Chapter 6
The train station was bustling with people, but for Yoona, everything around her blurred into the background. The only thing she could focus on was the warmth still lingering in her hands from where Jinsol had held her. The desperation in Jinsol’s voice, the regret in her eyes—it was all too much.
And yet, she still let her go.
She exhaled shakily, staring at the train tracks as if they held the answers she was looking for. The announcement over the speakers echoed through the air, saying their train would arrive in five minutes.
Five minutes.
And after that, she would be gone. Again.
Beside her, Jiwoo had her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. The silence was too thick, too heavy, and it made her restless. She had spent two years watching these two dance around each other’s feelings, and now that they were finally in front of each other again, they were still being cowards.
It was pissing her off.
“You’re seriously just going to let her leave?” Jiwoo finally said, breaking the silence.
Yoona barely reacted. “Jiwoo…”
“No, I’m serious,” Jiwoo cut her off, stepping in front of her. “After all that? After coming all the way here? You’re just going to leave like this?”
Yoona sighed, gripping the strap of her bag. “It’s not that simple.”
Jiwoo scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re making it complicated on purpose.”
Yoona clenched her jaw but said nothing.
Jiwoo threw her hands up. “You still love her. She obviously still loves you. What’s the problem?”
Yoona flinched at the words. Love.
Did she still love Jinsol?
Yes.
She had always loved her.
But love wasn’t enough, was it?
She inhaled deeply before answering. “Jiwoo… we live in completely different worlds now.”
“So?” Jiwoo challenged. “Since when did that matter?”
Yoona let out a humorless laugh. “Since the day she left.”
Jiwoo groaned loudly. “Oh my god, you’re both so annoying!”
Yoona blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst.
Jiwoo pointed a finger at her. “Let me get this straight. You love Jinsol, but you won’t even try because you’re afraid of how it might turn out?”
Yoona stayed silent.
Jiwoo turned to look in the direction Jinsol had walked away. “And she loves you but is too much of a coward to say it properly, so she runs instead?”
Yoona shifted uncomfortably.
Jiwoo threw her arms up. “What the hell is wrong with you two?! How is this a normal way to act when you love someone?!”
People in the station turned to glance at them, but Jiwoo didn’t care.
She let out a deep breath and rubbed her temples. “You know what? Fine. Be miserable. See if I care.”
Yoona frowned. “Jiwoo—”
“No,” Jiwoo cut her off. “I’m done watching this mess unfold. You both clearly have feelings for each other, but you’re too stubborn to do anything about it.” She huffed. “So, if you’re not gonna fix it yourselves, I will.”
Yoona looked alarmed. “…What?”
Jiwoo smirked and started walking away. “You’ll see.”
Yoona watched her disappear into the crowd, her stomach twisting in anxiety.
She had no idea what Jiwoo was planning, but she had a terrible feeling about it.
Yoona stood in place, stunned, as the taxi carrying Jiwoo—and all of her belongings—disappeared into the distance.
For a moment, she just blinked, processing what had just happened. Jiwoo had stolen her stuff. Her phone, her wallet, her ticket home—all gone.
“…She did not just do that,” Yoona muttered, her voice caught between disbelief and frustration.
Jinsol was standing nearby, watching the whole thing unfold. She cleared her throat. “Uh… what just happened?”
Yoona groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Jiwoo just kidnapped my stuff. All of it.”
Jinsol blinked. “She what?”
“She took my bags, my ticket, my phone—literally everything!” Yoona exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t even have my ID on me.”
Jinsol let out a small, surprised laugh, then quickly covered her mouth when Yoona shot her a glare.
“I’m sorry,” Jinsol said, still fighting a smile. “That’s just… that’s impressive. She really went all in.”
“It’s infuriating,” Yoona corrected, crossing her arms. “I don’t even know where she’s going. I can’t call her. I can’t track her. I literally have nothing on me right now.”
Jinsol hummed thoughtfully. “So… what are you gonna do?”
Yoona opened her mouth, then closed it. Truthfully, she had no idea. She couldn’t get on the train without her ticket. She had no money to book another one. Even if she wanted to report this, she didn’t even have a phone to call the police.
Jiwoo had really backed her into a corner.
Jinsol must have noticed the realization settle in because she tilted her head. “You could… stay with me.”
Yoona’s head snapped up. “What?”
Jinsol shrugged, looking anywhere but at her. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. And I do have a spare room.”
Yoona’s first instinct was to refuse. Staying at Jinsol’s place after everything? That was just asking for trouble.
But what other choice did she have?
She could feel Jinsol’s eyes on her, waiting for an answer.
“…Fine,” Yoona muttered reluctantly.
Jinsol nodded once, as if she had already expected that response. “Let’s go, then.”
They started walking, side by side, neither of them saying much. The air between them felt thick—so much unsaid between them.
Yoona shoved her hands into her coat pockets, glancing sideways at Jinsol. Even after two years, she was still the same. The way she walked, the way she kept her hands in her pockets, the way she avoided eye contact when she wasn’t sure what to say.
