yeah. I’ve heard.”

Her mother studied her for a moment. “You don’t look happy about it.”

Jinsol exhaled sharply. “Why would I be? She can do whatever she wants.”

Her mother clicked her tongue. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jinsol didn’t answer. Instead, she walked past her mother and into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to busy herself.

But her mother wasn’t done.

“You know,” she continued, voice softer now, “when I first heard about Yoona, I thought you liked her.”

Jinsol’s grip tightened around the glass. “She’s just a friend.”

Her mother let out a small laugh. “If you say so.”

Jinsol turned around, frowning. “I do.”

Her mother raised a brow, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like that every time I bring her up?”

Jinsol didn’t have an answer for that.

She could feel her mother’s gaze, gentle yet piercing, as if she could see straight through her.

After a long pause, her mother finally sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, whatever it is, I just hope you don’t leave with regrets,” she said simply, picking up her fruit again. “That’s all I’ll say.”

Jinsol swallowed.

She didn’t respond.

Because deep down, she wasn’t sure if she could promise that.

—

The town had fallen into its usual quiet.

Shops had long since closed, their windows dark, and the only sounds left were the soft rustling of trees and the distant hum of waves crashing against the shore. The ocean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and grilled fish from the last street vendors shutting down for the night.

Jinsol wasn’t tired. Or maybe she was, but not in a way that sleep could fix.

She grabbed her keys, slipping out of the house as quietly as possible. Her mother had already gone to bed, but even if she were awake, she wouldn’t have questioned it. Jinsol had always been like this—restless, drawn to the night when her thoughts became too loud to ignore.

The streets were nearly empty as she rode her scooter toward the coastline, the streetlights casting long, pale shadows. The gentle hum of the engine was the only noise accompanying her, apart from the distant crash of waves.

It didn’t take long for her to reach her usual spot—a quiet overlook by the water, where a single wooden bench sat facing the ocean. She had been coming here for years, whenever she needed to think or simply breathe.

Parking the scooter, she pulled off her helmet and ran a hand through her hair, letting the cool air settle over her skin. The wind was stronger here, rolling off the waves, carrying with it the endless scent of salt and the distant echoes of the sea.

She sat down on the bench, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees.

The water stretched out endlessly before her, dark and vast under the moonlight. It was calming. Familiar.

Yet, tonight, she felt restless.

Her thoughts drifted back to the past month, to the slow but noticeable changes in her life.

Her restaurant was running as usual, Jiwoo still showing up every day with the same easygoing energy, her mother still pestering her about eating properly and taking care of herself.

And yet, something felt different.

Or maybe, someone was missing.

Yoona.

It wasn’t as if Jinsol hadn’t seen her at all—she still caught glimpses of her at the hospital, heard people talking about her around town. But it wasn’t the same. Yoona didn’t come by the restaurant anymore. Didn’t drop in with tired smiles or complain about long shifts while picking at whatever food Jinsol set in front of her.

She was always with him now.

Dr. Park Jihoon.

Jinsol wasn’t sure why it even bothered her.

Yoona had the right to spend time with whoever she wanted. She wasn’t tied to Sol’s Table, and she definitely wasn’t tied to Jinsol.

So why did it feel so... off?

Jinsol exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if that would rid her of the thoughts circling in her mind.

She should be focusing on Seoul. On her new restaurant, her new future.

She had already partially accepted the offer.

She had started making plans, sketching out menus, listing potential locations.

Everything was set in motion.

Everything was moving forward.

Then why did it feel like she was stuck?

She leaned back against the bench, tilting her head up toward the sky. The stars were faint, barely visible against the glow of the town’s lights. The ocean, at least, remained the same—vast and endless, stretching beyond what she could see.

Jinsol closed her eyes, listening to the waves.

For a moment, she let herself forget.

Forget about Seoul, about the restaurant, about Yoona’s absence.

For just a little while, she allowed herself to simply be.

But the moment never lasted long enough.

And when she opened her eyes again, the ocean was still there, unchanged—only now, it felt lonelier than before.

Jinsol had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

It wasn’t until she caught movement from the corner of her eye that she turned—only to see Yoona standing a few steps away, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, hair slightly tousled from the ocean breeze.

