Chapter 7
Yoona stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the oversized shirt she had borrowed from Jinsol’s closet. The scent was strong—clean, warm, and distinctly her. A mix of fresh linen and a hint of something deeper, something that reminded her of home.
She sighed, running her fingers over the fabric. It was too big on her, the sleeves falling past her wrists, the hem reaching mid-thigh. But instead of feeling strange, it felt… comforting. Safe.
A knock on the door. “Yoona, you coming out, or are you planning to hide all day?” Jinsol’s voice carried through, light yet teasing.
Yoona took a deep breath before stepping out.
Jinsol, who had been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, straightened the moment she saw her. Her gaze flickered over Yoona just briefly before she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck.
“What?” Yoona asked, tilting her head.
Jinsol shrugged. “Nothing. Just… it suits you.”
Yoona hummed in response, walking past her. The faint scent of Jinsol’s cologne still clung to the fabric, and without thinking, she muttered, “It smells like you.”
Jinsol blinked, turning to look at her.
Yoona didn’t meet her eyes, too busy pretending it was just an observation and not something that made her feel things she wasn’t ready to admit.
Jinsol exhaled a quiet chuckle and muttered under her breath, “You’re dangerous.”
Yoona frowned. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing.” Jinsol smirked, walking ahead. “Come on, let’s go out.”
At the parking lot, Yoona watched as Jinsol casually walked past several cars, her keys spinning around her fingers. Without needing to ask, Yoona simply followed, wondering which one they were taking today. Jinsol had a few cars—most of them practical, sleek, and suited for her busy life. But when she stopped in front of a particular vehicle, Yoona’s eyes widened.
A classic convertible. The deep midnight blue paint gleamed under the sunlight, polished to perfection. It was the kind of car that turned heads, the kind that people only took out on special occasions.
“You drive this?” Yoona asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
Jinsol shrugged, unlocking the doors. “Rarely. It’s not exactly ideal for daily commutes. But today feels like a good day for it.”
She slid into the driver’s seat, while Yoona hesitated for a second before getting in. The leather seats were smooth and cool against her skin. The interior smelled faintly of aged leather, expensive cologne, and something uniquely Jinsol.
Yoona ran her fingers over the dashboard, admiring the details. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to own a car like this.”
Jinsol smirked, starting the engine. It roared to life, a deep, satisfying sound that sent a slight thrill down Yoona’s spine.
“I have my moments,” Jinsol said, tilting her sunglasses down slightly to glance at Yoona before pushing them back up. “Buckle up, princess. We’re going for a ride.”
The wind tousled their hair as Jinsol pulled out of the parking lot, the cityscape stretching out before them. Yoona leaned back against the seat, glancing at Jinsol, who looked completely at ease behind the wheel.
She couldn’t help but think—this felt different. Like a moment suspended in time. Like something that shouldn’t feel this natural, but did.
The sun was high, drenching the city in a golden glow as Jinsol maneuvered the classic convertible through the streets. The engine purred smoothly, the warm breeze slipping past them, ruffling their hair. Jinsol had one hand draped over the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, fingers tapping lazily. The rolled-up sleeves of her crisp white shirt exposed her toned forearms, and her dark sunglasses added an effortless charm to her already relaxed demeanor.
Yoona, sitting in the passenger seat, pulled her borrowed shirt a little closer around her. The scent of Jinsol’s cologne was still strong on the fabric, a mix of something woody and fresh, like cedar and citrus. She glanced at Jinsol from the corner of her eye—she looked like she belonged in this car, in this moment. The way she moved, the way the light caught her profile, the way she shifted gears with such ease—it was almost cinematic.
The city around them felt alive. The streets were lined with tall buildings and storefronts, people walking briskly, couples laughing at sidewalk cafés. Every now and then, a group of office workers in suits strolled past, sleeves rolled up just like Jinsol’s, but none of them carried the same laid-back confidence she did.
Jinsol suddenly smirked, her voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “You keep staring, doc. If there’s something on my face, just say it.”
Yoona quickly turned her head toward the cityscape. “I wasn’t staring.”
Jinsol chuckled, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Sure.” She shifted gears effortlessly, guiding them onto a road that stretched toward the outskirts, where the noise of the city softened. “I thought you might like the ride. Open cars, warm weather—it feels different, right?”
Yoona ran her fingers lightly along the edge of the car door, feeling the cool metal under her fingertips. It did feel different. The city air, the sound of tires rolling over pavement, the occasional hum of traffic blending with the soft music playing from the car’s speakers—it all felt strangely intimate.
She finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “I didn’t think you’d be the type for joyrides in convertibles.”
Jinsol huffed a quiet laugh, tilting her head slightly toward Yoona. “I’m not, usually. But some days call for it.”
The way she said it—like today was special, like this moment was something more—made Yoona’s stomach twist in a way she didn’t expect.
She leaned back, letting her eyes wander to the skyline in the distance. The warmth of the sun on her skin, the scent of Jinsol’s cologne mixing with the breeze, the sound of the city fading behind them—it was all too easy to lose herself in this.
And that realization made her uneasy.
Jinsol pulled the convertible into a quiet street lined with sleek, modern buildings. The sign in front of the building read "La Mer Culinary Institute" in elegant gold lettering. Yoona blinked, taking in the sophisticated entrance—large glass windows, a polished stone walkway, and a subtle but luxurious aesthetic that screamed prestige.
“This…” Yoona murmured, stepping out of the car. “This is—?”
