The first time Ryujin and Chaeryeong had met, it felt exactly like how Taylor Swift had described it in her song—all along it felt like there was some invisible string tying them to each other. From the very start, they were already part of each other’s group of friends, exchanging casual and small conversations from time to time. They were trainees too, from the same company, driven by the same passion and love for performing. They often find themselves enjoying a coffee along with their common friends too, after a tiring training, at cafes around the neighborhood. And unsurprisingly, they both love attending the dancing and singing competitions, either as a spectator or a participant, and almost always, they stumble upon each other. They both knew that there were too many instances for it to be a coincidence anymore. It was as if they simply unconsciously gravitated towards each other, drawn by an invisible thread, every single time. Their personalities are a complete 360 of each other yet completely complement one another, like yin and yang. Their chemistry was undeniable, even their friends would say so. The attraction was there. They wouldn’t lie. So, when Chaeryeong finally decided to risk it, she argues it was the best decision she has ever made. Ryujin thanks her for it.
The soft pull of inevitability that tugs them ever so lightly, now eventually dulled into a lullaby that fades into your distant ears as you fall asleep. Light yet palpable. Invisible yet calmingly still surrounding them at every step of their relationship.
In the early days of their relationship, their love was the kind of love that everyone around them envied. It was effortless, needless to say. Their days were filled with laughter after a stressful day, finding the much needed comfort in each other’s presence. It was filled with soft whispers in the quiet corners of the room, stealing glances and small meaningful smiles thrown at each other when no one seemed to be looking. They were filled to the brim with all of those moments that felt like time had stopped, and everyone faded into a blur.
But like all of things, like how their relationship was born out of inevitability, complications came knocking on their doors with certainty they cannot simply ignore.
Ryujin’s career began to finally take off after she debuted. She dazzled people left and right with her performance that left everyone in their spot gasping for air yet wanting for more. Her talent shone brighter than anyone could ever have imagined, even herself. Her popularity grew strongly and consistently, and so did the demands of her schedule. She started constantly traveling. Her time rotated between rehearsals, performances, guesting, interviews, and shoots. It was the price for the fame that was bestowed upon her. Chaeryeong, on the other hand, divulged on a different path; where Ryujin debuted, she didn’t. Her passion for performing lies off the stage—choreography, but her talent wasn’t breaking through as quickly as she hoped it would. She was still stuck finding her way to reach her dreams, and it was filled with multiple rejections her heart could even handle. Before she knew it, she soon found herself caught between making it through, keeping her passion alive, and her desire to be the support Ryujin needed. It was pulling her all at once.
The contrast between their priorities and realities eventually started to take its toll. The distance becoming unbearable, both physical and emotional. It was too much and so much. It was draining. Ryujin’s life as a star was as busy as one could imagine. She was often too tired to talk after her long days and when they did speak, Chaeryeong was always left with a feeling that their conversations were simply part of her routine. She felt it ever so slowly how she was starting to fade into the background of Ryujin’s hectic life. Chaeryeong swears with all her being that she tried to understand. Her patience was impeccable. Her love remained constant and strong. Yet, the loneliness began to gnaw at her heart, slowly eating away whatever was left of her. She knew it then, that Ryujin was slipping further away from her, and she didn’t know if she even had the strength to hold on anymore.
One night, just as Ryujin had returned from a 7-month-long tour, Chaeryeong finally decided to break it for her. They needed to have a talk, one that could not be postponed much longer.
“Ryu…baby?” Chaeryeong softly called out to her. It sounded foreign to her lips, a reminder of how much they’ve grown apart in the past months. “Can we talk?” She asked, her voice steady, a complete contrast to her heart pounding erratically on her chest.
Ryujin subtly froze, her hand midway through reaching for her clothes stopped and dropped to her side before turning to face her. She took a good look at her and her eyes immediately softened. She could only nod and follow her to sit in their living room.
“Ryujin—baby,” Chaeryeong began after some time of just looking at Ryujin. She took her time to take her all in. “You know this is coming, right?” And Ryujin nodded, which made her smile a sad smile. “I tried my best, I really did,” she whispered, fighting hard not to cry. “But, I feel like we’re drifting apart. You’re not here and believe me, that didn’t matter. I can manage the distance. But when you’re here, I can feel it, I can see it in your eyes, Ryu…you’re barely here. You’re somewhere else.”
Ryujin’s eyes softened, tears glistening. She was trying to hold her gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of guilt that washed over her. Eventually, she looked away. She took a deep breath while her hand ran through her hair. “I’m sorry, Chaery—I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.