Jinsol stiffened, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected to see her here.

Yoona offered a small smile, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

Jinsol exhaled, turning her attention back to the waves. “I could say the same to you.”

Yoona stepped closer, her shoes barely making a sound against the pavement. “I saw your scooter parked nearby.”

Jinsol hummed, unsure of what else to say. It had been a while since they’d spoken alone, and the silence between them now felt heavier than before.

Yoona didn’t sit down. Instead, she stood beside the bench, gazing out at the dark ocean. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the steady crash of waves against the shore.

Then, out of nowhere, Yoona said, “You should go.”

Jinsol’s brows furrowed slightly. “What?”

Yoona finally turned to look at her, the wind brushing strands of hair across her face. “The offer,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “You should go for it.”

Jinsol felt something tighten in her chest.

Jinsol let out a slow breath, keeping her expression neutral. “And why do you care?”

Yoona hesitated, as if she hadn’t expected the question. “Because…” She sighed, glancing away. “Because it’s a great opportunity. Because you deserve it.”

Jinsol scoffed lightly, leaning back against the bench. “Funny. You’re the last person I expected to say that.”

Yoona frowned. “Why?”

Jinsol shrugged, gaze still fixed on the ocean. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the last person to even find out about it.”

Yoona stiffened slightly at that. She didn’t deny it.

“…I wish I heard it from you first,” she admitted after a pause. “Not from someone else.”

Jinsol finally turned to look at her. There was something about the way Yoona stood there—shoulders slightly tense, hands still tucked into her coat pockets—that made her look smaller than usual.

For the first time in weeks, Jinsol could see it.

The same hesitation she had been feeling.

The same uncertainty.

But before Jinsol could say anything, Yoona spoke again.

“I just wanted to tell you,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You should go. Seoul has more to offer you than this place ever will.”

Jinsol felt the words settle into her chest, heavier than they should have been.

Yoona turned away then, as if she had nothing else to say.

And just like that, Jinsol was left alone with the sound of the waves and a decision that suddenly felt much harder to make.

—

The air inside Sol’s Table buzzed with an energy that Jinsol hadn’t felt in a long time. The news had spread fast—probably thanks to her mother—and now, the restaurant was filled with familiar faces, all eager to celebrate her decision.

“I’ve decided,” Jinsol announced, her voice steady as she met the food critic’s expectant gaze. “I’ll take the offer.”

The moment the words left her lips, the room erupted into cheers. Jiwoo clapped her on the back, her grin wider than ever. “That’s our boss! You’re gonna kill it in Seoul.”

“Finally, you’re doing something big with your talent,” her mother chimed in, standing proudly beside her. “I told you, didn’t I? This is fate.”

The food critic gave an approving nod. “You made the right choice. I’ll arrange everything and we’ll get started on the details soon.”

Jinsol smiled politely, nodding along as the conversation continued around her. Excitement filled the space—customers congratulated her, the kitchen staff murmured about how different things would be, and her mother was already thinking ahead to what she would brag about next.

Everything was moving forward.

But as Jinsol stood in the center of it all, she felt… unsettled.

Her eyes wandered toward the entrance, searching.

Yoona wasn’t there.

Jinsol had half-expected her to walk in at some point, even if just by accident. Maybe she’d show up the way she used to, her tired face softening at the smell of freshly cooked food. Maybe she’d say something, anything, about the decision.

But she hadn’t come.

Not today.

Not for the past several days.

Jinsol had been trying not to think about it—trying to tell herself that it was normal. People get busy. People have lives.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t it.

Ever since their conversation by the ocean, Yoona had been avoiding her. And it wasn’t like before when their distance had been subtle. This was something else. Something deliberate.

The realization made Jinsol’s stomach twist in a way she hated.

Why does it matter? she scolded herself. She told you to go. She doesn’t care.

And yet—

Even with all the voices around her, even with everyone congratulating her, it felt like something was missing.

Or rather—someone.

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought away.

This was what she wanted.

She was moving forward.

Even if it meant leaving some things behind.

The hospital was as busy as ever, with nurses and doctors moving in and out of patient rooms, but today, Yoona barely heard the usual hum of activity around her.

