Chapter 9
The morning air was crisp, a light breeze slipping through the open window as Jinsol quietly moved around the house. The scent of freshly cooked rice and simmering broth filled the kitchen, carrying warmth into every corner of the quiet home.
She had woken up with a slight stiffness in her neck from sleeping at Yoona’s bedside, her head resting awkwardly against the wooden table. But the discomfort was the least of her worries. What mattered was that Yoona had slept through the night, her fever seemingly breaking as dawn approached.
Jinsol worked in silence, carefully slicing vegetables and setting them aside. The kitchen was small, cozy, nothing like the industrial-scale one she had back in Seoul, but it felt… right. It felt like a space meant to be cared for, like a home, and it made her slow down.
She didn’t rush as she prepared breakfast. A warm bowl of rice porridge, topped with a sprinkle of sesame seeds and finely chopped green onions. A small dish of pickled radish on the side, and a bit of grilled fish—something simple yet comforting. Something Yoona might actually eat.
As the broth simmered, she glanced around the house. The laundry basket sat near the back, filled with clothes that had piled up over the past few days. Without thinking much about it, Jinsol moved toward it, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater as she started sorting through the garments.
Most of them were Yoona’s—soft, well-worn sweaters, plain t-shirts, and comfortable loungewear. They smelled faintly of her, a scent that Jinsol didn’t even realize she had memorized until now.
She held up one of Yoona’s oversized hoodies, shaking it out before setting it aside. She remembered how Yoona used to bury her hands in the sleeves, her expression unreadable, her mind lost in thought. Jinsol had watched her do that so many times in the past. And now, standing here, holding these small pieces of Yoona’s life in her hands, she felt an ache settle in her chest.
She missed her.
Not just the presence of Yoona in the same space—but the way she used to be around her. The soft glances. The quiet smiles. The way they used to exist in the same world without this heavy tension between them.
Jinsol let out a deep sigh and threw the clothes into the washing machine, setting it to run as she wiped her hands on a towel.
She forced herself to move on, making sure everything was neat, folding dry clothes, tidying up where she could. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel like she was doing something. Like she wasn’t just waiting helplessly.
A faint creak of the wooden floor caught her attention.
She turned toward the stairs, just in time to see Yoona slowly making her way down.
Her steps were small, hesitant, as if she was still exhausted, but at least she was up. Jinsol took in the sight of her—pale, lips dry, eyes barely open.
She quickly stepped forward. “You should’ve stayed in bed.”
Yoona didn’t answer, her gaze drifting toward the table where breakfast was waiting.
Jinsol exhaled softly. “Come sit. Eat something.”
Yoona didn’t argue. She just sat down, her movements sluggish, her presence still feeling distant.
Jinsol sat across from her, watching as Yoona hesitated before picking up the spoon. She barely lifted it to her lips before setting it back down.
“Not hungry?” Jinsol asked, her voice gentler this time.
Yoona shook her head slightly.
Jinsol sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she reached across the table and, for the first time in what felt like forever, she placed her hand over Yoona’s.
It was cold.
Jinsol squeezed gently. “At least take a few bites. Please.”
Yoona didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge the way Jinsol was holding her hand. But after a long pause, she picked up the spoon again and took a small sip of the porridge.
Jinsol let out a quiet breath of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Jinsol sat there patiently, watching as Yoona took slow, hesitant bites. It wasn’t much—just small spoonfuls of porridge, barely making a dent in the bowl—but Jinsol didn’t mind. As long as she was eating, it was enough for now.
Every now and then, Jinsol reached over, gently tucking strands of Yoona’s messy hair behind her ear. It had fallen into her face as she leaned forward, her movements sluggish, but she didn’t seem to care.
Jinsol did, though.
She let her fingers linger for a moment before pulling away, only to do it again when another stray strand fell. It was an unconscious habit—one she hadn’t realized she still had. She used to do this all the time. Back when Yoona would come home from long shifts at the hospital, exhausted but too stubborn to sleep right away. Jinsol would sit beside her, fixing her hair absentmindedly as she talked about her day.
But now, Yoona wasn’t talking. She wasn’t even looking at her.
Jinsol swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape and forced a small smile.
"You should eat a little more," she murmured.
Yoona barely nodded. She took another slow bite, and Jinsol caught herself staring at the way she held the spoon—her fingers thinner than before, her grip almost weak. Had she been eating properly at all these past few days?
Jinsol hated thinking about it.
She reached over again, brushing Yoona’s bangs aside, fingertips grazing her forehead.
“Still warm,” she mumbled.
Yoona didn’t react. She just kept eating, slow and silent, like she wasn’t even there.
Jinsol bit her lip and withdrew her hand, tapping her fingers against her knee.
The room was too quiet. Too heavy.
“Do you remember when we used to eat together like this?” Jinsol asked, her voice light, like she was reminiscing. “Except back then, you’d always complain about the taste, saying I was getting too fancy with the ingredients.”
No response.
Jinsol chuckled softly, even though there was no humor in it. “You used to say my food should feel like home. I wonder… does this still taste like home to you?”
Yoona paused. Her fingers tightened slightly around the spoon, but she didn’t answer.
Jinsol didn’t push. She just smiled a little and reached out once more, fixing Yoona’s hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jinsol stood up, brushing off her jeans as she glanced at Yoona, who was still staring down at her half-finished bowl of porridge. Her voice was gentle but firm when she spoke.
"I'm going to the hospital to ask for some medication for you," she said, adjusting the sleeves of her sweater. "You don’t have to worry. I’ll be quick."
Yoona didn’t respond immediately. It was clear she had no energy to argue, but there was something about the way she avoided Jinsol’s gaze that made Jinsol hesitate.
She took a step closer, crouching down slightly to meet Yoona’s lowered eyes. "Just stay here and rest, okay? I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone."