Chaeryeong shook her head, and this time, her eyes mirrored Ryujin’s. “But you are hurting me, Ryu,” she told her. “I can only offer so much without losing myself. I can’t keep on waiting for you to come back to me when you’re always running off again, when I don’t know when you’ll run off again.”
“I don’t know how much more I can take just trying to hold on to you when I can barely feel your hold on me,” she added, her voice cracking and her tears finally staining her cheeks.
Ryujin’s hand frantically reached out to wipe the tears she was shedding. The sight was breaking her heart, gripping her with guilt. She cupped her cheeks, and though her eyes blurred, with her own tears flowing, she looked at her as if she was still all that mattered. “I’m sorry, Chaery. I can only offer my apology,” she breathed out. “I never meant for you to feel like this. I love you, that never changed, but—“ taking a pause and offering a strained smile, “but my world is spinning faster than I can keep up with. One wrong step, and I’d lose myself in it completely.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose you either.” Her eyes pleaded. “I just don’t know how to make this work,” she whispered, before her arms slid down to rest on Chaeryeong’s hands, holding it firmly against hers.
Her words hung heavily in the air. The tension was thick, and for a long moment, neither spoke. It’s just their silent tears, heavy breathing and intertwined hands that could be lined out from the palpable silence. They both knew what was coming, what needed to be said, but neither of them was ready to say it out loud.
Finally, it was Chaeryeong who whispered the words that had been looming over them. “Maybe it’s time to let go, Ryu. Maybe this is for the best.”
Ryujin couldn’t speak or counter her because, deep down, she knew this too is what they needed. This too is also what she wanted.
The break up that came afterward wasn’t dramatic nor was it filled with angry words. No. It was quiet. It was as painful as it can get. It was filled with an aching that left them wondering if it would leave a physical scar that would memorialize the immense pain. Their break up was filled with a gnawing sense of finality in their relationship. Ryujin needed her space to chase and keep her dreams, while Chaeryeong needed space to find herself that she had lost during the course of their relationship. She needed to be free from the relationship she was carrying alone. Though their love was real, they both knew neither could still keep on pretending that they were still okay.
Once again, inevitability won.
For weeks, they didn’t speak, nor had the best of emotional state to do so. Their friends were in complete shock at how they turned out but soon felt worried as they watched the two struggle to get back to their own groove, to adjust. It was, after all, years of being together.
Soon enough, they started moving in the direction of their worlds. Ryujin threw herself into her work, keeping herself busy with practice whenever she was given free time. An attempt to drown herself in the noise of the world she belongs to, hoping it will silence the wretched echoing in her heart. She tried to keep herself busy and constantly moving, but still, at the end of the day, when exhaustion faded, the emptiness started to fill her, over and over again. She would reminisce about how Chaeryeong’s laughter sounded wonderful in her ears, how her bright and warm eyes greeted her each time, and even the way her hands would softly caress and pat her cheek whenever she would sport a pout. She missed her and all the moments that felt so mundane, but in reality, it was all that mattered. It was a vicious cycle with no end that she was in.
Chaeryeong, too, struggled. To the point that even breathing became an exhausting chore for her. Though it took her longer, she eventually found her own footing. She threw herself into her career, dancing and dancing away the incompleteness she was feeling, hoping the physical exhaustion would somehow help ease the pain. She wanted this, yet she didn’t know if the pain she was feeling was from the pain of losing Ryujin or the frustration that they couldn’t make it work. Maybe it was from the self-blame she put herself into, for letting go and not trying even more. Her friends saw how she changed. The once brightness she radiated now turned into a heaviness that clung so painfully at her every step. As if missing Ryujin was not enough, every now and then, Chaeryeong would see Ryujin’s face on the television screen or at that big billboard the bus passes by every single time. She would hear her name in passing, from students gushing over her newest video or from someone who’s undeniably a fan of her. Whenever it happens, it always took her breath away, like a cut in her chest that’s being ripped open and she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to.
Before either of them knew, several months had already passed. Soon, it was the holiday season.
It was the last day of the year when they saw each other again. Chaeryeong had finally given in to her friends’ invite to join their small party to celebrate New Year’s countdown. She had been brushing them off for quite a long time, so, she figured entertaining them now wouldn’t hurt, right? It didn’t. But to her surprise, Ryujin too, was there. Her attendance came in as a shock to all of them. After all, she was a hot shot with a schedule longer than all the hours of the day. Chaeryeong was quick to mask her surprise because, truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the party her friend arranged. But maybe, perhaps, she was keen on the idea that their paths would never cross again after their break up, and seeing her after all those gruesome months, looking more dashing, more charming, yet somehow still the same as she remembered, made her heart skip a beat.