Not when the words were still ringing in her ears.

“She’s really going, huh?”

“I heard the food critic already started the arrangements.”

“Good for her. A restaurant in Seoul… She deserves it.”

Yoona kept her face neutral, listening as the nurses gossiped near the front desk. She was organizing some paperwork, pretending to be uninterested.

“She’s so talented,” one of the older nurses continued. “Honestly, I always thought she was too good for a small-town restaurant.”

“Yeah, but it’s still kind of sad,” another nurse added. “Sol’s Table is part of this town. It won’t be the same without her.”

Yoona flipped a page, keeping her expression unreadable.

Jinsol is leaving.

She knew it already, of course. Jinsol had basically confirmed it during their conversation by the ocean. But hearing it like this—so casual, so final—made her stomach twist.

“Dr. Seol, are you okay?”

Yoona blinked. She had been staring at the same document for too long, her pen hovering over the paper without moving.

She looked up to find Nurse Kyujin watching her with curiosity, her lips curled in a knowing smirk.

“Of course,” Yoona said smoothly, adjusting the papers in her hands. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kyujin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. You just look… stunned.”

Yoona let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “I’m just busy.”

“Right.” Kyujin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she exchanged a glance with another nurse before lowering her voice playfully. “You know… everyone always thought you and Jinsol had a thing.”

Yoona’s grip on the pen tightened. “That’s ridiculous.”

Kyujin grinned. “If you say so.”

The conversation moved on, the nurses returning to their work, but Yoona felt an uncomfortable weight settle in her chest.

She shouldn’t feel like this.

She shouldn’t feel anything about Jinsol leaving.

It’s not like she had a right to.

She had been the one to tell Jinsol to go. She had even said it like it was nothing.

So why did it feel like something?

Why did it feel like something heavy—something she wasn’t ready to deal with?

Yoona let out a slow breath, pushing the thoughts away.

It didn’t matter.

She had no reason to stop her.

She had no reason to care.

Right?

—

Jinsol stood in front of Sol’s Table, staring up at the sign that had meant everything to her for years.

The decision had been made.

She wasn’t going to close it down completely. The town had given her so much—her first customers, her best memories, and a place to grow. She couldn’t just take it all away.

Instead, she found someone she trusted to take over. A former sous-chef from a neighboring town, someone with skill and passion. The recipes would stay the same. The warmth of the place would remain.

Sol’s Table would still be here.

Just without Sol.

Jiwoo leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as she watched Jinsol. “So, this is really happening.”

Jinsol let out a small breath. “Yeah.”

“I still think you should reconsider.” Jiwoo smirked, but there was something softer in her voice. “I mean, come on, do you really wanna be a city girl?”

Jinsol chuckled. “I want to see what’s out there.”

Jiwoo hummed. “And what about what’s here?”

Jinsol didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked around—at the quiet streets, the familiar buildings, the people passing by who had all, at some point, sat in her restaurant and eaten her food.

She had spent years building something here.

But it wasn’t just about the restaurant.

It was about the people.

And maybe—just maybe—it was about someone in particular.

Jinsol shook the thought away.

“It’ll be fine,” she said instead. “People will get used to it.”

Jiwoo clicked her tongue. “I wasn’t talking about people. I was talking about you.”

Jinsol turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “You worried about me?”

“I just don’t wanna hear you whining when you start missing this place.” Jiwoo grinned before stepping back inside. “Anyway, I got deliveries to do. Try not to get all emotional out there.”

Jinsol exhaled, glancing back at the sign one more time.

This restaurant would stay.

The town would stay.

But she? She was leaving.

And for the first time since making the decision—she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

The streets were quiet. A soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mixing with the lingering aroma of Jinsol’s cooking from earlier. The town was winding down for the night, but for Jinsol, this was the last time she’d be closing Sol’s Table as its chef.

She let the lock click into place, exhaling as she turned the key one final time.

That was it.

She had done it.

The decision had been made. The papers signed. The arrangements settled.

And yet…

Something felt off.

Like she was leaving something behind that she shouldn’t.

She shook the thought away. This was what she wanted. A new chapter. A bigger opportunity. A future that didn’t confine her to this small town, no matter how much of her heart was embedded in it.