Two years ago, Jinsol had let her go without a word.
And now, here they were again.
Yoona swallowed. She didn’t know if she was walking toward a place to stay.
Or walking toward something far more dangerous.
Jiwoo’s plan seemed to be working. Whether Yoona liked it or not, she was now stuck with Jinsol.
And Jinsol was already acting like nothing had changed between them.
“You haven’t eaten?” Jinsol’s voice was sharp, her brows furrowing.
Yoona barely looked at her. “I’m fine.”
Jinsol scoffed. “That’s not what I asked.”
Yoona exhaled slowly, staring at the ground. “No. I haven’t eaten.”
There was silence for a second, but Yoona could feel the weight of Jinsol’s gaze on her. She knew what was coming before Jinsol even opened her mouth.
“You should’ve eaten something before heading to the station,” Jinsol muttered, shaking her head. “What were you thinking?”
Yoona shrugged, uninterested. “I wasn’t thinking about food.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Jinsol snapped. Then, before Yoona could react, she grabbed her wrist and started walking.
Yoona let out an irritated sigh, dragging her feet behind. “Where are we going?”
“To eat.”
“I don’t need—”
“You do.”
Yoona’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t fight it. There was no point. Jinsol was stubborn. Always had been.
They walked in silence, the sound of Seoul’s late-night traffic filling the space between them. The city lights glowed around them, cars whooshing past, distant voices blending into the night. It was a world so different from the small town they had left behind.
Jinsol’s grip on her wrist was firm but not rough. It was steady. Familiar. Annoyingly so.
Yoona kept her gaze ahead, not looking at her.
She didn’t want to talk.
Didn’t want to feel the warmth of Jinsol’s hand against her skin.
Didn’t want to be reminded of all the nights she had stayed up thinking about her.
Didn’t want to acknowledge the way her chest tightened at how easily Jinsol still cared for her, even after everything.
But Jinsol was here. Right beside her. Dragging her along.
And that was the problem.
Yoona bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her thoughts locked away.
She didn’t want to talk.
She didn’t want to feel anything.
She just wanted to go home.
La Mer felt different tonight. Without the clinking of glasses, the murmur of guests, and the soft background music, the restaurant was almost unrecognizable. It was empty, quiet—too quiet.
Yoona hesitated at the entrance, staring at the grand yet dimly lit space. The scent of herbs and spices still lingered in the air, mixed with something uniquely Jinsol. She used to smell like this back in their small town too—like the warmth of a kitchen, like something comforting yet fleeting.
Jinsol didn’t say much as she walked ahead, pulling out a key from her coat pocket and unlocking the heavy door with a soft click. She stepped inside first, leaving the door open for Yoona.
Yoona took her time.
"Why are we here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jinsol glanced over her shoulder. "You need to eat."
Yoona wanted to protest, but she had no energy left for that. She stepped inside, watching as Jinsol flicked on a few lights—only enough to softly illuminate the space, casting long shadows across the empty tables. It was nothing like the usual La Mer. No guests, no expensive laughter, no city noise blending into the background. Just them.
Jinsol locked the door behind them, then disappeared behind the counter.
Yoona swallowed. Her feet felt heavy as she made her way towards the bar, resting her arms on the cool marble. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say.
Jinsol moved around the kitchen without effort, without hesitation. She grabbed ingredients, turned on the stove, set the pan down—movements that were precise, practiced. It was mesmerizing to watch, the way her fingers worked with ease, like she had done this a thousand times before.
Without realizing it, Yoona was staring.
She watched the way Jinsol’s brows furrowed slightly as she focused, the way her lips parted just a little as she concentrated, the way she tasted the broth with a spoon before adjusting the seasoning.
It was just like before.
Just like the old days, back in the small town.
Except it wasn’t.
This was different.
This wasn’t Sol’s Table. This wasn’t the tiny kitchen where they used to laugh over failed recipes, where Jinsol would scold her for cutting her fingers, where Jiwoo would walk in at the worst moments.
This was La Mer.
This was Jinsol’s world now.
And Yoona didn’t belong here.
She exhaled softly, looking away, as if breaking the gaze could erase the thoughts forming in her head.
Jinsol hadn’t looked at her once.
Yoona didn’t know why that bothered her so much.
The sizzling of the pan filled the silence between them. It should have been comfortable, but it wasn’t. It felt heavier than it should.
“You’re staring,” Jinsol finally said, her voice casual but firm.
Yoona blinked.
She hadn’t realized she was still watching.
She quickly straightened, clearing her throat. “I’m just… surprised.”
Jinsol turned slightly, raising a brow. “Surprised?”
Yoona nodded, looking anywhere but at her. “That you’re still doing this. Cooking for someone even when the restaurant’s closed.”
Jinsol didn’t respond immediately.
Then, quietly, she said, “It’s different when it’s for you.”
Yoona froze.
Jinsol didn’t elaborate.