Neither made a move to reach for the other, to initiate a conversation, but Ryujin didn’t dare to peel her eyes away from her. For the longest time, she had longed for and missed her, and this is the only time she’s finally seen her. She was drinking the sight of her all in, despite the distance they shared. Taking note of how she looked, how she smiled and how she laughed. Her ears would perk up at the mention of her name, she would listen in with full attention.
The rest of the evening passed by like that. Neither knew how to act, and so they settled for exchanging polite smiles from time to time. The awkwardness was so palpable that anyone who saw them could feel the physical suffocation of the tension they radiated. It was simply as if the ground they both stand upon had shifted beneath them, and the different worlds they belong to was a glaring wall that separates the two of them. A space that has now become insurmountable.
Yet as the night deepened, something eventually shifted. Perhaps it was the collection of laughter from their friends from the stories being passed on over a glass of wine, or perhaps it was the warmth of the room, the comfort of being with their friends, and how it was somewhat reminiscent of how they used to be in the past. Perhaps it was both, or maybe it was the realization that the time they spent being apart had allowed them to grow, and yet the erratic beating of their hearts was the proof that they never stopped loving one another.
Minutes before New Year officially started, the two of them found themselves alone on the rooftop—a place they often run to after a tiring training session back in the day. Finally, away from the noise of the party, Chaeryeong found herself enjoying the sound of the still-awake city, and its vibrant lights. With her breath fogging the cold air, her thoughts raced relentlessly, even more when Ryujin stood beside her. Their proximity close, but not too close. Not close enough.
It was Ryujin who broke the silence enveloping them. It was Ryujin who took the step to close the gap they forced upon each other after the break up. It was Ryujin this time. “I missed you,” she said quietly, her voice a little unsteady and smelling a tad bit of the wine from the party. “I didn’t think I would, but I did. Painfully so.”
Chaeryeong’s heart thudded. It was so loud she could even feel it in her ears. The cold air wasn’t of help either, it made her flushed cheeks more visible. With a shaky breath as she stubbornly stared ahead, refusing to look at her, she reached for the railing, seeking support. “I did too,” she finally let out. “I missed you too. More than I should have.”
The air went frigid with the silence that ensued. Unsaid words stuck at the back of their throats. There was so much to be said but neither knew where to simply start. The dawning of the new year is within reach and each passing second, the cold night started getting a little warmer and warmer. Ryujin finally took a step closer, her face shedding away her mask, and bearing herself in complete vulnerable state in front of her. “You’re here. You’re within my reach,” she said, words carefully being cradled by her tongue. “I don’t want to lose sight of you again, Chaery. I don’t want to lose you again.”
Chaeryeong turned to fully face her, her eyes meeting Ryujin’s, and for the first time, she saw the same longing reflected in her eyes. It warmed her heart. “I don’t want to lose you either. My days didn’t made sense without you in it, Ryu,” she admitted in a quivering voice. “I…can, can you hold onto to me this time? Can you do that? So, I don’t have to let go for us…” she added in a whisper, her eyes pleading.
“I won’t let go, I promise,” Ryujin firmly said and wasted no time to hold her hand against hers. “Not this time.”
Lost in the eyes of each other, the sound of loud countdowns and boisterous cheering from the several rooms below began to fill their ears, just as the sound of fireworks began to echo in the distance, signaling that the new year had come. The night sky became a canvass as it exploded with different vivid colors, but Chaeryeong thought it was nothing compared to the way Ryujin looked underneath those colors. The way the lights reflected in Ryujin’s eyes, and those bright colors, made a perfect picture she wanted to frame. She then breathed a small laugh and smiled. She leaned to rest her head on Ryujin’s shoulders, and snaked her arms on her waist to pull her close. “Thank you for coming home,” she sighed.
Ryujin hugged her back and rested her chin on top of her head. “I’m glad to be home.”
And in that moment, the love they thought had already ended started burning again, even brighter than the fireworks that painted the sky. Nothing mattered, not even the faint noise of people celebrating the new year. All that mattered was the two of them and the feeling of finally being home to each other.
They say old habits die hard. Ryujin and Chaeryeong would have to agree, because just months after getting back together, they found themselves slipping back into their old patterns. That goes without saying that they didn’t try, because they did. They made sure to talk every day, no matter the busy days. They made sure to go on dates, or even just spend time together in the comfort of their home. They did try their hardest but just trying wasn’t enough. The different lives they live weren’t done pulling them apart.