Yoona still didn’t say anything, but after a moment, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Jinsol sighed softly. It wasn’t much, but at least she wasn’t refusing.
Before standing up, she reached out one last time, brushing her fingers lightly against Yoona’s forehead as if checking her temperature again. It was still warm, and that only made her more determined to hurry.
With one last glance at Yoona, she grabbed her coat from the chair and headed for the door. "I mean it, Yoona. Don’t move around too much, okay?"
She didn't expect an answer, but just as she turned the doorknob, she heard the faintest whisper behind her.
"…Be quick."
Jinsol froze for half a second before turning slightly, a small, relieved smile tugging at her lips. It was the first thing Yoona had said to her all day.
"I will," she promised before slipping out the door, her steps a little lighter than before.
As Jinsol stepped into the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nose, a stark contrast to the warm, savory aromas she was used to in her kitchen. The moment she walked through the sliding doors, familiar faces turned to her. Nurses, doctors, and staff who had worked alongside Yoona for years looked up in quiet surprise.
"Jinsol?" One of the nurses blinked at her, clearly not expecting to see her here.
She gave them a small nod, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets. "Hey," she said, her voice lower than usual.
A few exchanged glances, and Jinsol could tell what they were thinking. They had been waiting for Yoona to return, to step through these halls as she always did, confident and calm, tending to patients with her steady hands. But instead, it was Jinsol standing here—Yoona’s absence more obvious now than ever.
"Where’s Yoona?" someone finally asked.
Jinsol exhaled, her jaw tightening slightly. "She’s not feeling well," she admitted. "That’s why I’m here. I need to get some medication for her. The doctor's around, right?"
The tension in the air shifted at her words. Some of the staff softened, nodding in understanding, while others exchanged silent looks. It was clear now—Jinsol wasn’t just here for a casual visit. She was taking care of Yoona.
"Doctor Kim is in her office," one of the nurses finally said. "I’ll let her know you’re here."
Jinsol nodded in thanks, waiting as the nurse disappeared down the hall. She could feel the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, quiet but knowing. Some looked relieved, others… curious.
Jinsol ignored it, tapping her foot impatiently. She didn’t want to waste time. Yoona was waiting for her.
The process was quick. Jinsol walked into the doctor's office, and without wasting time, she explained Yoona’s symptoms—fever, exhaustion, loss of appetite.
The doctor didn’t ask many questions. She just nodded, wrote down a prescription, and handed Jinsol a small bag of medicine. “Make sure she takes these on time and gets plenty of rest,” she said.
Jinsol took out her wallet and paid immediately, not even bothering to check the total. She didn’t care how much it cost—she just wanted to get back.
"Thanks," she muttered before heading straight for the exit.
She barely noticed the glances from the staff as she walked past. All she cared about was getting home to Yoona.
When Jinsol stepped into the house and didn’t see Yoona at the dining table, her stomach dropped. The house was quiet—too quiet.
She immediately checked the living room. Empty. Her eyes darted toward the kitchen. No sign of her. The bathroom door was open, the lights off.
“Yoona?” Jinsol called out, her voice laced with unease. She quickly moved toward the bedroom, her steps growing faster, her heart pounding.
Her fingers gripped the doorknob tightly before she pushed it open.
There—Yoona was in bed, lying still, her back turned toward the door.
Jinsol let out a sharp breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. For a moment, panic had overtaken her. She thought Yoona had left, disappeared again like before.
She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. "I’m back," she said, voice quieter now, careful not to startle her.
Yoona didn’t answer, but Jinsol noticed the faint movement of the blanket—Yoona had shifted ever so slightly. It was small, almost imperceptible, but enough for Jinsol to cling to.
She placed the bag of medicine on the bedside table, her fingers lingering over it. "I got you the medicine from the hospital. You need to take it after eating something."
Still, no response.
Jinsol sat down on the edge of the bed, close but not too close, her hand hovering over Yoona’s shoulder before finally resting there gently. "Yoona," she called again, her voice softer now, almost pleading.
This time, Yoona moved just a little, but she still didn’t turn to face her.
Jinsol sighed and stayed where she was, waiting—because she wasn’t going anywhere this time.
Jinsol sat beside Yoona, her fingers gently brushing against the blanket covering her. She watched Yoona’s back, hoping for any sign that she was listening.
"Kyujin, your colleagues… They were surprised to see me instead of you. They were waiting for you to come back, you know?" Jinsol paused, searching for any movement, but Yoona remained still.
"You need to get better soon," she said, her voice softening. "They miss you."
She hesitated for a moment before adding, "I miss you."
Yoona’s fingers twitched slightly under the blanket, but she still didn’t speak.
Jinsol sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I got your medicine. You should take it after eating. Even if it’s just a little, you need to eat something."
She reached for the medicine bag and placed it on the nightstand, making sure it was within reach. Then, she leaned in slightly, her voice even softer now.
"You don’t have to say anything," Jinsol murmured. "Just… let me stay. Let me help."
Silence hung between them, but this time, it felt different. Not as heavy. Not as distant.
Jinsol stayed there, waiting. Because even if Yoona wasn’t ready to talk yet, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Yoona sat up slowly, her body still weak but her mind a little clearer than before. The bitter taste of the medicine lingered on her tongue as she reached for the glass of water beside her bed, taking small sips.
Her room was dimly lit by the moonlight slipping through the curtains. The silence felt different tonight—lighter, less suffocating. But then, something caught her attention.
From downstairs, she could hear Jinsol’s voice.
It wasn’t the usual soft, teasing tone. It was tense, frustrated.
Yoona’s brows furrowed as she turned slightly, her door left slightly ajar. The muffled sounds of Jinsol’s conversation filtered through the quiet house.