She just turned back to the stove, stirring the pot like she hadn’t just said something that made Yoona’s stomach twist.
Jinsol returned with a dish in her hands, the rich aroma of perfectly cooked seafood filling the empty restaurant. She moved with practiced ease, setting the plate down in front of Yoona before taking a seat across from her. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor echoed in the silence.
Yoona sat stiffly, her hands resting in her lap. She stared at the food for a long moment. It was plated beautifully, just like every dish Jinsol had ever made. There was a quiet care in the way the garnish was placed, in the precise drizzle of sauce over the seafood. It looked perfect. Of course, it did. Jinsol had always been like that. She did things properly, wholeheartedly. Even when it came to something as simple as making dinner for a person she probably resented.
Jinsol picked up a spoon and took a bite of her own food. The act was casual, as if this were just another night at her restaurant. As if this wasn’t the first time they had sat together like this in years. As if nothing had changed.
But everything had.
Yoona let out a slow breath, her fingers curling against her knee.
She picked up her spoon, hesitating for a second before she finally spoke. “I’m sorry.”
Jinsol didn’t look up right away. She continued eating, chewing thoughtfully before finally asking, “For what?”
Yoona swallowed.
For everything. For not speaking up when she should have. For pretending she was fine when she wasn’t. For letting Jihoon become part of her daily life when it was never supposed to be him. For being the last person to know Jinsol was leaving. For acting like it didn’t hurt when it did.
But instead, she only said, “For what I said yesterday.”
Jinsol finally met her gaze. Her expression was unreadable, her dark eyes steady. “You meant it, though.”
Yoona bit the inside of her cheek.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
Jinsol leaned back slightly in her chair, studying her. “You told me to go for it. Like it was nothing.”
Yoona flinched at the words.
Jinsol let out a soft scoff, shaking her head. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“But I—”
“I was the one who left,” Jinsol cut in. Her voice wasn’t cold, but it was firm. “I was the one who didn’t tell you. I was the one who put distance between us first. So if anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
Yoona’s chest tightened.
She had played out so many versions of this conversation in her mind. None of them had prepared her for this.
Jinsol sighed, setting her spoon down on the edge of her plate. “You don’t have to force yourself to eat if you don’t want to.”
Yoona looked down at the dish again.
It was the same one she used to love back at Sol’s Table. She had ordered it countless times, sitting in her usual seat, watching Jinsol move around the kitchen.
But now, it tasted different before she had even taken a bite.
She finally picked up her spoon again, scooping up a small bite and bringing it to her lips.
It was warm. It was familiar.
And it hurt.
She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she set the spoon down.
A doctor’s hands are supposed to be steady. Precise. Unwavering even in the face of pressure.
But this time, Yoona had lost it all.
Her fingers trembled as she gripped the spoon, barely managing to set it down without making a sound. Her hands, the same ones that had stitched wounds, held lives together, and performed delicate procedures, were betraying her now.
Jinsol noticed.
She wasn’t oblivious—not to Yoona, at least. Her eyes flickered to Yoona’s hands, then back to her face. She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she reached out and pushed a glass of water toward her.
“Drink.” Her voice was quieter now, less sharp than before.
Yoona hesitated. Her pride told her to refuse, but her throat was dry. She took the glass and drank slowly, trying to steady herself.
Jinsol watched her in silence, but Yoona could feel the weight of her gaze. It was the same way Jinsol always looked at her—like she could see through everything Yoona tried to hide.
Yoona placed the glass back down, her fingers still slightly curled around it.
“I don’t know why I came here,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Jinsol exhaled, leaning forward slightly. “Because Jiwoo stole your stuff.”
Yoona almost let out a bitter laugh.
It was true. But at the same time, it wasn’t.
Jiwoo might have been the reason she was physically here, but deep down, Yoona knew she would have found a way back eventually. Whether it was today, or another day, or years from now—she would have always ended up standing in front of Jinsol again.
And maybe that was what scared her the most.
She lowered her gaze to the table. “I thought I moved on.”
Jinsol’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers curled slightly against the surface of the table. “Did you?”
Yoona’s lips parted, but no answer came.
Because she didn’t know.
Or maybe—she did.
And maybe that was why her hands weren’t steady anymore.
The tension in La Mer was suffocating, thick like the air before a storm. The restaurant, usually lively and buzzing with conversation, now felt like a hollow shell of itself—just dim lighting, the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the weight of words left unsaid.
Yoona stood there, her fingers curled into her palms, nails pressing into her skin. She was exhausted—mentally, physically—but more than that, she was frustrated. Frustrated at Jiwoo, at herself, and most of all, at Jinsol.
“What do you want from me?” Yoona finally asked, her voice strained.
Jinsol scoffed, crossing her arms. “Are you serious?”
Yoona let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”
Jinsol’s eyes darkened. “You’re the one who showed up at my restaurant. You’re the one who kept staring at me like I was someone you used to know. You’re the one who left two years ago and decided to move on. And now you’re asking me what I want?”