With a renewed sense of self and off-the-charts inspiration, Ryujin’s career shot off with even more intensity as a byproduct. Her schedule had become a whirlwind once more—endless rehearsals, photo shoots, back-to-back recording sessions, and new opportunities on the international stage. Safe to say, the world had become her stage, but soon she started being torn into two. Each time she tried to make time for Chaeryeong, a new conflict would arise, a new task she had to prioritize. But it wasn’t that that took her away from Chaeryeong this time. No. It was when their relationship gained attraction from the media, putting both of their private lives out in the open for the public to digest. Faced with having no time for her, unable to even protect her from the scrutiny of the media, the guilt started eating her up, slowly but greatly.
Chaeryeong stood her ground, at least she tried to, because she swore she would not let go of her easily. Not again. So, while everything unfolded, she kept her focus intact as she started to take on more demanding activities and began training with world-renowned choreographers. She started rising, and making a name. Her talent and skills spoke for her, but the more she achieved, the more she started wavering, because surprisingly, it put her world a tad bit closer to Ryujin’s and the never-ending scrutiny she faced from the media and the public started wearing her out. Their world may have grown closer, but it was still far from being the same. While she chased her dreams relentlessly, she had to juggle dealing with being criticized for everything she did because she was her girlfriend.
Eventually, the constant communication they tried to uphold became less frequent. Their once long conversations were reduced to brief texts of updates, hurried calls in between the small pockets of time they would find. Chaeryeong started getting weary, but she didn’t want to ask what she needed, like the last time, and Ryujin felt guiltier because she couldn’t give what she knew she needed.
Days would go by without them talking, until it became weeks. Neither thought of reaching out, maybe because they hoped if they let things be, they would eventually find their footing to continue again without having to really let go of the other. But the media started meddling once more. So, with luck suddenly on their side, they finally met in person. At the usual cafe they frequently go to, they sat across from each other. The sight of them was all too familiar for both of them. After all, the cafe is their sanctuary.
The silence was heavy, heavier than any of those they shared. Chaeryeong’s eyes were evidently tired, but she tried her best to offer a faint smile to Ryujin. “Hey,” she greeted softly, but the hollowness and guilt mixed in her voice were noticeable.
“Hey,” Ryujin replied, offering a strained smile. Her heart tightened in her chest, already knowing where this conversation would go. It never gets easier. With a made-up mind, she decided to start the conversation they had been avoiding through a false belief that everything would work out.
“I can’t do this anymore, Chaery,” she said, her voice softly quivering. “I know you’ve been waiting. I know what you need, and I’m sorry that I can’t give it you. Not yet,” offering a broken smile at her. “I can’t keep hurting you. I’m just simply being selfish by keeping you when I can’t give you what you need.”
Chaeryeong smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. She knew this already. “I know,” she whispered with a halfhearted laugh. “I knew this was coming. I tried being patient, Ryu. And I have been patient, but this is wearing me out. But do you know what?” She asked rhetorically and continued. “All I needed was one thing from you. I knew that you knew, so I simply kept waiting for it. But today just proves I still am not part of your priorities.”
Ryujin’s eyes flickered with pain. She didn’t dare try to hide it. Her words cut open like knives because she knew she was right. She opened her mouth to say something, but words fell short on her mouth.
“All I needed was your assurance, Ryu. Assurance from the world that’s been throwing stones at me. Assurance that I would still be part of your life, that one day I will get to be chosen without so much of a second thought,” she said with a shaky breath, tears prickling her eyes as she tried to blink them away. “It was all I needed. Just that.”
“I know,” Ryujin whispered, her voice filled with pain, guilt and regret. “I thought I could do better. I thought I was better. I thought I could give it to you, that I could risk all the things for you, but I’ve been lying to myself. I’m not brave, not as brave as you. I’m a coward, and selfish. I’m not worthy enough of the patience you’ve been giving me, of the love I’ve been blessed to have from you,” sadness laced heavily with her words. “I don’t want to keep on hurting you, Chaery. And right now, I’m hurting you the most by staying.”
Chaeryeong failed to wipe all the tears that were pouring from her eyes. She nodded. “I know you’re hurting too. But I can’t pretend that this isn’t tearing me apart, that you letting me go isn’t breaking me to pieces,” eyes boring straight at her favorite hazel brown eyes. “All I asked of you at the very start was for you to hold on to me, but you’re letting me go.”
“I thought I could—“
“Ryu…I deserve more than just a thought. I didn’t even ask a lot, even when I could’ve. Don’t you think I deserve more? If yes, why can’t it be you?”
Ryujin looked away, unable to hold the heaviness of her stare. “I’m simply not it, Chaery,” she muttered after a long pause. “I love you. I truly do. But I’m sorry if I’m choosing to let you go. I’m not worthy enough to keep you.”
Chaeryeong stared at her for a long time, feeling the finality of their relationship sink in. She can see how made up Ryujin’s mind already is. Despite knowing this break up was coming, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It hurt a lot. They were puzzle pieces. They’re pieces that fit with each other, only to be from different puzzles. “I understand.”