"I already told you, Seojun. I’m not coming back yet," Jinsol snapped, frustration evident in her voice.
A long pause followed. Yoona imagined the person on the other end, likely one of her restaurant managers, trying to convince her to return. But Jinsol didn’t let them speak for long.
"I don’t care about the reservations," she continued, voice firm. "I said handle it. You’re more than capable, aren’t you?"
Another silence. Yoona could practically hear the exasperation in the way Jinsol let out a sharp breath.
"It doesn’t matter how busy it gets. I’m not leaving."
Yoona swallowed, her throat dry. She curled up slightly, bringing the blanket closer to her chin. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.
Then came Jinsol’s next words, quieter but laced with an unmistakable intensity.
"Because she needs me."
Yoona’s breath hitched.
She turned her face into the pillow, eyes blinking rapidly as a strange, painful warmth spread through her chest.
Jinsol was really staying.
Not because she had to. Not because someone told her to.
She was staying because she wanted to.
Yoona closed her eyes tightly. It was almost too much.
She could still hear Jinsol, her voice softer now, likely trying to calm whoever was on the other line. But Yoona had stopped listening. She didn’t need to hear anything else.
She let out a shaky breath, turning onto her side, away from the door, curling up into herself.
For the first time in days, her heart didn’t feel so heavy.
After a few days under Jinsol’s care, Yoona finally felt like herself again. The fever was gone, her body no longer ached, and the dizziness that once clouded her mind had disappeared.
She stood by the window, stretching her arms, feeling the warmth of the morning sun against her skin. The town outside was peaceful, the soft sounds of daily life filling the air. It was the first time in days she had taken a moment to simply breathe.
Downstairs, she could hear Jinsol moving around, likely preparing breakfast as she had done every morning since she arrived. The scent of something warm and savory drifted through the house, making Yoona’s stomach grumble.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was better now. There was no reason for Jinsol to stay any longer.
The thought made her chest tighten.
Jinsol turned around, a ladle still in her hand, and froze when she saw Yoona standing there. For the first time in days, Yoona didn’t look pale or weak. Her skin had regained its usual glow, and the exhaustion in her eyes had softened.
“You’re up,” Jinsol said, almost in disbelief.
Yoona nodded, adjusting the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing—Jinsol’s sweater. “Yeah,” she replied simply.
Jinsol set the ladle down and wiped her hands on a towel. “How do you feel?”
“Better.”
A small, relieved smile formed on Jinsol’s lips, but there was hesitation in her eyes. She had been preparing herself for this moment—the moment when Yoona no longer needed her care. When she would no longer have a reason to stay.
Yoona glanced at the breakfast Jinsol was making. “What are you cooking?”
“Something easy on the stomach,” Jinsol said, watching her carefully. “But if you’re feeling better, I can make whatever you want.”
Yoona shook her head, looking away. “This is fine.”
The silence between them felt different now. Lighter, but still uncertain. Jinsol wanted to say something—wanted to hold onto this moment for just a little longer. But she knew that now, the real conversation had to happen.
After finishing their meal, Jinsol stretched her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Wanna go out for a bit?” she asked casually.
Yoona glanced at her. “Go where?”
“Just around town.” Jinsol shrugged. “It’s been a while since I walked around here. And you’ve been cooped up for days.”
Yoona hesitated, staring at the table. The thought of stepping outside again, of being around people, felt foreign after isolating herself for so long. But Jinsol was looking at her, waiting, her expression hopeful yet patient.
“Alright,” Yoona finally said.
Jinsol grinned and stood up. “Great. Let’s go.”
They left the house and walked at a slow, steady pace. The town felt the same as always—small, quiet, familiar. The scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery drifted through the air, mixing with the salty breeze from the ocean. A few people recognized them, offering polite nods or small smiles, but neither of them stopped to chat.
Yoona kept her hands tucked into her coat pockets, her eyes scanning the streets she once walked every day. Jinsol, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed, her hands swinging slightly as she walked beside Yoona.
“You know,” Jinsol said after a while, “this town is still the same. Even after everything, it still feels like home.”
Yoona nodded, her gaze trailing over the distant waves. “Yeah… it does.”
Jinsol tilted her head slightly, watching Yoona’s face. “Do you miss it?”
Yoona took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe I just miss how simple things used to be.”
Jinsol smiled faintly. “Me too.”
They kept walking, the comfortable silence settling between them. Neither of them said it out loud, but in that moment, it felt like they had found something familiar again—something they both thought they had lost.
The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythmic crash filling the silence between them. The air smelled of salt and the faint scent of fresh seafood grilling somewhere nearby. The golden hues of the sunset reflected on the water, stretching out infinitely, as if the whole world had paused for them.
Jinsol stood beside Yoona, hands buried deep in the pockets of her coat, shoulders slightly tense. She had never been good at saying things like this, had never been one to spill her feelings so easily. But tonight, she had no choice.
“I only want you in this life.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, wasn’t forceful—it was steady, certain.
Yoona turned her head, the words hitting her harder than she expected. The way Jinsol looked at her, with that unwavering gaze, made her heart ache. She had dreamed of hearing something like this before, but now that she had, she didn’t know how to respond.
Jinsol took a slow breath. “I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care how different our lives are or how much time we’ve lost. I just know that if I don’t have you, then none of this—” she gestured at the vast sky, the ocean, the whole world around them “—none of this will ever feel right.”
Yoona swallowed hard. She wanted to believe those words. She wanted to let them sink into her heart, to wrap herself in the warmth of them. But fear still clung to her, whispering that nothing had changed, that love alone wouldn’t be enough.
“You say that now,” Yoona murmured, shifting her gaze back to the waves. “But things don’t always work out the way we want them to.”
Jinsol let out a breath, a soft, frustrated laugh escaping her lips. “Then let’s make it work.”