Jinsol slid off her sunglasses, hooking them onto the front of her shirt. “This is what La Mer has become.”
Yoona followed her as they walked inside. The interior was just as breathtaking—high ceilings, warm lighting, a blend of modern and classic design. Behind a glass partition, chefs in crisp uniforms were meticulously plating dishes, their techniques refined and precise. The air smelled of rich, slow-cooked broth, freshly baked bread, and spices Yoona couldn't even name.
“This isn’t just my restaurant anymore,” Jinsol continued, gesturing around. “It’s a place where chefs come to train, where young cooks get a shot at something big. La Mer isn’t just mine—it belongs to everyone who walks through these doors and puts on that uniform.”
Yoona listened carefully, watching Jinsol’s expression. She looked… proud. But there was something else beneath that pride, something deeper.
“When I left our town, I didn’t just want to open a successful restaurant. I wanted to build something that lasts,” Jinsol said, turning to Yoona. “This place… it's my legacy.”
Yoona absorbed every word, every detail around her. This was bigger than she ever imagined. La Mer wasn't just a famous restaurant—it had become a brand, an institution, something much more significant than a place to eat.
Jinsol glanced at Yoona, searching her face for a reaction. “Do you understand now?”
Yoona finally met her gaze. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.”
She did. And for the first time, she realized how much Jinsol had given up, how far she had come. The weight of it settled in her chest—Jinsol had built an empire, but had she ever stopped to ask herself if she was happy?
Yoona let her eyes wander across the beautifully designed space, the quiet hum of dedication filling the air as chefs worked with precision. She turned back to Jinsol, who stood there, watching her reaction carefully.
A slow, genuine smile spread across Yoona’s lips. “You did this,” she said, her voice filled with quiet admiration. “You really built something incredible, Jinsol.”
Jinsol’s posture relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing at Yoona’s words.
“I’m proud of you,” Yoona continued, stepping closer. “And I’m happy for you, Sol. I mean it.”
Jinsol’s breath hitched. She had heard those words from reporters, business partners, even from world-class chefs—but hearing them from Yoona felt different. More real. More personal.
Yoona looked around once more, then back at Jinsol, her eyes warm. “This place… it suits you.”
Jinsol chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Yoona nodded. “You’ve built something that’s not just yours—it’s for everyone. And that’s… amazing.”
For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of the years between them hanging unspoken in the air. Jinsol swallowed, gripping the edge of her sunglasses. She wanted to say something, to ask something, but the words tangled in her throat.
Instead, she exhaled and smiled. “Come on,” she said, nudging Yoona lightly. “There’s more I want to show you.”
Yoona nodded, still smiling, still proud. And as they walked together, she realized that no matter what had happened between them, she truly wanted Jinsol to be happy—even if that happiness wasn’t by her side.
Yoona took a step closer to the framed photograph, her fingers hesitating just above the glass. It was as if touching it would confirm something she wasn’t ready to face. The image before her was frozen in time—Jinsol in her element, sleeves rolled up, apron slightly messy, laughing about something Yoona couldn’t quite remember. And beside her, Yoona herself, caught mid-smile, looking at Jinsol rather than the camera.
She felt her chest tighten.
“You kept this?” Her voice was softer than she intended, nearly lost in the quiet atmosphere of the space.
Jinsol, who had been standing beside her with her hands tucked in her pockets, glanced away for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”
Yoona turned to face her, searching her face for something—an explanation, a deeper meaning. “Why?”
Jinsol let out a small, breathy chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Because it’s part of where I started.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fingers tightening in her pockets. “And… you were part of that.”
Yoona’s breath hitched.
Jinsol didn’t look at her. Instead, she stared at the photo, her voice quieter when she added, “A big part.”
Yoona swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—not after everything that had happened, not after the years they had spent apart. She had convinced herself that Jinsol had moved on effortlessly, that she had carved out a new life with no room for remnants of the past.
But here it was. Proof that Yoona had never really disappeared from Jinsol’s world.
Her eyes flickered over the rest of the wall—so many memories, achievements, milestones. But none of them made her stomach twist quite like this one.
Jinsol exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “It didn’t feel right to leave it out.”
Yoona’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She wasn’t sure what to say.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.
Jinsol finally turned to her, her expression unreadable. “Does it bother you?”
Yoona blinked, caught off guard by the question. She shook her head slowly. “No. It’s just…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t think I’d still be here.”
Jinsol’s gaze softened, but there was something conflicted in her eyes. “Me neither.”
Yoona let out a quiet breath, turning back to the photograph. “It was a good day,” she murmured.
Jinsol nodded. “It was.”
A beat of silence.
Then, almost too softly, Yoona asked, “Do you miss it?”
Jinsol didn’t answer right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Every day.”
Yoona felt her chest tighten at Jinsol’s words. You’re here now.
She was. After all this time, after all the days she spent convincing herself that she had moved on, that Jinsol was just a memory—she was still here, standing in front of her, feeling just as lost as before.
“I don’t know if that means anything anymore,” Yoona said quietly, lowering her gaze.
Jinsol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she watched Yoona, taking in the way her fingers curled into the hem of the borrowed shirt, the way she bit her lip like she was holding back everything she truly wanted to say.
Finally, Jinsol sighed, shaking her head. “It means something to me.”
Yoona looked up at her, eyes slightly wide.