“I guess maybe it’s better this way,” Chaeryeong whispered, drying her tears. “Maybe we aren’t meant to hold on to each other,” smiling sadly and longingly at her. How far was she despite just being arms’ length away from her? She winced at the thought. “Maybe if we weren’t living the way we are now, things would’ve been different.”
“Maybe,” Ryujin echoed. “I’m really sorry, Chaery.” Chaeryeong only smiled, afraid she would tear up once more if she dared to speak again.
They let each other’s gaze linger on the other after that, before fully parting ways with unspoken afterthoughts, knowing that this would be the last time they would really see each other. Because this time, their break up cuts deeper and there was no more lingering hope of finding their way back to each other. This time, the reality of how different their lives, beliefs and priorities weighed heavily on them.
This time, it’s really goodbye.
When their break up reached the media, there were endless articles that came up. For weeks, Chaeryeong was followed by reporters that hoped to get a word from her. From her home to her work and even to her little trips to the grocery store, they were there. Some were kind but most of them were not, even harassing her just to get her to talk.
Ryujin was more or less the same, except she had security that dealt with it. She was keen on not giving a comment until she heard how Chaeryeong was being treated. To address them once and for all, to make them stop, she released a statement.
“Hi, this is Shin Ryujin. I’m writing this to address the recent happenings.
Chaeryeong, my long-time girlfriend, and I broke up. Our break up was out of mutual decision and there are no other people involved. It has been hard, not just for me but for her as well. So, please, I ask everyone to respect both of our private spaces as we go through this.
Thank you.”
The statement from Ryujin helped Chaeryeong. The reporters slowly fizzled out but both of them hated to admit that the statement was like the final seal to the end of their relationship, for good. It was a reality that loomed over their heads as they figured things out.
But Chaeryeong was headstrong this time around. The light in her that dimmed when they first parted ways only flickered this time. Pushing to the side any hope she might have for the two of them, she strived tirelessly to reach for the dreams already at her fingertips, and it paid off. She worked hard to use her emotions as a fuel for her craft. And though, at the beginning, she would lie awake at night, unable to sleep as thoughts of Ryujin consumed her, she had still managed through. Then, she stopped missing her, stopped wondering about her. All of it, gone. She no longer feel hurt whenever she saw her face at the billboard near her route to work, nor does she stiffen when she hears her name being mentioned. Chaeryeong finally moved on. Step by step, no matter how tiresome, painful and heavy it is, she moved on. It took a long while, but she did it.
Ryujin.
Ryujin, on the other hand, fumbled and faltered, losing herself at first before finding her footing. She dedicated herself to her dream, using it as her avenue of moving on. She allowed herself to be lost in her performances, in her interviews, in her recordings, and every schedule she had. But the more she did this, the more she became like a robot, devoid of emotion. Though she struggled, her career didn’t suffer. Quite the contrary, it soared to higher heights. However, the emptiness began to grow bigger and heavier, finally forcing her to take a break—a long overdue and much needed break. Surprisingly, the media and her fans were sympathetic and supportive, offering her words of comfort. It helped her ease the hole in her heart that she knew only one person could fill. It was during the solitude of being alone with her own thoughts and feelings, forced to face them down day by day, night by night, that she came to terms with what really mattered, what she valued, and what she wanted. It has always been, Chaeryeong.
But now it was too late. More than a little too late.
With the gut-wrenching regret that filled her, she convinced herself to pull herself together and move on. To stand by her choice and be better. It was what she owed of Chaeryeong—being better. So, she did just that.
They were both living their dream lives peacefully and with contentment, having accepted that the two of them weren’t meant to walk the same path and that they were, as cliche as it sounded, star-crossed lovers whose timing had always been wrong. But fates, simply won’t have it. Because years down the road, since their break up, they met again.
A familiar face bearing thousands of memories. A familiar feeling settled in the pit of their stomach.
One more time.
It felt like the world conspired against them and said, “here, you can try one more time.”
The air was cold when they met again. It was winter after all. The snowflakes were on their way to kiss the ground, ever so slowly, gathering in numbers to cover the streets in a beautiful blanket of white, making the city that was still wide awake waiting in excitement and buzzing with anticipation for New Year’s Eve, even more dazzling.
Chaeryeong had just arrived at her friend’s house, who was hosting the New Year’s Eve party. She was still at the door when she heard it—a chorus of loud chattering and boisterous laughter, as if someone had just conducted them in synchrony.
“Sorry Yuna! I hope I’m not late,” she apologized while dusting off the snow that collected on her clothes, her cheeks and ears both red from the cold. She had not noticed it yet, but her arrival made the room fall silent as all of their attention focused on her, particularly the person in the middle of them all—Ryujin.