Yoona’s lips parted, but she had nothing to say.
Jinsol let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “You don’t get to do this, Yoona.”
“Do what?” Yoona shot back. “Ask questions? Want answers? Am I supposed to just sit here and take it while you act like—like none of this even matters to you?”
“None of this—?” Jinsol took a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call you?”
Yoona flinched.
Jinsol’s voice lowered, but the intensity didn’t waver. “Do you know how many times I wanted to walk back into that town just to see if you were still there? To see if you were happy?”
Yoona looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
“I thought about you every damn day, Yoona,” Jinsol confessed, her voice raw. “And you know what hurt the most? The fact that I knew I wasn’t the one you were thinking about.”
Yoona’s breath caught.
“You had Jihoon,” Jinsol continued, forcing the words out. “You looked happy with him. You had someone who fit your life, who fit that town. And I had no place there anymore.”
Yoona let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “You really think Jihoon was the reason?”
Jinsol didn’t answer.
Yoona shook her head, stepping closer. “I never loved him, Jinsol.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Not the way I—” She stopped herself. Took a shaky breath. “He was safe. That’s all.”
Jinsol’s fingers twitched. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Yoona looked at her, pained. “Would it have changed anything?”
Jinsol’s silence spoke louder than any words could.
Yoona’s hands trembled again, a habit she never used to have. A doctor’s hands were supposed to be steady, reliable. But right now, in front of Jinsol, she had lost all control.
Jinsol noticed. And it broke something inside her.
“You’re shaking,” Jinsol murmured.
Yoona let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah.”
Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.
Then, finally, Jinsol whispered, “What are we doing, Yoona?”
Yoona clenched her jaw. “I don’t know.”
Jinsol swallowed hard. “I don’t know either.”
And maybe, that was the real problem.
Yoona sat with her hands clasped together on the table, her knuckles pale from how tightly she held them. She hadn’t even touched the dish Jinsol had prepared for her. She had been staring at it for what felt like forever, her mind too tangled with thoughts to even think about eating.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said.
Jinsol stood a few feet away, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly. “You already said that.”
Yoona nodded. “I know.”
The silence stretched between them again, and Yoona hated it. She hated how unfamiliar it felt. Two years ago, silence between them had never been this heavy. It had been comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. But now, it was suffocating.
“I’m sorry,” Yoona said again, her voice quieter this time.
Jinsol’s fingers twitched against her arm. “Yoona.”
Yoona flinched slightly at the way her name left Jinsol’s lips—low, strained, and filled with something unreadable.
“I can’t stop apologizing,” Yoona admitted, voice trembling. “Because I don’t know what else to say.”
Jinsol let out a sharp breath, her patience wearing thin. “Then don’t say anything.”
Yoona’s lips parted slightly in surprise. She wasn’t expecting that.
Jinsol shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “What do you even want from me, Yoona?”
Yoona swallowed hard, looking down at her lap. “I don’t know.”
Jinsol let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Yoona clenched her fists. “I should have told you how I felt. I should have stayed. I should have—”
“Then why didn’t you?” Jinsol cut in, voice sharper than before.
Yoona felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Jinsol took a step forward, her brows furrowed. “Tell me, Yoona. Tell me why.”
Yoona took a shaky breath. “Because I was scared.”
Jinsol’s expression faltered for a split second before she quickly masked it with indifference. “Scared of what?”
Yoona’s throat tightened. “Of losing you.”
Jinsol froze.
“I thought if I let you go first, if I convinced myself that I didn’t care, that it wouldn’t hurt as much when you left,” Yoona admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But it still hurt. It still hurts, Jinsol.”
Jinsol’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything.
Yoona looked up, eyes pleading. “Didn’t it hurt for you too?”
Jinsol’s jaw tightened. “What do you want me to say, Yoona? That I spent nights thinking about you? That I hated myself for leaving? That I—” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Yoona’s breath hitched.
Jinsol ran a hand down her face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”
Yoona exhaled shakily. “I don’t either.”
The restaurant felt colder than before.
Then, softly, almost too softly, Yoona whispered, “But I’m still sorry.”
Jinsol’s eyes fluttered shut. She had spent years telling herself she was over this—over her. But hearing those words again, seeing Yoona sitting there, looking like she was seconds away from breaking apart, made it hard to pretend.
And for the first time in a long time, Jinsol didn’t know if she could handle hearing those words again.
Jinsol had always been confident in the kitchen. She knew how to handle the heat, the pressure, the sharp knives, and the endless hours. But standing here, holding Yoona’s hand, she felt more unsteady than she had in years.
She had spent so long trying to convince herself that moving forward meant moving away. From the town, from her old life, and especially from Yoona. She told herself that success required sacrifice, that she had made the right choice. But now, looking at Yoona—really looking at her, tired but still so beautiful, sitting in La Mer with an uneaten plate of food between them—Jinsol wondered if she had been wrong all along.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they pressed against Yoona’s palm. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else, something deeper. "Could we try?" she asked, voice softer than she intended.