Jinsol hesitated before continuing, her voice softer this time. “I didn’t put that picture up there just for nostalgia, Yoona.” She gestured toward the wall where the photo of them at Sol’s Table hung, surrounded by images of her journey. “I put it there because it’s a part of who I am. Because you—” She stopped, exhaling sharply. “You were a part of it, too.”
Yoona swallowed hard. Her throat felt dry, her heartbeat uneven.
“I was proud of you,” she admitted. “Even if I wasn’t there to see it happen.” She gestured vaguely around them, at the success Jinsol had built for herself. “All of this—you deserved it.”
Jinsol let out a small, humorless chuckle. “It didn’t feel like it sometimes.”
Yoona furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
Jinsol looked down, her fingers brushing over her wrist absentmindedly. “There were days when I thought I made a mistake,” she admitted. “That no matter how much I achieved here, something always felt… off.” She paused before glancing at Yoona again. “That something was you.”
Yoona’s breath caught in her throat.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The weight of everything—the years, the distance, the unspoken words—settled between them, heavy and undeniable.
Yoona felt her fingers tremble slightly, and she clenched them into fists to steady herself. “Then why didn’t you ever—” She shook her head, struggling to find the right words. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jinsol exhaled. “Why didn’t you?”
Yoona’s lips parted, but she had no answer.
Because she was scared? Because she thought Jinsol was better off without her? Because she convinced herself that she didn’t deserve to hold onto someone like her?
All of those reasons sounded so meaningless now.
Jinsol took a step closer. “Yoona.”
Yoona held her breath.
Jinsol hesitated, then carefully reached out, her fingers brushing against Yoona’s hand before she gently held it.
“We will try,” Jinsol said, her voice steady, as if there was no doubt in her mind.
Yoona blinked, her breath unsteady. “Try what?”
Jinsol squeezed her fingers lightly. “Us.”
Yoona felt something in her chest clench.
This was it. The thing they had been too afraid to face for years.
She looked down at their joined hands. Jinsol’s grip was warm, steady. And for the first time in a long time, Yoona didn’t feel like she was holding onto something that would slip away.
But was it really that easy?
Could they really just pick up where they left off?
“I…” Yoona swallowed, her thoughts racing. “I don’t know.”
Jinsol nodded, as if she expected that answer. But instead of letting go, she only held on tighter.
“That’s okay,” Jinsol murmured. “I just needed to say it.”
Yoona’s chest ached at the sincerity in her voice.
Maybe she didn’t have the answer right now. Maybe she was still terrified of what this meant.
But standing here, with Jinsol holding onto her like she was something worth holding onto—
Maybe she didn’t want to let go either.
Next, they went to a coffee shop.
The coffee shop Jinsol brought them to was tucked away on a quieter street, away from the rush of the city. It had a warm, inviting atmosphere—wooden tables, soft lighting, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. The kind of place where people took their time, where conversations lasted longer than the drinks themselves.
Yoona glanced around as they stepped inside, taking in the walls lined with books and handwritten notes pinned to a board near the counter. A small smile tugged at her lips. It reminded her of the small-town cafés she used to go to, the ones where life moved at a slower, more familiar pace.
Jinsol, without hesitation, led her toward the outdoor seating area. It was a little patio with fairy lights strung overhead, casting a warm glow as the sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. A soft breeze carried the smell of roasted coffee beans and something sweet—maybe cinnamon.
They settled into their seats, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them felt quiet in a way that wasn’t uncomfortable, just thoughtful.
Jinsol took off her sunglasses, setting them on the table. “I used to come here a lot when I first moved to Seoul,” she said, leaning back slightly in her chair. “It felt different from the rest of the city. Like I could actually breathe.”
Yoona nodded, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the menu. “It does feel nice,” she admitted.
A barista came over, smiling warmly as she greeted them. “Welcome! What can I get for you?”
Jinsol glanced at Yoona. “Still drinking the same thing? Or has Seoul changed your taste?”
Yoona scoffed lightly. “I think I can order for myself, thanks.” She turned to the barista. “I’ll have an iced vanilla latte.”
Jinsol smirked before turning to the barista. “Hot Americano for me.”
After the barista left, Yoona leaned back in her chair, watching the city lights flicker on in the distance. She wondered if Jinsol still drank coffee the same way every morning—if she still took that first sip with a quiet sigh, the way she always did back at Sol’s Table.
“You still drink your coffee black, huh?” Yoona mused.
Jinsol shrugged. “Some things never change.” She tilted her head slightly. “And you still like yours too sweet.”
Yoona rolled her eyes. “It’s not that sweet.”
Jinsol gave her a knowing look but didn’t argue. Instead, she let the quiet settle between them again.
When their drinks arrived, Yoona took a sip, letting the coolness of the latte soothe her nerves. She glanced across the table, watching as Jinsol wrapped her hands around her cup, staring down into the dark liquid like she was lost in thought.
Finally, Yoona spoke. “Why did you bring me here?”
Jinsol lifted her gaze. “Because I wanted to,” she said simply. “And because I think we needed it.”
Yoona bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this—for them to just slip into something that felt normal. But at the same time, sitting here with Jinsol, talking over coffee like nothing had changed… it felt good.
Maybe too good.
Jinsol glanced at her phone, checking the time before letting out a small sigh. “I need to go somewhere for a bit,” she said, pushing back her chair.
Yoona’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “Where?”
Jinsol grabbed her sunglasses from the table and slid them on. “Just a quick meeting. Won’t take long.” She looked at Yoona, hesitating for a second. “Wait for me here?”