“The traffic was crazy, and the snowfall was quite a challenge—oh,” Chaeryeong softly let out, and stopped moving altogether as her eyes met the familiar hazel brown eyes she spent years trying to forget. “You’re here,” she added quietly, hands falling onto her side while her brows furrowed, trying to make sense of the situation. She didn’t expect to see her again, especially tonight.
Ryujin had hoped for her, to see her, but now standing face to face with her, she felt her heart stopping for a moment, as if it needed its own time to recollect itself, like she did. Watching her before she took notice of her, she noted how Chaeryeong looked different somehow—older yet even prettier than the last time she remembered. “Yeah, I’m here,” was all she could let out when their eyes finally met.
Their friends remained silent, giving them space, fully knowing the deep history that ran between the two of them. For a long time, neither spoke and only the silence they were left with, enveloped them as they kept their eyes on each other. It was Chaeryeong who broke it. “I’m glad you could make it,” genuineness laced her words, coupled with a warm smile.
“I’m glad too,” Ryujin replied. She frantically went for her when Chaeryeong started taking off her winter clothes, offering her help, which she was grateful was accepted. “Listen, do you mind if we visit the rooftop?” She asked.
Chaeryeong couldn’t help the small laugh she let out. Oh, the irony of the situation and the request, she thought. Catching Ryujin wearing a flustered and embarrassed look while still holding her coat made her raise a brow before giving a smile and nodding. “Sure. For old time’s sake.”
The rooftop was, for the most part, quiet. The noise of the city faded into a soft hum as the wind swirled, whispering cold kisses on their cheeks. Chaeryeong and Ryujin stood by the edge of the rooftop, probably the same spot they stood upon years ago. Another blow of the wind greeted them and it made Chaeryeong shiver. Ryujin took the liberty of putting her coat to her when she noticed.
“You catch a cold easily,” Ryujin reminded her. “You need the coat more than I do,” she firmly added, until she earned a nod from Chaeryeong.
“So? How have you been?”
Chaeryeong smiled at her question, realizing Ryujin was still the same after all these years. “I’ve been good. These days life is treating me good,” she answered honestly. Life was indeed breezing like an autumn air on her.
“That’s good to know,” nodding at her. “I always hoped and wished that for you.”
“And you? You’ve been well, I suppose?”
Ryujin chuckled, shaking her head. “I am now. Though I’ve been…at my worst, but I’m working on not going back there.”
Her answer made Chaeryeong look at her, and it was like she was brought back to the first time she met her. She felt a soft tug at the pit of her stomach, making her reach for the railings for support. “Yes?” She asked breathlessly, feeling her walls crumbling down simply with the way she looked at her.
Chaeryeong stared at her, letting her words make sense to her. Ryujin looked more or less the same, she deduced. She still radiated the same irresistible charm and wore the same knee-buckling smile. But she also felt different from what she remembered—now long hair instead of short hair, framed her face perfectly, her eyes still holding that same fire that captivated her. But underneath, Chaeryeong could tell she was looking at someone who had grown tremendously over the years, someone who had been through so much to come out as wiser and more mature.
“Hug?” She offered, surprising both of them, but she meant it.
“Are you sure?”
“I think you need it, don’t you?” Ryujin didn’t answer because, truth be told, she does need it. Though she had learned to live in contentment, striving to always be better, she had never felt more alone either. So, before Chaeryeong decided to change her mind, she took her word for it and hugged her, like her life somehow depended on it.
Ryujin hugged her, but she only relaxed into the hug when Chaeryeong reached out to pat, and rubbed circles on her back. At this, she allowed her shoulders to drop and to surrender to her touch, sinking into her arms, as if she was the rest she had been needing all this time. She is.
“I’m sorry if it has been rough for you,” Chaeryeong whispered, meaning her every word. It had been tough on her too, but being someone who’s not in the limelight made it easier than her, who’s constantly being watched by people. “Your world isn’t really the happiest place, is it?” She asked quietly, and only a nod was the answer she got, prompting her to tighten her hold to her.
“You did well, Ryu…” she murmured, all the while trying her hardest to stop her heart from beating a little too loudly.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Chaeryeong assured her. “We were friends before anything else, Ryu. And it may be years since we’ve parted ways, but I still know you even if you’ve changed, because the things I knew about you remained the same.”
“No—I’m sorry about that,” she clarified, and added. “I owe you a proper apology, Chaery.”
Chaeryeong pursed her lips, finally understanding. She offered a smile. “I’d already forgiven you before you could even ask, Ryu. So, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Please? Let me?”