Yoona stiffened slightly. She had spent the last two years trying to move on, telling herself that Jinsol had made her choice. And now here she was, hearing the words she had once hoped for but had long since given up on.
Jinsol’s grip tightened just a little. "I don’t know how to do this," she admitted, her voice rough around the edges. "I don’t know if it’ll work. I don’t even know if I deserve to ask." Her breath was shaky, but she pushed through it.
"But if there’s even a chance, if we could just—" She exhaled, searching for the right words. "Try?"
Yoona stared down at their joined hands. It had been so long since they had touched like this—since they had touched at all. Her own hands had always been steady, trained through years of delicate surgeries and precise movements. But now, her fingers trembled, just slightly.
She thought about how much she had resented Jinsol for leaving. How much she had tried to forget her. How much it had hurt.
But she also thought about how, even after two years, she had still come to La Mer. How she had still sought out Jinsol, still wanted to see her, even if she told herself it was for closure.
Could they really try?
She exhaled softly, almost shakily, before curling her fingers around Jinsol’s. It wasn’t much, but it was an answer.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Let’s try."
For the first time in years, they weren’t running away from each other.
Jinsol let out a deep breath, her fingers hesitating before gently tucking a strand of Yoona’s hair behind her ear. The touch was soft, lingering just a second too long.
"I’m sorry," she murmured, her voice quieter than before. It wasn’t just for tonight. It was for everything—the distance, the unspoken words, the years apart.
Yoona blinked, her lips parting slightly, but she said nothing.
Jinsol gave a small, almost hesitant smile. "You should eat, princess."
Yoona’s heart stuttered at the nickname. It had been so long since she heard Jinsol say it—so long since she had felt that warmth in her voice.
She looked down at the plate in front of her. The food was probably cold by now, but that wasn’t the reason she hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she could swallow past the knot in her throat.
Jinsol noticed, and with a gentle nudge, she slid the fork closer to Yoona’s hand. "Come on," she coaxed, her tone softer, gentler. "I made it for you."
Yoona swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the fork. She didn’t look up, but she could feel Jinsol’s gaze on her, warm and steady.
She took a small bite. It wasn’t much, but Jinsol’s smile widened just a little.
And for the first time in a long time, the space between them didn’t feel so impossible.
The silence between them stretched, but Jinsol didn’t let it linger for too long. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her eyes flickering toward Yoona as she took another hesitant bite.
“So?” Jinsol asked, tilting her head. “Still the best thing you’ve ever eaten, or have you found another chef to take my place?”
Yoona paused mid-bite, blinking. She chewed slowly, swallowed, and then set her fork down. “It’s good,” she said simply, her voice quiet.
Jinsol huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “That’s it? Just ‘good’? You used to ramble about my food, you know.”
Yoona didn’t respond right away. She toyed with the edge of her napkin, eyes lowered. It wasn’t that the food wasn’t amazing—it was. Every bite carried that same warmth, that same unmistakable taste of Jinsol’s cooking. But everything else felt different now.
Jinsol noticed. She could read Yoona like a book, always had been able to.
She exhaled, leaning back. “Alright, fine,” she said, her tone lighter, teasing. “Maybe your taste buds have changed. Maybe you’ve been eating too much hospital food.”
Yoona’s lips twitched, but the small hint of a smile disappeared as quickly as it came. She shook her head. “I eat well.”
Jinsol scoffed. “You didn’t eat at all before coming here.”
Yoona didn’t deny it.
Jinsol clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You never take care of yourself.”
The words weren’t scolding—not really. There was a softness in them, a familiarity, like she had said them a hundred times before. And maybe she had.
Yoona sighed, finally lifting her gaze. “I take care of my patients first,” she murmured.
Jinsol’s expression softened. “I know,” she said quietly.
A moment of silence passed again, but this time, it didn’t feel as heavy.
Jinsol glanced at Yoona’s plate. “Eat a little more,” she said, almost like a request.
Yoona hesitated, then picked up her fork again. She took another bite, slower this time.
Jinsol watched her, her fingers lightly tapping against the table. She wanted to say something more, but she wasn’t sure if Yoona was ready for it yet.
So instead, she let the quiet settle between them, filling the space with nothing but the sound of the city outside and the distant hum of the restaurant’s lights.
It wasn’t much. But at least, for now, Yoona was here. And Jinsol wasn’t letting go.
The night air was crisp but not unbearably cold. It carried with it the distant scent of street food and the faint saltiness of the ocean from the other side of the city. The neon lights reflected against the wet pavement, stretching their colors along the sidewalk as Yoona and Jinsol walked side by side.
Neither of them spoke much. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly easy either. It was filled with thoughts neither of them could voice, memories neither of them had fully sorted through, and emotions they were both still trying to understand.