Yoona’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything. The thought crept into her mind before she could stop it—what if she doesn’t come back? What if Jinsol left her here, alone, with nothing? No phone, no wallet, not even a jacket.
She was completely dependent on Jinsol right now.
Jinsol must have noticed the flicker of hesitation in her expression because she leaned down slightly, speaking softer. “I’m coming back, Yoona. Just wait, okay?”
Yoona nodded, but as soon as Jinsol turned and walked away, disappearing past the café entrance, her heart started pounding.
She shifted in her seat, gripping the edge of the table as her mind raced.
What if Jinsol changed her mind? What if she got caught up in something and forgot? What if she meant to leave her here?
The feeling of not having anything on her only made it worse. She had no phone to call Jiwoo, no money to catch a cab, no ID to even prove who she was if she needed to. If Jinsol really didn’t come back…
Yoona clenched her jaw, shaking the thought away. Don’t be ridiculous. Jinsol wasn’t like that. She wasn’t cruel.
Still, every minute that passed felt unbearably slow. She tapped her fingers against the wooden table, her knee bouncing slightly as she anxiously glanced toward the café entrance every few seconds.
People came and went, their laughter and conversation filling the air, but none of them were Jinsol.
Yoona exhaled sharply. I swear, if she actually leaves me here, I’m never forgiving her.
Yoona sat at the café table, staring at nothing in particular. The coffee in front of her had gone cold, untouched. The chair across from her was empty.
Jinsol had told her to wait. But how long was she supposed to wait?
She shifted uncomfortably. The city around her was unfamiliar, filled with strangers who passed by without a glance. She had no phone, no money, nothing but the oversized shirt on her back that smelled like Jinsol.
The thought made her stomach twist. What if Jinsol didn’t come back? What if this was a mistake?
She sighed, resting her chin in her palm. Maybe she should just leave—
Then, the sound of footsteps.
She looked up, her heart lurching for no reason. Jinsol was walking toward her, sunglasses still perched on her head, her white shirt slightly wrinkled from the afternoon sun.
But there was something different.
One of her hands was tucked behind her back.
Yoona frowned. “What are you hiding?”
Jinsol feigned innocence. “Hiding? Me?”
Yoona narrowed her eyes.
Jinsol smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer, finally pulling her hand forward.
A single flower. Soft-colored, delicately wrapped. Attached to it was a small card.
Yoona blinked, staring at it. “What is this?”
Jinsol slid into the seat across from her and set the flower down between them. “A gift.”
Yoona hesitated before reaching for it. Her fingers brushed against the petals, soft and real, before flipping the card over.
For the one who always lingers in my thoughts.
Her breath hitched slightly.
Jinsol was watching her closely, her elbow propped on the table, chin resting on her hand. She looked calm, but there was something in her eyes—something careful, like she was waiting.
Yoona’s grip on the card tightened. “You really thought I was gonna leave you here, didn’t you?”
Yoona immediately looked away, but the slight pink on her ears gave her away.
Jinsol grinned, amused. “I told you to trust me.”
Yoona scoffed, brushing her thumb against the card before setting it down. She hated how easily Jinsol could read her, how effortlessly she could make her heart twist with something as simple as a flower.
Jinsol reached out, gently poking the back of her hand with her finger. “So? Do you like it?”
Yoona exhaled through her nose, still avoiding Jinsol’s gaze. “It’s fine.”
Jinsol chuckled. “You’re so bad at this.”
Yoona glared at her, but she still didn’t let go of the flower.
Jinsol barely caught the words. The city’s noise surrounded them—the distant hum of cars, the chatter of people walking by—but through all of it, she still heard Yoona’s whisper.
“I love it.”
Yoona’s fingers curled slightly around the flower, her eyes cast downward, pretending to focus on the petals. But her ears were tinted pink, and Jinsol knew—this wasn’t just about the flower.
For a moment, Jinsol just watched her, letting the words settle between them. It was rare for Yoona to say things like this out loud. She always held back, always guarded her emotions so tightly.
But now, she wasn’t running.
Jinsol leaned forward slightly, resting her arm on the table. “Say it again.”
Yoona finally looked up, her brows furrowing. “Why?”
Jinsol grinned. “Because I like hearing it.”
Yoona groaned, gripping the flower tighter as she looked away. “You’re impossible.”
Jinsol laughed, tilting her head. “And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Yoona huffed, shaking her head. “I take it back. I hate it.”
Jinsol just kept smiling, the warmth in her chest spreading. It didn’t matter if Yoona tried to cover it up now—she had already said it. And Jinsol wasn’t going to forget.
Not now. Not ever.
The golden hues of the setting sun stretched across the sky, casting a warm glow over the city as Jinsol drove down the open road. The convertible moved smoothly, the wind playing with Yoona’s hair as she leaned slightly against the seat, her fingers resting lightly on the car door. The air smelled of salt and the distant scent of food stalls somewhere in the city, but mostly, it smelled like the ocean.
Yoona let her eyes wander to the horizon, watching the endless stretch of sky shift from orange to soft pink. She sighed, almost unconsciously. This feeling—it was something she had missed for a long time. The freedom of the open road, the warmth of the setting sun, the quiet companionship sitting beside her.
Jinsol, behind her dark sunglasses, kept sneaking glances. She didn’t know what it was, but seeing Yoona like this, so lost in the moment, made something tighten in her chest. The way the breeze tousled her hair, how her lips parted slightly as she took in the scenery—it was a sight Jinsol couldn’t ignore.