“Will it help you ease your mind?” Ryujin nodded. “Then, okay.”
Ryujin faced ahead, watching the city lights twinkle like the stars above. She smiled faintly, her heart pounding loudly and her chest tightening because the last time they had spoken, it was for a goodbye. She hoped for something else this time. “Would you believe me if I said I regretted leaving? Because I did. I regret it every single day.”
“It’s already over—“ Ryujin shook her head to stop her from contradicting her. There was a brief pause before she continued talking, the weight of her words hanging in the air. She exhaled a heavy sigh. “I was scared. I was a huge coward. I thought losing you was better and the only one I can give up rather than losing the career I’ve worked hard for, but it wasn’t,” her eyes softened as she looked at her. Boldly, she reached out to hold her hand. A gesture surprisingly welcomed.
“You were the one keeping me sane all those times,” she muttered. “The stage I always dreamed of was only bearable because of you, because there was you.”
Chaeryeong didn’t say a word. She didn’t know if any word would suffice to cover what she felt after hearing her words, not even sure if she even trusted her lips to say the right thing. She knew, after all, that her words held deeper meaning. She hadn’t seen her in years, yet in front of Ryujin looking at her with eyes that seemed to say more, to want more, made her quiver. The distance she made an effort to put between them suddenly felt smaller than ever. But then again, she is not the same person as before. She’s braver and stronger.
“Do you remember our last New Year’s Eve together?” Chaeryeong asked and then squeezed her hand, a smile tugging softly at her lips at her attempt to shift the conversation. “The one before everything went wrong?”
Ryujin’s face softened at the sight of Chaeryeong smiling at her. How could she forget? Everything that they shared, that concerned Chaeryeong, she never forgot. She may have found her footing after their break up but their relationship, at least what used to be, hummed like soft music in her day-to-day life. “I remember,” she said, her voice already laced with nostalgia. “I remember everything, if you’d ask me.”
Chaeryeong nodded and then looked away, opting for the city lights to look at rather than those hazel brown eyes. “I really loved you, Ryu. Everything in me loved you,” she declared, but with a daunting realization, it dawned on her that she still loves her. It made her sigh inwardly in disbelief. After everything, it still came to this point? She asked herself, and all it took was seeing her to realize she had never left where she left her. She bit her lip and looked at her. Life sure loves to play some games.
“Ryu…”
“Hmm?” Ryujin answered softly, looking as patient as ever about what she had to say. She squeezed her hand, offering wordless assurance.
“I know what you’re asking. But, I’m scared,” Chaeryeong breathed out. “Our worlds, though would often cross, are still different. You’re one of the brightest stars in the industry, Ryu. Are you sure you want me? Or is it simply because of the familiarity that I offer that you think you want me?” Looking at her vulnerably in search of answers to her questions. “I struggled to learn to live and be okay, even when I’m seeing you all over, like somehow a ghost was haunting me.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for a chance that I’ll go through that again.”
Ryujin nodded. She understood. “You always see right through me, huh?” She asked with a chuckle, yet her eyes never wavered with the certainty she had been parading with.
“You were never good at hiding, to begin with, Ryu,” Chaeryeong hummed, finding the way her eyes glimmering with certainty, enchanting. “You being here, it’s not for our friends. You’re seeking me out,” she whispered, having known the moment she saw her downstairs. Ryujin smiled, then she grinned. She took a step forward, unable to stop herself from gazing at Chaeryeong the way she always had—like she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and pulled her close, trapping her in her arms, and their faces inches away.
Chaeryeong felt herself stiffen, the proximity catching her off guard, but it was soon forgotten when Ryujin spoke.
“I struggled too, Chaery,” Ryujin said. “It’s for that reason that I worked hard to be better, because I never wanted to go through the pain of losing you again. And I’m standing before you now—yes, I sought you out—so I can stop wondering with what ifs and could haves.”
Chaeryeong looked at her with furrowed brows, a small pout on her lips, and redness on her cheeks. “Lee Chaeryeong,” Ryujin breathed out with a smile so dazzling up close Chaeryeong thought she would combust. She started at her eyes, eyes boring even to her soul.
“I don’t think for a moment I ever stopped loving you. If ever I did, it was only because I thought I did. But at the sight of you, I know I will always come back to you. It will always be you,” Ryujin confessed. “So, pardon me, but I’ll be skipping some parts here, hmm?” She muttered softly this time after her confession. “Because I don’t want to waste another time when I’ve already wasted a lot.”
Chaeryeong looked at her in confusion but Ryujin only grinned. Her mouth opened to ask her but Ryujin beat her to it, and the words that left her mouth stole her breath and her sense of everything.