Yoona had her hands tucked into her coat pockets, her posture slightly rigid despite the slow pace of their walk. Jinsol, on the other hand, had her hands free, occasionally rubbing them together for warmth. She kept glancing at Yoona from the corner of her eye, taking in the way the streetlights illuminated her face in fleeting moments.
Then, as they turned a quiet corner, it happened.
A small, fleeting touch.
Their hands brushed against each other, just barely. The touch was so light that it could have been dismissed as an accident, but Jinsol noticed the way Yoona subtly flinched—just for a second—before steadying herself again.
Jinsol swallowed.
She let her hand swing just a little closer again, as if testing the waters. This time, their fingers barely grazed, the warmth of Yoona’s skin sending a strange jolt through her. She wondered if Yoona felt it too.
Yoona didn’t look at her, but she didn’t pull away either.
Jinsol hesitated for only a moment before taking the chance. Slowly, carefully, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Yoona’s knuckles before slipping around them. It was a hesitant touch at first, her grip light enough to let Yoona pull away if she wanted to.
But Yoona didn’t.
Her hand remained still, her fingers slightly cold against Jinsol’s warmth. A soft exhale left her lips, and for the first time that night, her shoulders relaxed just a little.
Jinsol took that as permission.
She gently curled her fingers around Yoona’s hand, securing their hold together in a way that felt strangely right. The moment their fingers intertwined fully, Jinsol felt her heart stutter, as if it had just now realized the weight of what she had done.
They kept walking, their steps now unconsciously matching in pace.
Yoona still didn’t look at her, but her fingers tightened ever so slightly around Jinsol’s. It was the smallest response, but it sent warmth rushing through Jinsol’s chest.
A slow smile crept onto her lips, but she didn’t say anything.
Neither of them did.
The world around them continued—cars passed by, pedestrians laughed in the distance, and neon signs flickered overhead. But in this small moment, all of it faded into the background.
Because for the first time in two years, Jinsol was holding Yoona’s hand again.
And Yoona was holding hers back.
The moment Jinsol pushed open the door to her apartment, a warm, inviting scent greeted them—something rich, slightly woody, and subtly sweet. It was the kind of fragrance that lingered, making the space feel lived-in yet refined. Yoona stepped inside hesitantly, her eyes wandering as she took in her surroundings.
She hadn’t expected this.
The apartment was stunning.
Large floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side, revealing the dazzling skyline of Seoul. The city lights twinkled like stars, casting a soft glow into the space. From up here, the world felt distant, quieter, as if this place existed in its own little pocket of peace above the bustling streets below.
Yoona’s gaze swept across the room. The interior was modern but warm, decorated with sleek furniture, neutral tones, and subtle hints of deep green from the plants scattered around. A shelf lined with cookbooks and a few framed photographs sat near the open-concept kitchen. The dark wood flooring complemented the cream-colored walls, and soft ambient lighting made everything feel calm.
She hadn’t realized she was staring until Jinsol chuckled softly, closing the door behind them.
"Surprised?" Jinsol asked, slipping off her jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.
Yoona blinked, still taking it all in. "I didn’t think… it’d be like this."
"Like what?"
Yoona exhaled, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the hem of her coat. "So… nice."
Jinsol smirked. "Did you think I was living in some cramped studio with stacks of dirty dishes?"
Yoona gave her a sideways glance but said nothing. Jinsol took it as confirmation.
"I like my space clean," Jinsol added with a shrug, walking toward the kitchen. "And I like things that smell good."
Yoona nodded absently, still a little stunned. This wasn’t just some temporary place—this was a home. A place Jinsol had built for herself. A place where she belonged.
And for some reason, that realization made something ache deep in Yoona’s chest.
She turned toward the windows again, stepping closer. The view was breathtaking. From here, the city looked endless, stretching far beyond what the eye could see. She had lived in Seoul for years before moving to the small town, but she had never seen it like this.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Jinsol’s voice was quieter now, closer.
Yoona didn't turn around. "Yeah…"
She wasn’t sure if she was talking about the view or something else.
As Yoona continued gazing out the window, lost in thought, Jinsol stood just behind her, watching her reflection in the glass. The soft city lights illuminated Yoona’s face, her expression unreadable yet familiar. It made Jinsol's heart ache in a way she wasn’t sure how to describe.
Before she could stop herself, the words slipped out—quiet, almost like a thought spoken aloud.
“It’d be better if you stayed here… lived with me.”
Yoona blinked, turning her head slightly. “What?”
Jinsol's breath hitched. She hadn’t meant for Yoona to hear that. Or maybe she had. But now, faced with Yoona’s questioning eyes, she hesitated.
"Nothing," she said quickly, shaking her head as she moved toward the kitchen. "Forget it."
But Yoona didn’t.
She stared at Jinsol’s retreating figure, something unfamiliar stirring inside her. She had heard it—maybe not entirely, maybe not clearly—but enough to know what Jinsol had just said. Enough to make her chest tighten.