“You like this, don’t you?” Jinsol finally asked, her voice calm but carrying a hint of amusement.
Yoona turned her head, eyes slightly wide as if caught in the middle of a thought. Then, she nodded. "Yeah," she admitted, a small smile creeping onto her face. "It’s beautiful."
Jinsol hummed in response. She wanted to say more, maybe tease her about how peaceful she looked, but instead, she kept her focus on the road. Not because she didn’t want to talk—but because if she looked at Yoona for too long, she might not be able to look away.
The drive continued in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sounds of the waves growing louder as they approached the beach. The road had fewer cars now, the city slowly fading behind them.
Finally, Jinsol pulled up at a quiet stretch of sand where the ocean spread wide before them, waves rolling in slow, rhythmic patterns. The wind was gentler here, and the golden sky reflected perfectly on the water.
Yoona stepped out first, stretching her arms before walking towards the shore. She dug her hands into the pockets of Jinsol’s borrowed jacket—it was slightly too big for her, but she didn’t mind.
Jinsol followed behind, hands in her pockets. She watched as Yoona inhaled deeply, taking in the salty air, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
"You always liked the ocean," Jinsol remarked, voice quieter now.
Yoona nodded, eyes still lost in the waves. "It feels like home."
Jinsol shifted on her feet, looking at Yoona instead of the ocean. "Do you ever think about going back?"
Yoona exhaled softly. "I don’t know," she admitted. "I used to think I had everything figured out. But now… I’m not so sure anymore."
Jinsol stared at her, her heart beating a little faster. "Yeah," she murmured, "me neither."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just stood there, side by side, watching the sky darken as the sun dipped lower. The waves crashed gently against the shore, a steady, familiar rhythm that neither of them realized they had missed.
Jinsol didn’t know what would happen next. But for now, standing here, with Yoona beside her, she wasn’t thinking about La Mer, or her success, or the life she had built in the city.
She was only thinking about this moment. And Yoona.
The waves rolled in softly, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the sand. Yoona hugged Jinsol’s jacket closer to her body, not because it was cold, but because it felt nice. It smelled like Jinsol—warm, familiar, and something she wasn’t ready to part with.
Jinsol stood beside her, hands still tucked in her pockets, her gaze flickering between the ocean and Yoona. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something heavy in the air, something waiting to be spoken.
"You never told me why you left," Yoona finally said, breaking the quiet.
Jinsol glanced at her, surprised at how steady her voice was despite the emotions behind it. "You knew why," she replied, her tone softer than usual. "It was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore."
Yoona exhaled through her nose, her lips pressing together. "That’s not what I meant."
Jinsol shifted her weight slightly, looking down at the sand. "I thought you didn’t care," she admitted. "You told me to go like it didn’t matter."
Yoona turned to face her fully now, brows slightly furrowed. "What else was I supposed to say? Beg you to stay?" She let out a small, breathy laugh, but it wasn’t amused. "You were already gone, Jinsol. You were already thinking about leaving long before I even knew about it."
Jinsol looked at her then, really looked at her, and something twisted in her chest. "I thought…" she hesitated, voice quieter, "I thought you were happy with Jihoon. I thought you moved on."
Yoona let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head. "Jihoon was never the one I wanted. He was a distraction, and I was stupid for thinking that would work."
Jinsol stared at her, the wind tousling her short hair slightly. "Yoona…"
Yoona turned away, staring at the ocean again. "I saw you everywhere, you know?" she murmured. "Even when you weren’t there. Even when I tried not to."
Jinsol swallowed hard. She wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of the past two years sat heavy on her tongue.
Yoona let out a humorless chuckle. "I saw you on TV. In interviews. Smiling. Talking about La Mer and how much you love what you do. You looked… happy." She turned back to Jinsol, eyes searching. "Were you?"
Jinsol held her gaze for a long moment. "I was," she admitted, but her voice wavered. "I am."
Yoona nodded slowly, looking down. "That’s good," she said, but there was something sad in her voice.
Jinsol clenched her jaw, debating with herself before stepping closer. "But I missed you," she said, barely above a whisper. "More than I wanted to."
Yoona’s breath hitched, but she didn’t step back. "Then why didn’t you ever come back?"
Jinsol let out a heavy breath. "Because I was scared," she confessed. "Scared that if I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to leave."
Yoona stared at her, her heart pounding. "And now?"
Jinsol swallowed. "Now… I don’t know."
They stood there, inches apart, the ocean stretching endlessly before them. The sky had deepened into a soft purple, the last remnants of sunlight fading into the horizon.
Yoona looked at Jinsol, at the woman she had spent two years trying to forget but never could. "I don’t know either," she whispered.
Jinsol exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Then let’s figure it out together."
Yoona’s lips parted slightly, eyes searching Jinsol’s for any hint of hesitation. But there was none.
For the first time in a long time, Jinsol wasn’t running away.
Jinsol took a deep breath, steadying herself. The ocean breeze tousled her hair, but she barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on Yoona—on the way she looked at her, hesitant yet longing, like she wanted to believe in something but was too afraid to.
“I want you to stay,” Jinsol said, her voice firm but soft.
Yoona blinked, lips parting slightly as if she didn’t hear her right. “What?”
“In Seoul,” Jinsol clarified, stepping closer. “With me.”