Yoona looked up again, expecting to see desperation in Jinsol’s eyes. Instead, she saw something else—something deeper. It wasn’t uncertainty or fear. It was conviction.
Jinsol took a step closer, closing the small space between them. The warmth of her body, even in the chilly night air, was unmistakable. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against Yoona’s wrist before sliding down to intertwine with her hand.
“I mean it,” Jinsol whispered, her voice softer now. “Stay with me. We’ll figure everything out. Together.”
Yoona’s fingers trembled slightly in Jinsol’s grasp.
“Jinsol…” Her voice was barely audible.
The ocean stretched out before them, endless and unknown, much like the future. The waves didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop moving forward no matter what obstacles lay ahead.
Jinsol squeezed Yoona’s hand gently. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “But if there’s even a small part of you that still wants this, still wants me… then don’t push me away.”
Yoona’s throat tightened. Of course, she wanted this. She always had. But what if love wasn’t enough? What if they tried and failed again?
Her hesitation stretched between them, fragile and heavy.
Then, finally, Yoona let out a shaky breath. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull away either.
Jinsol’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, as if she had been waiting for that one simple answer.
“Then let’s go home,” Jinsol said softly, and for the first time in weeks, Yoona felt like maybe—just maybe—home was something they could build together.
The moment they stepped inside, the air between them shifted—charged with something neither of them had spoken aloud but had carried for far too long.
"Yoona," Jinsol called, her voice firm yet trembling at the edges.
Yoona barely turned before Jinsol was there, closing the space between them in an instant, fingers grasping at her wrist, then her waist, then higher—like she was afraid she’d slip away if she let go.
Then, their lips met.
It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t shy. It was years of unspoken words, of longing, of pain, of love, crashing together all at once. Jinsol kissed her with a desperation that made Yoona’s breath catch, her hands sliding up to tangle in the fabric of Jinsol’s coat, pulling her in just as fiercely.
Jinsol backed her up against the wall, her body pressing firmly against Yoona’s, as if she could finally close every inch of distance that had ever existed between them. A quiet gasp escaped Yoona’s lips, but Jinsol didn’t stop—she only kissed her deeper, one hand cupping her face, thumb grazing along the curve of her cheek.
Yoona felt the warmth of Jinsol’s skin, the way her fingers trembled slightly despite how firm her hold was. It sent shivers down her spine, her heart pounding so loud she swore Jinsol could hear it.
Jinsol finally pulled back, just enough to look at her, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Her forehead pressed gently against Yoona’s, her eyes dark, searching, as if she was memorizing every detail of this moment.
"I missed you," Jinsol murmured, her voice husky, raw with emotion.
Yoona swallowed hard, her lips still tingling, her hands tightening around Jinsol’s coat as if grounding herself. She wanted to speak, to say something, but the words caught in her throat.
Instead, she moved, her fingers tracing up to Jinsol’s jaw, then into her hair, pulling her back in. This time, Yoona kissed her—not out of hesitation, not out of uncertainty, but because she needed to. Because she wanted to.
Jinsol melted into her, her grip tightening around Yoona’s waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The kiss was different this time—slower, deeper, as if they were learning each other all over again. Jinsol sighed against her lips, her hands running up Yoona’s sides, fingertips pressing lightly into her skin through the fabric of her shirt.
Time felt irrelevant. The world outside didn’t matter. All that existed was the warmth between them, the way Jinsol’s body fit so perfectly against hers, the way her lips felt like home.
Yoona could feel the tension in Jinsol’s muscles, the way she held her like she was afraid this moment would slip away.
“I’m here,” Yoona finally whispered against Jinsol’s lips, barely audible but enough for Jinsol to freeze for a second.
Jinsol pulled back just slightly, searching her face, her breath uneven.
“Stay,” Jinsol said, almost pleading, her hands still cradling Yoona’s face. “Please.”
Yoona’s heart clenched.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or if they were truly meant to exist in the same place, in the same life. But right now, in this moment, she wasn’t ready to let go either.
So instead of answering, she leaned in again, pressing her lips to Jinsol’s, letting the kiss say everything her heart couldn’t.
Their kisses never stopped, deepening with each step they took toward Yoona’s room. Jinsol’s hands roamed along Yoona’s back, pulling her impossibly closer as they stumbled through the hallway, their breaths mixing, their hearts pounding in sync.
Yoona felt her legs hit the edge of the bed, but before she could steady herself, Jinsol was already there, holding her, guiding her down with gentle hands yet undeniable urgency. Their lips parted only for fleeting seconds, enough to catch their breaths, enough for Jinsol to whisper Yoona’s name like a prayer.
One by one, layers of fabric slipped away, discarded carelessly onto the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment. Jinsol's fingers traced along Yoona’s skin, hesitant at first, as if memorizing the feeling—soft, warm, real. Yoona shivered under her touch, her own hands finding their way to Jinsol’s shoulders, her grip tightening as if to ground herself.
The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows across the room, highlighting the way Jinsol looked at her—eyes dark, filled with something unspoken yet understood. She leaned down again, pressing a lingering kiss to Yoona’s lips, then lower—to her jaw, her collarbone—taking her time, savoring every moment as if making up for the years lost between them.
Yoona closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the sensation, in Jinsol’s touch, in the quiet yet overwhelming emotion hanging between them. Every kiss, every caress felt like a promise—one that neither of them dared to say aloud yet both understood perfectly.
As the night stretched on, the only thing that mattered was this—the warmth of Jinsol’s body against hers, the way their fingers intertwined, the unspoken words written in every touch, every breath, every heartbeat.
As their lips parted for a moment, gasping for breath, Jinsol cupped Yoona’s face, her thumb gently tracing over her cheek. "Tell me to stop," she whispered, her voice husky yet tender. "And I will."