Jinsol busied herself with the refrigerator, avoiding Yoona’s gaze. “Are you thirsty? I have juice. Or water. Or—”
Yoona didn’t press further right away. Instead, she let the silence settle between them, her gaze drifting back to the breathtaking view of the city. It was different from the one back home—the ocean was replaced by towering skyscrapers, the air thick with the glow of neon signs and endless car headlights. Seoul was dazzling, overwhelming even, but there was a loneliness to it too.
She finally turned back to Jinsol, who was still at the refrigerator, her back turned as she pulled out a bottle of water. The tension in her posture was clear, the way her fingers gripped the handle just a little too tightly.
“You said something just now,” Yoona repeated, softer this time, almost as if she was giving Jinsol the space to take it back.
Jinsol didn’t move right away. She let out a small breath, one that Yoona barely caught over the quiet hum of the fridge. Then, as if deciding something, she finally turned around.
“It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head, forcing a smile. “I was just—thinking out loud.”
Yoona didn’t believe that. Jinsol’s words had been too deliberate, too full of meaning, to be just a passing thought. But she wasn’t sure what to say to it, wasn’t sure how to respond.
Jinsol pushed a glass of water toward her. “Drink.”
Yoona took it, but she didn’t drink right away. Instead, she looked down at the water, as if it could somehow give her answers.
“…Would it really be better?” she asked after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jinsol tensed, caught off guard.
Yoona finally lifted her gaze, searching Jinsol’s face for something—anything.
“If I stayed here. Lived with you.”
Jinsol opened her mouth, then closed it. She wanted to say yes. God, she wanted to say yes more than anything. But she hesitated, because wanting something and making it work were two different things.
“Yoona…” Jinsol exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “You—your whole life is back there. The hospital, the people—”
“And yours is here,” Yoona interrupted, her grip tightening around the glass. “That’s why it wouldn’t work.”
Jinsol’s throat tightened. She hated how Yoona said it like it was final. Like they weren’t allowed to want more.
Yoona let out a small, humorless laugh. “Why did you even say that, then?”
Jinsol lowered her gaze, struggling for words. “Because I meant it.”
The answer was so simple, so raw, that it left Yoona speechless.
Jinsol stepped forward, closing the distance between them just slightly. “I didn’t say it to make things complicated. I just… it’s something I think about.”
Yoona swallowed hard. “You think about us?”
Jinsol let out a quiet laugh, one filled with something Yoona couldn’t quite place.
“Every damn day.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words, lingering feelings neither of them had the courage to voice fully.
Yoona looked down at the water again, her reflection staring back at her. A part of her wanted to put the glass down, reach for Jinsol, and tell her she had thought about it too. That she missed her. That the past two years had felt like something was missing.
But she couldn’t.
Instead, she took a small sip of water, letting it cool the heat rising in her chest.
“…I should sleep,” she murmured, barely glancing at Jinsol before turning away.
Jinsol didn’t stop her. But she didn’t move either, watching as Yoona disappeared into the guest room, leaving behind only the quiet sound of her footsteps and the faintest scent of her lingering presence.
And when the door clicked shut, Jinsol finally let herself exhale, pressing a hand against her chest where her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
Jinsol leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, waiting. She had already knocked twice, but there was still no movement from inside. Just as she was about to call Yoona’s name, the door cracked open slightly, revealing a half-asleep Yoona, hair messily falling over her face.
“…What?” Yoona mumbled, rubbing one eye with the sleeve of the oversized sweater she must have borrowed from Jinsol’s closet.
Jinsol bit back a smile. “It’s morning. You should eat.”
Yoona blinked at her, still looking dazed. “Already?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep, and it made something in Jinsol’s chest tighten.
“Yeah, princess. It’s almost noon,” Jinsol teased.
Yoona frowned, still too groggy to react properly to the nickname. She yawned, stretching her arms above her head before leaning against the doorframe. “You woke me up just for that?”
Jinsol scoffed. “I didn’t think you’d sleep forever. Besides, Jiwoo isn’t here to force-feed you.”
That earned a weak glare from Yoona, but it lacked any real heat.
Jinsol stepped back, giving her space. “Come on. I made breakfast.”
Yoona hesitated, but her stomach growled before she could say anything.
Jinsol smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Yoona sighed in defeat and finally stepped out, following Jinsol to the kitchen. The apartment was filled with the warm scent of food—eggs, freshly toasted bread, and something else Yoona couldn’t quite place.
Jinsol had already set the table, a simple yet comforting spread waiting for them. Yoona sat down slowly, still blinking sleep from her eyes.
Jinsol poured her a cup of tea and slid it toward her. “Drink. You look like you need it.”
Yoona hummed in response, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She watched as Jinsol sat across from her, effortlessly casual, as if last night hadn’t happened.
The thought made Yoona’s stomach twist. She wanted to ask if Jinsol had thought about their conversation, but she didn’t know if she was ready for the answer.
Instead, she took a sip of tea and mumbled, “…Thanks for waking me up.”
Jinsol raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s a first.”