Yoona let out a small breath, barely audible over the sound of the waves. “Jinsol…”
“I’ll do anything,” Jinsol cut in, desperate now. “Whatever it takes, Yoona. I don’t care if I have to adjust my schedule, if I have to make time, if I have to change things. I’ll do it. I just—” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair.
“I just don’t want to lose you again.”
Yoona stared at her, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She had spent so long thinking Jinsol had moved on without her, that she was just a forgotten part of her past. But now, standing in front of her, Jinsol looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world.
“You never said anything before,” Yoona murmured, voice unsteady.
“I was a coward,” Jinsol admitted. “I thought you were fine. I thought you were happy, and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin that for you.” She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “But the truth is, I was miserable without you. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Yoona swallowed hard, her emotions tangled. “You really mean that?”
Jinsol nodded without hesitation. “More than anything.”
A silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the waves and the distant chatter of people along the shore.
Yoona closed her eyes for a brief moment, then looked up at Jinsol. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Jinsol murmured, her hand reaching out slowly.
“Just… stay.”
Yoona stared at her, at the hope in her eyes, the vulnerability. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so lost.
Yoona let out a small, tired laugh, shaking her head as she looked away toward the horizon. The waves rolled in gently, the golden hues of the sunset casting soft shadows along the sand. The air smelled of salt and the faintest trace of grilled food from the vendors further down the beach. The ocean had always been her comfort—endless, vast, and quiet.
“I ran away from Seoul,” she admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I left to find peace. To slow down, to breathe. And now… you’re asking me to come back.”
Jinsol remained quiet, watching Yoona’s profile as the wind played with her dark hair. She wanted to reach out, to tuck it behind her ear like she always did, but she held back. Instead, she let the weight of Yoona’s words settle between them.
“I never thought of it that way,” Jinsol murmured, finally breaking the silence. “I was so caught up in wanting you here that I didn’t think about why you left in the first place.”
Yoona sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool evening breeze brushed against her skin. “Seoul was exhausting. The fast pace, the constant expectations, the never-ending noise… I was drowning there. Moving to the town—it saved me, Sol. I found a life I actually liked, one that didn’t drain me every day.”
Jinsol turned toward her fully, her gaze earnest. “Then why did you come here?” she asked softly. “If the town was everything you needed, why are you standing here with me now?”
Yoona blinked, caught off guard by the question. She had asked herself the same thing so many times in the past few days. She could have stayed. She could have let Jinsol go and moved on. But instead, she had found herself in Seoul, standing in front of La Mer, staring at the woman who had never really left her heart.
“…I don’t know,” she whispered. “I just—I couldn’t stay away.”
Jinsol’s lips parted slightly, her heart racing at Yoona’s honesty. “Then stay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Stay here. With me.”
Yoona let out a soft scoff, looking down at her feet. “It’s not that simple, Sol.”
“It can be,” Jinsol argued gently. “I don’t want you to go back if it’ll make you miserable. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to try, we can make it work. It doesn’t have to be like before. You don’t have to live the same life you ran from.”
Yoona exhaled, her chest tightening at Jinsol’s words. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that she could stay, that she could be happy here, that Seoul didn’t have to suffocate her the way it once did. But the fear lingered—what if it did? What if she lost herself again?
“I don’t have an answer for you yet,” Yoona admitted, her voice barely above the sound of the waves. “But I don’t want to leave you either.”
Jinsol let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A small smile tugged at her lips, a flicker of hope lighting up her dark eyes. “That’s enough,” she said softly. “That’s enough for me.”
For the first time since arriving in Seoul, Yoona felt something other than uncertainty. She felt warmth. She felt possibility. And for now, that was enough.
They stood there, side by side, as the last light of the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. The city lights flickered in the distance, but for once, Seoul didn’t feel so overwhelming. It felt… different. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough too.
The ocean breeze was warm, carrying the scent of salt and the distant sound of waves crashing onto the shore. The golden hues of the setting sun painted their faces, making the moment feel almost unreal.
Jinsol had been staring at Yoona for a while now, watching the way the wind played with her hair, the way her eyes softened under the warm glow of the sky. Yoona wasn’t looking at her—she was looking at the horizon, lost in thought. But Jinsol didn’t care about the view. She only cared about the woman standing beside her.
Slowly, cautiously, Jinsol reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Yoona’s ear. That was when Yoona turned to face her, their eyes locking, the world around them fading away.
Jinsol’s heart pounded against her ribs. This close, she could see everything—Yoona’s parted lips, the nervous rise and fall of her chest, the slight tremble in her fingers as they hovered near Jinsol’s arm.
Neither of them spoke. There was no need to.
Jinsol leaned in, closing the space between them inch by inch. Yoona didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if inviting the moment to happen. The warmth between them grew, the tension so thick it was suffocating.
Just a little closer—
Then, Jinsol’s phone rang. Loud and sharp, cutting through the fragile moment like a knife.
Yoona immediately pulled back, blinking as if she had just woken from a dream. The warmth was gone in an instant, replaced by cold reality.
Jinsol shut her eyes tightly, frustration tightening her jaw. “Are you kidding me?” she muttered, digging into her pocket for the phone.
Yoona took another step back, arms crossing over her chest as she turned away, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
Jinsol hesitated. She didn’t want to answer it. She wanted to ignore the damn call and pull Yoona back in, close the space between them again. But when she saw the caller ID—La Mer—she knew she had no choice.
“Yeah?” she answered, her voice clipped.
Yoona ran a hand through her hair, staring at the ground. The moment had passed. Gone. And she wasn’t sure if it would ever come back.