She needed to leave.

Then—

“Jinsol!”

The voice cut through the quiet night, breathless and urgent.

Jinsol froze.

She knew that voice. She had spent weeks pretending she didn’t notice its absence in her restaurant, her life.

Turning slowly, she saw Yoona standing at the end of the street, chest rising and falling like she had been running. She wasn’t in her doctor’s coat—just a simple sweater and jeans, but something about the way she looked, slightly disheveled and desperate, made Jinsol’s throat tighten.

She had prepared for this moment.

Prepared to leave without expecting anything.

But she hadn’t prepared for this.

“…What are you doing here?” Jinsol asked, gripping the restaurant keys tightly.

Yoona swallowed before stepping closer, her eyes searching Jinsol’s face. “You’re really leaving.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jinsol let out a slow breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

Yoona stared at her, lips parted slightly like she had more to say, but the words didn’t come right away.

“So that’s it?” she finally said, voice quieter this time.

Jinsol’s jaw tightened. “You told me to go.”

“I know,” Yoona admitted, her hands clenching at her sides. “I did. But—” She let out a short, frustrated sigh. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

Jinsol felt something stir in her chest, something dangerous and unspoken. But she forced herself to stay composed, to act like this wasn’t affecting her.

“How does it feel, then?” she asked, her voice quieter than before.

Yoona hesitated. Then, almost too softly, she said, “Like something’s missing.”

The words hit deeper than they should have.

Jinsol wasn’t sure what to say. What could she say?

Yoona had spent the last month with Park Jihoon, smiling and laughing with him, going to different places with him. It had been easy to assume she had moved on from whatever this was.

So why now?

Why was she standing here, looking like this? Like she had only just realized what she was losing?

Jinsol clenched her jaw, looking away. “You’ll get used to it.”

Yoona’s expression shifted—like she had been expecting a different response. “That’s not what I—”

Before she could finish, a car honked from the street.

Jinsol’s ride.

The reminder she needed.

She turned back to Yoona, forcing the smallest smile. “I should go.”

Yoona stared at her, her mouth opening slightly like she wanted to protest.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stepped back, nodding stiffly. “Yeah. Right.”

Jinsol lingered for only a second before walking past her.

Not looking back.

Because if she did—if she met Yoona’s eyes one more time—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave.

And she had to leave.

Didn’t she?

The night air was cool against Jinsol’s skin as she stepped past Yoona, her footsteps steady, her grip tight around the strap of her bag. She told herself not to look back.

Not even once.

She had done everything right—made the decision, prepared herself, distanced herself from what she shouldn’t hold onto.

This was what she wanted.

Right?

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the silence between them. The soft hum of the streetlights buzzed in the background.

Jinsol was almost at the car when—

“…I don’t want you to go.”

It was barely above a whisper. So soft, so quiet, that it could have been swallowed by the wind.

Jinsol’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second.

But she didn’t turn around.

She couldn’t.

She forced herself forward, gripping the car door handle, sliding into the seat without hesitation. The driver asked if she was ready, and she only nodded, staring straight ahead.

As the car pulled away, Jinsol kept her gaze fixed on the road, not daring to glance at the rearview mirror.

She didn’t hear Yoona’s whisper.

She would never know.

But the ache in her chest stayed with her the entire ride.

—

The city was everything Jinsol had expected—and nothing like she had imagined.

Bright lights, towering buildings, and streets that never seemed to sleep. Seoul was fast-paced, exciting, and filled with opportunities she never would have had back in her small coastal town.

And she thrived in it.

Her new restaurant, La Mer, was a masterpiece. A name that reflected the very essence of her craft—the ocean. Unlike the cozy, familiar warmth of her old place, La Mer exuded elegance. Crystal chandeliers cast soft light over sleek marble tables, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the skyline. The menu, refined and delicate, was curated for the city’s elite.

And they loved it.

Food critics raved about her seafood dishes, calling them “a taste of the ocean, refined for the city.” Influencers and celebrities made La Mer a trend, filling social media with aesthetic photos of their meals. Reservations became nearly impossible to secure.