Yoona’s fingers gripped Jinsol’s shirt, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "Don’t stop," she murmured, barely above a whisper, but the certainty in her voice made Jinsol’s heart race.
Jinsol kissed her again, softer this time, as if savoring the words Yoona had just said. "I missed you," she admitted between kisses, her hands roaming up Yoona’s sides, feeling the warmth of her skin. "So much that it hurt."
Yoona exhaled sharply, her hands slipping beneath the fabric of Jinsol’s shirt, her touch sending shivers down Jinsol’s spine. "Then don’t leave me again," she said, her voice raw with emotion.
Jinsol pulled back just enough to look into Yoona’s eyes, her own filled with something deep and unwavering. "I won’t," she promised. "Not this time."
Their lips met again, desperate, hungry, filled with years of longing. Jinsol pressed Yoona back against the bed, her hands never leaving her body, her kisses trailing down her neck.
"You’re shaking," Jinsol murmured against her skin.
Yoona let out a breathy laugh, tilting her head to give Jinsol more access. "It’s your fault."
Jinsol smirked, pressing a kiss over Yoona’s racing pulse. "Then let me take responsibility," she whispered before claiming her lips once again, deepening the kiss, sealing her promise in every touch.
The morning light streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Yoona stirred first, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, she just lay there, feeling the warmth beside her, the steady rhythm of Jinsol’s breathing.
Jinsol was still asleep, her arm draped lazily over Yoona’s waist. Her face looked peaceful, her usual sharp features softened by sleep. Yoona turned her head slightly, just watching her—taking in the rare sight of Jinsol so relaxed, her dark hair slightly tousled against the pillow.
She felt a strange warmth in her chest. It wasn’t just comfort; it was something deeper. Something she had missed for too long.
Carefully, Yoona shifted, trying to get up, but the moment she moved, Jinsol’s arm tightened around her waist.
"Where do you think you're going?" Jinsol’s voice was husky with sleep, her eyes still closed as she pulled Yoona closer.
Yoona swallowed, suddenly aware of how close they were, of how their bare skin brushed under the covers. "Nowhere," she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.
Jinsol finally cracked her eyes open, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips. "Good," she said, voice still thick with sleep, her fingers tracing small circles on Yoona’s back. "Because I don’t plan on letting you go anywhere just yet."
Yoona rolled her eyes, though her face was already heating up. "You’re so clingy in the morning."
Jinsol chuckled, her voice deep and warm. "Only with you."
There was a pause, a quiet moment between them where nothing needed to be said. Then Jinsol leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Yoona’s forehead, lingering for a second longer than necessary.
"Good morning," she whispered against her skin.
Yoona closed her eyes, feeling her heart squeeze at the tenderness in Jinsol’s voice. "...Good morning," she finally replied, allowing herself to melt into Jinsol’s embrace for just a little while longer.
They moved through the morning slowly, savoring the warmth between them. After showering—each taking turns, despite Jinsol’s teasing suggestion to save water together—they sat at the dining table for lunch. Jinsol had cooked, as usual, effortlessly moving through Yoona’s kitchen as if it were her own.
Yoona glanced down at her plate, taking slow bites. The meal was warm and familiar, just like Jinsol’s presence. It felt too easy, too natural, as if they had been living like this for years.
Jinsol, sitting across from her, was quiet for a while, simply watching Yoona eat. Then, as if she had been holding it in for too long, she finally spoke.
"Come to Seoul with me," Jinsol said, her voice steady but soft.
Yoona froze, her chopsticks hovering mid-air. She slowly lifted her gaze to meet Jinsol’s, searching her face for any hesitation—but there was none.
Jinsol leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes fixed on Yoona. "I mean it. Come with me."
Yoona swallowed, setting her chopsticks down. Her chest tightened, the familiar weight of reality pressing down on her. "Jinsol…" she exhaled, already feeling torn before she could even form a response.
Jinsol continued, her voice laced with something almost desperate. "I know you left Seoul to get away from everything. I know life is easier here for you. But things are different now. I—" she hesitated, then took a breath. "I want to be with you, Yoona. Not just like this, not just for a few days. I want us to wake up together every day."
Yoona clenched her fists under the table. "It’s not that simple."
"It can be." Jinsol reached across the table, taking Yoona’s hand in hers. "You don’t have to make a decision now. But I need you to know that I’m serious about this. About us."
Yoona’s heart pounded against her ribs. Jinsol’s hand was warm, grounding. But still, doubt crept in, whispering in the back of her mind. Could she really return to Seoul? Could she leave the life she had built here?
Jinsol squeezed her hand gently, her thumb brushing over Yoona’s knuckles. "Just think about it," she said softly. "That’s all I’m asking."
Yoona nodded, though her thoughts were anything but certain.
Jinsol leaned back in her chair, studying Yoona carefully. She could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way her fingers fidgeted slightly against the table.
"You don’t have to work at a hospital," Jinsol said suddenly.
Yoona blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"In Seoul," Jinsol continued, tilting her head. "If that’s what’s stopping you. You don’t have to go back to working at a hospital if you don’t want to."
Yoona frowned, her grip tightening around her chopsticks. "Jinsol, being a doctor is my life. It’s what I worked for. I can’t just—"
"I’m not saying you have to give it up," Jinsol interrupted gently. "I just mean… maybe you don’t have to work somewhere that drains you. Maybe there’s another way. Something that lets you still help people but at your own pace."
Yoona fell silent.
She had always thought of medicine as an all-or-nothing career. She had to either give her whole life to it or walk away completely. But Jinsol was offering her a different perspective—one she had never allowed herself to consider.
"Seoul has private clinics, research opportunities… You could even open your own practice one day if you wanted," Jinsol continued, watching Yoona’s face closely. "I just don’t want you to feel trapped by it. You deserve to live, too, Yoona. Not just work."