Jinsol was talking quickly, handling whatever issue had come up at the restaurant, but her eyes kept darting to Yoona, desperate and uncertain.
Yoona exhaled slowly. “I’ll wait in the car,” she muttered, turning before Jinsol could say anything.
Jinsol watched her retreat, gripping her phone tighter. She wanted to stop her, wanted to throw the phone into the ocean and tell Yoona to stay right here, to let them finish what had just begun.
But she didn’t.
And as Yoona walked away, Jinsol felt the weight of another missed moment settle deep in her chest.
As Jinsol pulled up in front of her apartment building, she hesitated before putting the car in park. The ride back had been quiet, almost too quiet, as if the moment they shared by the ocean had been left behind with the waves. She could still feel the lingering warmth of Yoona’s presence beside her, but something about the way she sat, looking out the window instead of at Jinsol, made her chest feel tight.
Jinsol exhaled through her nose, gripping the steering wheel. “I have to go to La Mer,” she finally said, breaking the silence. Her voice was softer than usual, careful.
Yoona shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of the bag she borrowed from Jinsol. “Okay,” she murmured, her tone unreadable.
Jinsol turned to face her fully. “Something came up, but I won’t be long.”
Yoona nodded but still wouldn’t look at her. “You don’t have to explain,” she said quietly, reaching for the door handle.
Jinsol frowned. “I want to.”
That made Yoona pause, her fingers hovering over the handle for a second before she finally pushed the door open. The air outside was noticeably cooler than before, making her shiver slightly as she stepped out.
Jinsol watched her from the driver’s seat, feeling like she should say more, but the words felt stuck in her throat. Instead, she leaned her arm against the window frame and called out, “I’ll be back quickly, okay?”
Yoona nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze—hesitation, doubt, something that made Jinsol’s stomach turn.
“Wait for me,” Jinsol said before she could stop herself.
Yoona finally looked at her then, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something. But instead, she just pressed them together and gave a small nod.
Jinsol sighed, running a hand through her hair, frustration creeping into her chest. She didn’t want to leave. Not when things still felt unfinished between them. Not when they had just started to understand what this was between them.
But La Mer needed her.
She turned the key, the car rumbling to life, and reluctantly pulled away.
As she drove off, she looked at the rearview mirror one last time.
Yoona was still standing there, watching her go.
Yoona shut the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling a shaky breath. The silence of Jinsol’s apartment surrounded her, too large, too empty despite its beauty. She looked around, taking in the high ceilings, the perfect arrangement of furniture, the way everything smelled like Jinsol—clean, warm, familiar.
But it didn’t feel like home.
Not to her.
She walked further inside, her steps slow and uncertain. The thought settled deep in her chest: I can’t live like this.
Not in this city, not in this place where Jinsol belonged so effortlessly while she still felt like an outsider. It was suffocating. She had spent two years building a life away from Seoul, away from the noise, the rush, the expectations. And now, here she was again, back in the same place, as if she had never left.
Her hands clenched into fists.
No—she had left. She had made a choice. And she couldn’t just throw that away.
Her eyes landed on the home phone sitting on the counter. Without thinking, she reached for it. Her fingers dialed a number she knew by heart, pressing the receiver to her ear.
A few rings, then a familiar voice picked up.
“Yoona?” Jiwoo’s voice was groggy, like she had just woken up. “It’s late. What’s up?”
Yoona swallowed, her grip on the phone tightening. “I need to go home,” she whispered.
There was a pause. “Home…?”
“The small town. My home.” Yoona inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. “I can’t stay here, Jiwoo. I can’t live like this with Jinsol.”
Jiwoo was silent for a few seconds. Then, a tired sigh. “Yoona…”
“I mean it,” Yoona cut in before Jiwoo could argue. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I don’t belong here.”
Another pause. Then, Jiwoo’s voice, softer this time. “Did something happen?”
Yoona closed her eyes. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
She didn’t know how to explain the feeling twisting inside her chest—the weight of the past, the fear of the future, the ache of wanting something that felt too far out of reach.
Jiwoo sighed again, but this time, there was no resistance in her tone. “Alright,” she finally said. “I’ll book you a train ticket.”
Yoona’s breath hitched. “Thank you.”
But even as she said it, something inside her still felt unresolved.
Yoona hesitated for a moment, staring at the phone in her hand. She had expected Jiwoo to book a ticket for her to leave in the morning, maybe even argue with her a little more. But Jiwoo knew her too well—knew that once Yoona made up her mind, there was no changing it.
The phone rang again, snapping her out of her thoughts. She picked it up.
“We’re already outside,” Jiwoo’s voice came through, clear and firm. “Haneul’s with me. You coming or what?”
Yoona’s heart pounded. She glanced toward the apartment door, then back at the city skyline outside the window. The lights of Seoul stretched endlessly, glowing, shimmering—a world that Jinsol thrived in. A world that had never been hers.
She inhaled deeply, gripping the phone tighter. “I’m coming.”
Hanging up, she turned away from the view and moved quickly. She didn’t have anything to pack—Jiwoo had stolen her belongings anyway. Her steps were steady, but her hands trembled as she reached for the door.
This was it.
She was leaving.
Yoona stood by the door, her hand resting on the handle, but she didn’t turn it right away. Instead, she looked around the apartment—Jinsol’s apartment—one last time.