Jinsol found herself shaking hands with big names in the culinary world—chefs she had only ever read about, people who had shaped the industry. They spoke to her as an equal now, praising her work, inviting her to events, offering her more opportunities than she could count.

It should have been overwhelming.

But it wasn’t.

She had spent years preparing for this, for the moment when her cooking would reach beyond the small town she had called home.

She should be happy.

And maybe she was.

But there were moments—quiet, fleeting moments—when she felt something was missing.

Late at night, after the kitchen had closed, when the noise of the city finally faded into a hum, she would find herself scrolling through her phone, pausing on photos of her old restaurant.

The wooden tables, the small handwritten menu, the view of the ocean right outside the door. Jiwoo complaining about deliveries taking too long. Her mother dropping by unannounced just to gossip.

And then, there was Yoona.

Jinsol never reached out.

And Yoona never called.

Maybe that was for the best.

Maybe that was how things were meant to be.

She had chosen this life.

And she had no reason to look back.

…Right?

Two years had passed.

Life in the small town remained steady—comforting in its predictability. The ocean waves still greeted Yoona every morning as she walked to the hospital, and the scent of fresh seafood still lingered in the air. She had settled into a peaceful routine, one that she told herself she was happy with.

The hospital had become her second home, and the townspeople—her family. The elderly patients still gossiped, and the nurses still teased her whenever she blushed too easily. Park Jihoon was still around, still making her laugh, still taking her out to try new restaurants. Life was… normal.

And yet, there were moments when the normalcy felt like a weight pressing on her chest.

Especially late at night, when she scrolled through her phone, and Jinsol’s face filled her screen.

It was impossible to avoid. Jinsol’s name had become too big, too well-known. La Mer wasn’t just successful—it was famous. Every major food critic had written about it. High-profile celebrities dined there regularly. The restaurant had made it onto every "must-visit" list for Seoul’s culinary scene.

There were interviews where Jinsol spoke about her journey, about leaving behind a small-town life to chase something greater. She never spoke much about the town itself, never mentioned her old restaurant, or the people she had left behind.

Not once did she mention Yoona.

And why would she?

Jinsol had moved on.

She had built a life in the city, surrounded by success, by people who belonged in that world. She looked happy in every photo, every video, every interview. She had everything she wanted.

Or at least, everything she said she wanted.

Yoona told herself that was all that mattered. That seeing Jinsol happy, thriving, was enough.

But if that was true, then why did she still feel like something was missing?

Jiwoo had caught her more than once, staring too long at an interview clip, or reading a food review about La Mer like it was anything more than just a restaurant.

“You keep looking at her like that, and your phone’s gonna set on fire,” Jiwoo had teased one night, nudging Yoona’s arm as they sat outside the hospital, finishing their coffee.

Yoona had rolled her eyes, locked her phone, and pretended it didn’t mean anything.

But the truth was, she never really stopped looking.

Never really stopped wondering.

And worst of all—never really stopped waiting.

Waiting for what, though?

Jinsol was gone. She had made her choice.

And Yoona had been left behind.

It had been inevitable.

Yoona had known for a long time that her relationship with Jihoon was never meant to last.

If it could even be called a relationship.

She had tried. Truly, she had. She let Jihoon take her out, let him make her laugh, let him stand by her side like something more than a friend. She let people assume things, let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could feel something deeper.

But she never did.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how many dinners they shared, her heart never beat faster for him.

She liked Jihoon.

He was kind, charming, easy to talk to. He knew when to push and when to give her space. He always listened, always cared.

But he wasn’t her person.

And he never would be.

Jihoon had realized it before she did.

One night, after dinner, as they strolled through the quiet streets of town, he had stopped walking, shoved his hands into his pockets, and let out a soft chuckle.

“You don’t love me, do you?”

Yoona froze.

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

She could have lied. Could have said, I’m trying. Could have said, Give me time.

But she was tired of pretending.

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

Jihoon let out a small sigh and looked up at the sky, as if searching for an answer in the stars.

“I figured,” he admitted. “I just… wanted to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jihoon said, shaking his head. “I think I’ve always known. I just thought that maybe, if I stayed by your side long enough, you’d eventually look at me the way you looked at her.”