Yoona exhaled slowly. The idea of leaving the hospital had never crossed her mind, but the thought of working somewhere less demanding, somewhere that didn’t consume her every waking moment… it was tempting.
Jinsol reached for her hand again, her touch warm and grounding. "I just want you to be happy. And if that means something different from what you originally planned, then that’s okay."
Yoona looked down at their joined hands, her heart aching with how much Jinsol cared. She didn’t have an answer yet. But for the first time, she was starting to consider the possibility of a future in Seoul—one that didn’t feel suffocating.
Yoona let Jinsol’s words settle in the air between them, the weight of the conversation pressing against her chest. She had spent years dedicating her life to medicine, pushing through exhaustion and endless shifts, believing that was the only way to prove her worth as a doctor. But now, here was Jinsol, offering a different path—one that didn't feel like drowning.
She lowered her chopsticks, staring at the plate in front of her but not really seeing it. “Jinsol… I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know anything other than hospital work. It’s been my entire life.”
Jinsol leaned forward, her expression gentle but unwavering. “I know, princess. But you’re allowed to want something different. You’re allowed to live for yourself, too.”
Yoona swallowed hard. She had always told herself that saving lives was her purpose, that if she wasn’t working, she wasn’t useful. But hadn’t she run away to this small town in the first place because the pressure had become too much? Hadn’t she spent sleepless nights questioning if she could keep going?
“What if I regret it?” she asked softly, barely above a whisper.
Jinsol’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, grounding her. “Then we figure it out together. But you don’t have to make any decisions now. I just want you to know there’s another way. You don’t have to choose between being a doctor and being happy.”
Yoona exhaled, her mind racing. Could she really leave behind the structure of hospital work? Would she still be a doctor if she wasn’t buried in overnight shifts and back-to-back emergencies?
Jinsol tilted her head, watching her carefully. “You told me you left Seoul to find peace… Did you?”
Yoona’s breath hitched.
Did she?
She had run away, yes. Escaped the noise, the endless demands, the overwhelming pressure of always needing to be perfect. But had she really found peace?
She glanced at Jinsol—the woman who had stormed back into her life with warmth, stubbornness, and unwavering care. The woman who had held her while she cried, fed her when she was too weak to eat, and promised she would stay.
Maybe peace wasn’t just about leaving things behind. Maybe it was about choosing the right things to keep.
She let out a shaky sigh, meeting Jinsol’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Jinsol.”
Jinsol smiled softly and brushed a loose strand of hair behind Yoona’s ear. “Then don’t decide yet. Just come with me. Stay by my side. We’ll figure it out, step by step.”
Yoona didn’t respond right away, but for the first time, she didn’t immediately shut the idea down. Maybe—just maybe—there was a different kind of future waiting for her in Seoul. And maybe, with Jinsol, it wouldn’t feel so scary.
—
Jinsol stood by the door, her bags packed and keys in hand, but her eyes were locked onto Yoona, who was gripping her wrist tightly. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the weight of the upcoming distance pressing down on them.
“I have to go, princess,” Jinsol murmured softly, though she made no effort to pull away.
Yoona’s fingers curled tighter around her wrist. “I know…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jinsol searched Yoona’s face, memorizing every little detail—the way her lips trembled slightly, the way her brows furrowed in that stubborn way she always had when she was holding back emotions.
“I’ll call you the moment I arrive,” Jinsol promised, brushing her thumb over Yoona’s knuckles. “And every night after that. I don’t care how late it is, I want to hear your voice.”
Yoona swallowed hard and nodded. “Every night,” she repeated, as if confirming it to herself.
Jinsol let out a small chuckle. “I’ll probably annoy you with how often I call.”
Yoona shook her head. “You won’t.”
The silence stretched again. Jinsol sighed, hating the way the air felt heavy between them. “Come with me, Yoona,” she said again, even though she knew the answer.
“I don’t want to leave you here.”
Yoona looked away, her grip still firm.
“Not yet…”
Jinsol nodded, her fingers trailing up Yoona’s arm before cupping her cheek gently. “Then I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”
Finally, after what felt like forever, Yoona loosened her grip, letting her hand slide down Jinsol’s arm before finally letting go.
Jinsol hesitated for just a second longer before stepping outside. The moment she did, Yoona bit her lip, holding back the overwhelming urge to call her back.
“I’ll see you soon,” Jinsol said, giving her one last look before heading toward her car.
Yoona stood at the door, watching as Jinsol drove off, her heart aching in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the car disappeared down the road, she held onto the promise they made—every night, no matter what.
The days blended into weeks, and though they were miles apart, Jinsol and Yoona stayed connected through their nightly calls. Jinsol returned to the familiar rhythm of La Mer, overseeing the kitchen, tasting dishes, and managing the restaurant. But no matter how busy she was, no matter how many guests she served, there was always a moment when she would glance at her phone, waiting for the night to fall so she could hear Yoona’s voice.
Yoona, on the other hand, resumed her life at the hospital. It felt strange at first—after everything that happened, after falling sick, after being taken care of by Jinsol, after the night they spent together—returning to her daily routine almost made it seem like nothing had changed. But something had. The small town she once found comfort in suddenly felt a little emptier, and she found herself looking forward to Jinsol’s voice at the end of each day.
Their calls always started the same way.
“Did you eat today?” Jinsol would ask without fail.
“I did.” Yoona would respond, sometimes teasing, “I’m not a child, you know.”
“You barely ate when I was there. So yes, I’ll keep asking.”
Yoona would scoff, but deep down, she liked the attention.
Sometimes they talked for hours, and other times, they just stayed on the line in silence—Jinsol listening to Yoona’s soft breathing, and Yoona listening to the distant sounds of the city in the background of Jinsol’s call. It was these quiet moments that made the distance between them feel less unbearable.