The place was so… Jinsol. The scent of her lingered in the air, the faint aroma of her perfume mixed with hints of coffee and fresh linen. The space was modern yet warm, decorated with little details that made it feel lived in. The kitchen, sleek and organized, had a mug Yoona used this morning still sitting by the sink.
Her heart ached.
She had spent only a few days here, yet it already felt like she belonged in this space. Like she was supposed to be part of it. But she knew better.
This wasn’t her life. It never had been.
Her fingers curled around the doorknob, tightening as she forced herself to move. But just before she left, she turned her head one last time, memorizing everything. The sunlight filtering through the large windows. The perfectly arranged bookshelves. The way Jinsol’s jacket was lazily draped over the couch, as if she had left in a hurry.
Yoona swallowed, blinking rapidly.
Then, without another word, she opened the door and stepped out, leaving behind the home she had almost let herself want.
Jinsol stepped into the kitchen, her jaw clenched, hands gripping the edge of the counter as she tried to shake off the frustration bubbling inside her. She had rushed here thinking it was urgent, but it was just another routine issue—one of the chefs needed her approval on a dish, and a VIP customer wanted to see her. Normally, she would handle it with ease, but tonight, everything felt heavier.
She exhaled sharply, straightened her back, and made her way to the private dining area. The VIP customers greeted her warmly, expecting her usual charm, but all she could muster was a polite nod and a few brief words about their meal. She barely registered their praise, barely cared for the conversation. Her mind was elsewhere.
Her hands twitched, wanting to reach for her phone. Was Yoona still at her apartment? Had she eaten? What was she doing?
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus, but it was no use. Even in the heart of her own restaurant, surrounded by success, all she could think about was the woman who wasn’t here.
Jinsol moved through the restaurant with sharp efficiency, her usual grace replaced by urgency. She signed off on dishes without her usual meticulous taste-testing, gave quick nods to the staff instead of lingering feedback, and wrapped up her conversation with the VIPs in record time.
Her managers and chefs noticed—Jinsol was never like this. She always took her time, ensuring perfection in every detail. But tonight, she barely seemed present, her attention flickering somewhere far away.
As soon as everything was settled, she grabbed her coat and muttered a quick, “I’ll be out for the rest of the night,” before heading straight for the exit.
Her mind was set. She just needed to get back to Yoona.
Jinsol stepped inside, her footsteps echoing slightly in the silence. The bag of food in her hand felt heavier than before. She flicked on the lights, expecting to see Yoona curled up on the couch, maybe half-asleep from waiting. But the living room was empty.
Her brows furrowed as she set the bag down on the kitchen counter. "Yoona?" she called again, a little louder this time, walking further inside.
The silence in the apartment felt suffocating. Jinsol’s heart pounded in her chest as she gripped her phone tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her eyes darted around, hoping—begging—for some kind of sign that Yoona was still here. Maybe she was in the bathroom. Maybe she had stepped out for air.
But she knew better.
The blanket was folded. The glass was clean. Everything was too neat, too deliberate. It was as if Yoona had erased every trace of herself before leaving.
Jinsol swallowed hard and took a slow step back, her mind racing. She turned toward the door, hoping, praying she’d see a familiar figure hesitating outside, deciding whether to come back. But when she swung the door open, the hallway was empty.
Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her phone, dialing without thinking. The ringing felt like it lasted forever before Jiwoo finally picked up.
"Jiwoo," Jinsol breathed, trying to steady her voice, but it cracked anyway. "Where is she?"
Jiwoo was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed. "Jinsol—"
"Where is she?" Jinsol repeated, louder this time, her other hand gripping the edge of the counter. She needed to know. Needed to hear it. Even if the answer would tear her apart.
"She left," Jiwoo admitted. "She called me. We are already on our way back."
Jinsol closed her eyes, exhaling sharply as she felt something inside her crack open, raw and unbearable. "No," she whispered.
She should've known. She should've never left Yoona alone.
"You really thought she’d stay?" Jiwoo's voice was softer now, almost careful. "You know her, Jinsol. She didn’t belong here. And you never gave her a reason to stay. I'm disappointed in you."
Jinsol clenched her jaw, her mind flashing back to the moment Yoona whispered that she couldn’t live like this.
She had ignored it. Let it slip through her fingers like sand.
And now she was gone.
Yoona kept her gaze locked on the passing scenery outside the train window. The city lights blurred together, forming streaks of gold and white against the darkening sky. The further the train moved, the more distant everything felt—Jinsol, the apartment, the soft scent of her clothes, the warmth that had almost convinced her to stay.
But Yoona wasn’t focused on any of that.
She was listening.
Jiwoo’s voice was clear despite the hum of the train, steady but not unshaken. “She just—she didn’t think she could stay,” Jiwoo was saying. “You know that, right?”
Yoona clenched her jaw, gripping the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. The fabric felt familiar, comforting in a way she didn’t deserve.
“I don’t—” Jinsol’s voice on the other end wavered. “I don’t understand, Jiwoo. I thought—”
She stopped.
Yoona could hear the silence stretching between them, thick and suffocating. Jinsol was searching for words, but none were coming.
And Yoona couldn’t bear to listen.
Her fingers tightened around her sleeves, knuckles turning white. She told herself she wouldn’t cry. That she had made this choice, and she had to live with it.
But her body betrayed her.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.
Yoona bit down on her lip, hard enough to hurt.
She shut her eyes, willing the ache in her chest to quiet.
Another tear fell, landing on the back of her hand.
She wiped it away quickly, pretending it was never there.