Yoona’s breath caught in her throat.

Her.

Jinsol.

Jihoon didn’t say the name, but he didn’t have to.

The silence between them stretched, the weight of unspoken truths settling in the air.

“You should go to her, you know,” Jihoon said after a moment, his voice softer now. “Or at least… stop pretending that you don’t want to.”

Yoona looked away. “She’s happy in Seoul.”

“Maybe.” Jihoon tilted his head. “Or maybe she’s just surviving. Just like you.”

Yoona didn’t have an answer for that.

Jihoon smiled, and this time, it wasn’t the teasing, playful smile he always wore—it was something sadder. Something final.

“Let’s stop this, Yoona.” His voice was gentle, not accusing. “Let’s stop pretending.”

Yoona nodded.

And just like that, whatever they had—whatever it was—ended.

But it didn’t feel like a heartbreak.

Because the truth was, her heart had never been Jihoon’s to break.

—

It started as a passing thought.

A harmless curiosity.

At least, that’s what Yoona told herself every time she found her fingers hovering over the search bar, typing in La Mer Seoul just to see what new articles or reviews had popped up.

It was never-ending. Jinsol was everywhere.

Critics praised her for elevating Korean cuisine with fresh, innovative flavors. Customers raved about their once-in-a-lifetime dining experience. Every week, a new celebrity was spotted at La Mer, smiling for a photo with the woman who had once spent her mornings at the fish market, haggling over the best catches of the day.

Jinsol had made it.

She was no longer just the talented chef who ran a cozy seafood restaurant by the ocean.

She was Bae Jinsol—one of Seoul’s most sought-after culinary geniuses.

And yet, no matter how many interviews Yoona read, no matter how many photos she saw, something about it felt… distant.

Like she was watching a life she was never meant to be a part of.

“Are you seriously stalking her again?”

Yoona flinched, quickly locking her phone as Jiwoo slid into the seat across from her.

“I’m not stalking her.”

Jiwoo smirked, crossing her arms. “You totally are.”

Yoona huffed, stabbing her fork into the remnants of her meal. She had come to Sol’s Table out of habit, but even sitting in the restaurant that still carried Jinsol’s name felt different now. The new cook was good—great, even—but it wasn’t the same.

Nothing was the same.

Jiwoo leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “You should just go.”

Yoona blinked. “Go where?”

Jiwoo gave her a pointed look. “Seoul. La Mer. You know, that place you’ve been lowkey obsessed with but refuse to admit it?”

Yoona immediately shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you sitting here, torturing yourself by not going.” Jiwoo grabbed a fry from Yoona’s plate, munching on it as she continued. “Think about it. You haven’t seen Jinsol in two years. She left without a proper goodbye, and you just let her. Don’t you wanna know how she’s doing? See her in person?”

“She’s fine,” Yoona said quickly. “She’s doing amazing, actually.”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’ve seen the interviews too. But that’s not what I meant.”

Yoona stayed quiet.

Of course, she wanted to see Jinsol again.

She wanted to walk into La Mer and watch Jinsol in her element, running her restaurant with the same quiet confidence she always had. She wanted to taste the food that had made Jinsol famous, wanted to hear her voice again—even if it was just to say, Enjoy your meal.

But most of all, she wanted to know if Jinsol had really, truly moved on.

Because no matter how much she told herself that Jinsol belonged in Seoul, that she was happy there…

Yoona needed to see it for herself.

“How about this,” Jiwoo said, breaking the silence. “We make a trip out of it. Just the two of us. A weekend in Seoul. We eat good food, go shopping, have some fun. And if we happen to stop by La Mer… well, that’s just a coincidence, right?”

Yoona narrowed her eyes. “The worst coincidence ever.”

Jiwoo shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s still a good excuse.”

Yoona sighed, tapping her fingers against the table. Every logical part of her brain was telling her this was a bad idea. That she had no reason to go looking for someone who had already left her behind.

But her heart—her stupid, stubborn heart—was saying something else.

“…Fine,” she finally muttered.

Jiwoo grinned. “Hell yeah.”

And just like that, the plan was set.

For the first time in two years—Yoona was going to see Bae Jinsol again.