“Will you do the honor of marrying me?” Ryujin asked, moving away to pull out a ring that was all too familiar for Chaeryeong.
“Is this…?”
“The same ring you stopped by in amazement during the last-minute shopping we were doing for the New Year’s Eve party we were hosting.”
“But why do you have it?” Chaeryeong could not help but ask despite already knowing the answer, somehow needing to hear it from her.
Ryujin smiled. “I bought this a month later that night when we had a fight,” reminiscing the memory in her head. “I walked out to blow some steam off because I didn’t want to say something I would regret, and my feet led me to the store. I saw the ring there and remembered how you looked at it, so, I bought it, with the intent of proposing using that ring.”
“We were just 2 years into our relationship back then, Ryu. And that was almost 9 years ago. How are you still so sure of me?” She asked quietly.
“Because it’s you. I kept the ring because I knew I wanted to grow old with you. It’s you or nothing. I don’t want anything if it’s not with you, Chaery,” Ryujin told her with softness that contradicted the growing noise of the countdown coming closer.
Ryujin’s declaration was quiet, but it landed like waves crashing the shore towards the unexpecting Chaeryeong. Her heart ached with longing at the tenderness and vulnerability in her voice, from the genuineness of her words. She would lie if she told her she didn’t want that, nor if she hadn't ever thought of their future, because she did. With her entire being, she yearned for a life with her. Thus, she stood at loss from Ryujin’s words, the question hanging in the cold air waiting for her answer. She looked at her, and she was met with patience, with assurance, and with certainty. Patience and assurance that she would wait. Certainty that she was not simply saying empty words, nor offering an empty future. Chaeryeong felt amazed with how the answer to the question came to her so naturally, as easy as breathing was. She held her gaze, locked onto her, while the noise of the world faded away as the silence fell comfortably before them. They shared a meaningful look—the kind that spoke lengths, and was far greater than any words— a thought passing.
“Five… four… three…” The countdown echoed, and they found themselves holding their breath, knowing that an understanding had already passed between the two of them. One where words were no longer needed.
“Two… one… Happy New Year!” The greeting cheered, just as the clock struck midnight and the world erupted in celebration.
Fireworks. It lit up the sky, bursting in vivid colors. The series of explosions of colors that painted the night sky was deafening but, at the same time, mesmerizing. Captivated by the beauty of it, Chaeryeong and Ryujin both looked up to watch the marvelous display of colors.
When the last of the fireworks faded in the sky, Ryujin turned to Chaeryeong. She wasted no time reaching out to cup her face, and her thumbs caressing both of her snow-kissed cheeks. Her eyes met hers and both of them gasped. Every action is careful and deliberate. Slow and purposeful. The air shifted, and the wordless understanding that passed between them earlier was ignited, crackling with something indescribable.
Without a single word, Ryujin leaned in, tentatively, with hesitation. Chaeryeong fought the urge to close her eyes as her breath tangled with Ryujin’s, her lips hovering just inches from hers. No one dared to instantly close the gap, both hovering and indulging in the undeniable pull they both feel.
“Will you marry me?” Ryujin breathed out, eyes searching Chaeryeong’s. Words fell short on Chaeryeong’s tongue once more. So, she simply nodded, while her hand found its way to the back of Ryujin’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer, their lips already touching yet not quite kissing.
At her answer, Ryujin leaned in, capturing Chaeryeong’s lips and both of their eyes fluttered close. Their kiss was filled with softness, nothing quite like the kisses they had shared before, where it was full of passion and urgency, burning with need. No, this was different. This kiss was quiet and deliberate. It was careful and gentle, full of tenderness. It was the kind of kiss that said I missed you and I love you without words. The kiss was an acknowledgment to Ryujin’s question and a seal to the answer Chaeryeong had given.
Lost in each other, Ryujin’s one hand eventually slipped around Chaeryeong’s waist, pulling her a little closer, needing to feel her warm body pressed against her. Their closeness made Chaeryeong sigh, causing her to part her lips lightly, in turn, giving Ryujin the space to deepen the kiss further. It was welcomed. Chaeryeong responded, pulling her by the neck, as if she couldn’t get enough of her.
When they finally pulled back from the kiss, foreheads resting against each other’s, their lips parted, breathless and gasping for air, Ryujin spoke. “Just to be sure,” she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. “You said yes, right?”
Chaeryeong smiled softly, her hands sliding down on her neck to cup her face. She looked into her eyes, and nodded once more, biting her lips as she blushed. “Yes, Ryu. I will marry you,” she murmured.
Ryujin smiled back, and with the hand still resting on Chaeryeong’s face, she gently caressed her cheek. “Thank you,” she said softly, before leaning in to kiss her one more time—this time, deeper, more certain.