One night, as Yoona lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she heard Jinsol sigh softly through the phone.
“I hate this.”
Yoona blinked. “Hate what?”
“Being away from you.” Jinsol's voice was quiet, vulnerable. “I don’t like only talking to you through a phone. I want to see you. Every day.”
Yoona swallowed hard. She knew what Jinsol was really asking.
There was a long silence before Jinsol spoke again, softer this time. “Do you miss me?”
Yoona closed her eyes. Her fingers curled into her blanket, gripping it tightly before she finally whispered, “I do.”
Jinsol chuckled, but there was a warmth to it, like she was relieved. “That’s good. Because I miss you too. A lot.”
Yoona turned on her side, hugging a pillow, wishing it was Jinsol instead. “You’re dramatic.”
“Only for you.”
The conversation lulled into a comfortable quiet. Yoona could hear the faint clinking of glass—Jinsol was probably drinking tea like she always did before bed.
Then, almost hesitantly, Jinsol spoke again. “Have you thought about my offer?”
Yoona pressed her lips together. She had been thinking about it. Every day.
Moving to Seoul. Leaving the town. Leaving her job. Starting over. With Jinsol.
It was overwhelming to think about. She had left Seoul for a reason—to escape, to breathe. But now, the idea of going back didn’t seem as suffocating as it once did. Because now, she wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m still thinking.” Yoona admitted.
Jinsol didn’t push, didn’t sigh in disappointment. Instead, she simply said, “Okay. Just know that no matter what you choose, I’ll wait for you.”
Yoona felt her chest tighten. Jinsol always had a way of making her feel safe, even from a distance.
“I know.”
She fell asleep to the sound of Jinsol’s steady breathing on the other end of the line. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she already knew what her answer would be.
—
La Mer pulsed with energy that night, the restaurant buzzing with an unstoppable momentum. The sound of sizzling pans filled the kitchen, accompanied by the rhythmic chopping of knives and the occasional call of orders being sent out. The air was thick with the intoxicating aroma of butter, garlic, and freshly grilled seafood, blending seamlessly with the distant hum of conversations from the packed dining area. Every table was full, and outside, a line of eager customers stretched down the street, waiting for a chance to taste the renowned dishes of Chef Bae Jinsol.
Despite the overwhelming rush, Jinsol was the calm in the storm. She moved with an effortless grace, her hands steady as she worked through each dish with expert precision. Her movements were quick, calculated—no wasted steps, no unnecessary motions. It was as if the chaos of the kitchen only sharpened her focus. Flames flared high from the pans, oil crackled, and yet she remained composed, flipping fillets of fish with ease, spooning sauces onto plates with an artist’s touch, and making sure every dish left the pass at the perfect temperature.
Her staff couldn’t help but notice the shift in her.
“She’s unreal tonight,” one of the junior cooks whispered as he watched Jinsol expertly sear a scallop, her wrist flicking with practiced finesse.
“I know,” another agreed, eyes darting toward her. “She was always good, but now? It’s like she’s even more in control.”
“It’s different from before,” one of the senior chefs added under his breath. “She used to be great because she had something to prove. Now… it’s like she’s cooking with a purpose.”
The hushed murmurs of admiration were cut short by Jinsol’s firm voice.
“Less talking. Focus.”
Immediately, everyone snapped back into action, returning to their stations with renewed intensity. But the thought lingered in their minds.
What had changed?
Jinsol wasn’t just cooking—she was commanding the kitchen with a confidence that went beyond skill. There was something driving her, something personal, something deeper.
And for those who had worked under her long enough, they could guess.
She had found her balance again.
She had found her reason.
As Jinsol wiped her hands on a clean towel, one of her staff approached her, a cautious but excited look on their face.
“Chef,” they called out over the noise of the kitchen. “Someone’s here asking for you.”
Jinsol barely looked up as she plated the final garnish on a dish. “Tell them I’m busy. If it’s a VIP, let them know I’ll come out when service slows down.”
The staff hesitated. “I think you’ll want to see this one.”
That made Jinsol pause. She raised a brow before handing off the finished plate to be taken to the dining room. With a quick pat on her apron, she stepped out of the kitchen, weaving past servers balancing trays of fresh seafood and fine wine.
As soon as she reached the entrance, she stopped in her tracks.
There, standing near the hostess podium, was Yoona.
The sight of her made Jinsol’s breath hitch. She was wearing a soft beige coat, her dark hair tucked behind her ears, and in her hands—delicate yet firm—was a single flower. A quiet smile played at her lips, her eyes searching for Jinsol’s reaction.
Jinsol’s entire body tensed as she stood frozen in place, staring at Yoona as if she were a dream about to slip through her fingers. The kitchen’s heat still clung to her skin, but the sight of Yoona standing there—looking calm yet uncertain, standing beneath the soft golden glow of La Mer’s lights—sent a different kind of warmth through her.
The noise of the restaurant buzzed around them. Servers weaved through tables, the clinking of glasses and quiet hum of conversations filling the space. But Jinsol heard none of it. Her gaze was locked onto Yoona, onto the single flower she held out, onto the way her fingers curled around the stem like she was scared of letting go.
Jinsol swallowed. “Yoona…” Her voice barely carried over the noise, rough with disbelief.
Yoona took a step forward, her coat shifting gently with the movement. “I thought you might need something to brighten up your busy night.” She offered the flower with both hands now, her fingers brushing lightly against Jinsol’s.
Jinsol hesitated before reaching out, her touch cautious, as if afraid Yoona would disappear if she moved too quickly. When their fingers met, even for a brief second, a shiver ran up Jinsol’s spine. She closed her fingers around the delicate flower, feeling the coolness of the petals between her calloused fingertips.
She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Is this real?” she murmured, her voice quieter now, laced with something raw, something vulnerable.