Yoona rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The morning sun streamed through the large windows, casting soft light over them. It was quiet, peaceful—even if neither of them knew what came next.
Yoona slowly set her cup down and glanced at Jinsol, who was casually eating, looking relaxed in her own home. After a brief pause, she asked, “Are you going to work today?”
Jinsol looked up from her plate, chewing thoughtfully before shrugging. “I don’t know.”
That answer surprised Yoona. “You don’t know?”
Jinsol smirked. “I’m the owner, princess. I can take a day off if I want.”
Yoona stared at her, not sure what to say to that. It wasn’t like the Jinsol she knew. Back then, she never took a break, always working in her little restaurant, always making sure things were perfect. But now, she had the choice.
“So you’re not going?” Yoona asked, testing her.
Jinsol leaned back in her chair, looking at Yoona with a lazy smile. “Do you want me to go?”
Yoona looked away, fiddling with the handle of her cup. “It’s your restaurant. Your life.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jinsol said, resting her chin on her palm as she watched Yoona closely.
Yoona sighed, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just… I haven’t seen you in a long time. And I feel like if you leave now, I won’t see you again today.”
Jinsol didn’t respond right away. Instead, she took another sip of tea, as if thinking. Then, after a few moments, she put her cup down and said, “Then I’ll stay.”
Yoona looked at her, surprised. “Just like that?”
Jinsol smirked. “Just like that.”
Yoona frowned slightly, stirring her tea even though she wasn’t really drinking it. “Aren’t you busy? La Mer is always packed. You have staff waiting for you, don’t you?”
Jinsol tilted her head, watching Yoona with a lazy grin. “You sound more worried about my business than I am.”
Yoona pursed her lips, not knowing how to respond. Maybe she was. Maybe it was easier to focus on something else rather than deal with everything that still felt heavy between them.
Jinsol exhaled through her nose, then stood up and stretched. “It’s fine. The restaurant will survive a day without me.”
Yoona raised a brow. “And what about all those people who keep trying to impress you? The reporters, the influencers, the ones who want to ‘get to know’ the famous Bae Jinsol?” Her tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something even Yoona wasn’t sure of.
Jinsol chuckled, walking over to the kitchen counter to grab a glass of water. “You jealous, doctor?”
Yoona scoffed, shaking her head. “Not even a little.”
Jinsol smirked as she took a sip. “Mm-hmm.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, filled only by the distant hum of the city outside. Yoona glanced around the apartment again, taking in the soft, modern touches—the warm lighting, the perfectly arranged furniture, the large windows overlooking the skyline. It was nothing like Jinsol’s old home in the small town. This place felt… different.
“I never imagined you’d live somewhere like this,” Yoona admitted softly.
Jinsol turned to look at her, setting her glass down. “Why not?”
Yoona shrugged, eyes drifting to the skyline outside. “I guess… I always thought of you with the ocean. With the sound of waves, the scent of salt in the air. Not… here.”
Jinsol was quiet for a moment. Then, with a small smile, she murmured, “Me too.”
Yoona turned her head to her, surprised. Jinsol was staring out the window, her expression unreadable.
“But this is my life now,” Jinsol continued, her voice quieter. “And I’ve worked too hard to regret it.”
Yoona bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to ask, Do you really not regret anything? But she held back. Instead, she sighed, resting her chin in her palm.
“So what are you going to do with your day off, then?” she asked, forcing a lighter tone.
Jinsol grinned, turning back to her. “Spend it with you, obviously.”
Yoona rolled her eyes, but there was a small tug at her lips. “You sound so sure of that.”
Jinsol shrugged. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”
There was something about the way she said it—so easy, so natural—that made Yoona’s chest feel tight. She lowered her gaze, staring into her tea.
“Well…” she said softly. “I guess I have nowhere else to be either.”
Jinsol’s expression softened. “Then it’s settled.”
And just like that, they had a whole day ahead of them.
—
Jiwoo stretched her arms as she lounged on the couch of her friend’s apartment, a satisfied grin on her face. “Mission accomplished,” she mumbled to herself before taking a sip of the iced coffee she had picked up earlier.
Her friend, Haneul, raised an eyebrow from the other side of the room. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot since you got here. What did you do?”
Jiwoo snickered. “Oh, nothing much. Just left two idiots alone with no choice but to actually face their feelings.”
Haneul gave her a look. “Please don’t tell me you kidnapped someone.”
Jiwoo laughed. “Of course not. I just… borrowed some belongings. Temporarily.”
Haneul narrowed her eyes. “You stole someone’s luggage?”
Jiwoo waved her off. “Not stole. More like… relocated. Yoona will get her stuff back. Eventually.”
Haneul groaned, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Jiwoo only shrugged, sipping her coffee. She had done all she could. Now, it was up to Yoona and Jinsol. If they couldn’t figure things out after being forced to stay together for a few days, then they were hopeless.
For now, she had no plans—just strolling around the city, visiting places she hadn’t seen, and spending time with Haneul. She had done her part.
Now it was time for fate to take over.