Yoona’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “Why don’t you find out?”
Jinsol studied her face—those familiar eyes that once looked at her with so much love, that once held pain because of her. Now, they held something else. A hesitance, yes. But also… hope.
Jinsol let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head as she looked down at the flower in her hand. It was a simple thing. Nothing extravagant, nothing rare. But the fact that it was from Yoona made it the most precious thing in the world.
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, until she could catch the faintest trace of Yoona’s scent—clean, soft, familiar. “You know, you have terrible timing,” Jinsol muttered, but her tone was anything but annoyed.
Yoona tilted her head. “I thought chefs liked surprises.”
Jinsol finally allowed herself to smile. A real, genuine smile. “Not when they make my heart stop in the middle of service.”
Yoona shrugged lightly, her voice dipping into something softer. “Well, I’ve always been good at making you lose control.”
Jinsol’s breath hitched.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The restaurant moved around them—diners eating, waiters serving, glasses clinking—but the world felt like it had shrunk to just the two of them.
Jinsol clenched her fingers around the flower. She could feel the sharp thorns beneath the petals, but she welcomed the sting. It grounded her.
“Come with me,” she said suddenly, her voice steadier now. “Let’s talk.”
Yoona blinked, surprised by the urgency in Jinsol’s voice. But she nodded.
Jinsol turned to her staff, who had been sneaking glances at them from the kitchen doorway. “I’m stepping out,” she called over her shoulder, already leading Yoona toward the restaurant’s side entrance.
One of the chefs, a younger one, gaped. “But, Chef—”
“I trust you,” Jinsol interrupted smoothly, pushing the door open and stepping into the cool night air with Yoona beside her.
The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the chaos inside. It was just them now, standing beneath the city lights, the flower still in Jinsol’s grip.
She turned to Yoona, taking a shaky breath. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
Jinsol stood in stunned silence, the cool night air pressing against her skin, but all she could focus on was Yoona—on the way she stood there, eyes steady, shoulders squared, looking at her like she had finally made peace with something that had once terrified her.
Yoona exhaled softly, her gaze never wavering. "I'm moving to Seoul," she said, voice calm but firm. "With you."
Jinsol’s breath hitched. The words felt unreal, like an impossible dream she had forced herself to stop hoping for. She searched Yoona’s face, waiting for hesitation, for second thoughts—but there were none.
"You..." Jinsol started, then let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're serious?"
Yoona nodded once. "I've thought about it long enough."
Jinsol's fingers tightened around the flower Yoona had given her. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure Yoona could hear it. "But you—your life here, the hospital, everything..."
Yoona looked down for a moment, exhaling before meeting Jinsol’s gaze again. "I ran away from Seoul to find peace," she admitted. "But the truth is, peace wasn’t about where I was. It was about who I was with."
Jinsol swallowed hard. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
Yoona stepped closer, the warmth of her presence chasing away the lingering chill in the air. "You once asked me to stay," she murmured. "And I ran. This time... I'm choosing to stay by your side."
Jinsol let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. "You're going to be the death of me," she muttered, but her voice was thick with emotion.
Yoona's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "You can handle it."
Jinsol exhaled sharply, then, without another word, pulled Yoona into her arms. She held her tight, burying her face in Yoona’s shoulder, breathing her in.
"You're really coming with me?" Jinsol whispered.
Yoona nodded against her. "Yeah," she said softly. "I'm really coming with you."
Jinsol squeezed her eyes shut, a slow grin spreading across her lips. "Then I swear," she murmured, "I'll make sure you never regret it."
As soon as they stepped into the apartment, Jinsol kicked off her shoes and immediately started talking, her excitement bubbling over.
“So, I was thinking—maybe we could set up a small coffee station in the kitchen. You love your morning coffee, and I could learn to make it exactly how you like.” She walked further inside, already picturing it in her head. “And oh! We should get a bigger couch. The one I have is nice, but if we’re going to be lazy and watch movies together, we need something cozier. Maybe one of those big L-shaped ones, or a recliner? What do you think?”
Yoona quietly followed her, listening as Jinsol continued without a pause. Jinsol was moving around the apartment, already adjusting things in her mind, like she was trying to shape the space into something that felt more like them, together.
“Oh, and your books!” Jinsol spun around to face her, eyes shining. “We need a bookshelf. A huge one. I know you like to read before bed, so we should set something up in the bedroom too, right next to your side.”
Yoona had barely said a word since they got inside, but she didn’t need to. She just watched, her fingers absentmindedly reaching out to brush through Jinsol’s hair as she continued rambling.
Jinsol barely noticed at first, too caught up in all the plans she had in her head. “And your clothes. We’ll need more closet space. I can clear out a section, or maybe we should get a bigger one—” She trailed off when Yoona’s nails lightly scratched against her scalp, her breath hitching slightly at the unexpected touch.
She sighed, leaning into Yoona’s hand, and for the first time that night, she went quiet.
Yoona chuckled softly. “You really planned everything already, haven’t you?”
Jinsol turned her head slightly to look at her, lips curling into a sheepish smile. “Of course. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
Yoona tilted her head, studying her. Jinsol’s eyes were filled with so much warmth, so much hope—it made her chest feel tight.
Jinsol reached up, taking Yoona’s hand from her hair and holding it between her own. Her fingers gently traced over Yoona’s knuckles. “I just want you to feel at home with me. That’s all.”
Yoona swallowed, her heart pounding a little harder in her chest. It wasn’t just about living together. Jinsol was trying to build a life with her, trying to make sure she had everything she could ever need, without Yoona even having to ask.
She didn’t say anything, but she took a step closer, their hands still intertwined. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Jinsol’s forehead.
Jinsol exhaled, squeezing her hand.
Yoona pulled back slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I already do.”