The Noise Outside
Minji stood in his hotel room, peering out the tall glass window that overlooked the sold-out arena. Streams of fans were pouring in, waving light sticks and banners that bore his face. From this height, they looked like ants, a sea of obsession and devotion. And yet, all he felt was the dull ache of longing.
He had performed in that arena before. The adrenaline, the spotlight, the screams, it was everything an idol was supposed to live for. But tonight, it all felt... hollow.
His manager knocked on the door and peeked in. "We're heading out in ten. You good?"
Minji nodded, slipping the curtain shut. "Yeah. Just needed a moment."
As he walked away from the window, his phone vibrated. A message from Hana.
Hana: "Good luck tonight. I'm proud of you."
His fingers hovered over the screen, then typed: "Wish you were here. I'd trade all these lights just to see you smile in the crowd."
He sent it. And for a second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, their quiet love could survive the noise.
He tucked the phone into his jacket and walked out to the hallway, the buzz of staff and stylists rushing past. The stage was calling him but so was the heart he left behind.
Missing her so much as he remembers some of the memories they had together.
The café was quiet as usual, tucked in the shadow of late evening. Hana stood behind the building, where a narrow alley opened to a small courtyard lit with soft garden lights and a blooming cherry tree, petals falling like sighs.
She sat on the bench beneath the tree, arms wrapped around herself. The soft pink petals landed on her hair and shoulders, but she didn't brush them off. There was something comforting in the stillness and something sacred in the way the world seemed to hold its breath.
Minji arrived silently. No flashy entrance, no crowd, just the faint scuff of his sneakers on the stone. He stopped at the edge of the courtyard, hesitating for a moment. His hood was up, shadowing most of his face, but she could still see the tension in his body.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, stepping into the circle of light. "I should've been more careful."
Hana turned her gaze up at him. Her voice was soft but steady. "It's not your fault."
"It is," Minji said, a small break in his voice. "I brought this into your life. I let myself fall… even when I knew what it could mean for you."
She looked at him, her eyes searching. "I knew, Minji. I knew from the moment you pulled that cap low in the café. I knew who you were."
He blinked, caught off guard. "You knew?"
"I did," she whispered. "But I also knew who you weren't. You weren't just the idol."
Minji lowered his head, stepping closer, until the space between them felt small and warm. He sat beside her slowly, close but not quite touching. "I saw the photo," he murmured. "The comments."
"I did too," Hana admitted. "They were… harsh."
His hand twitched slightly, fingers brushing his jeans. "Are you scared?"
"Yes," she replied honestly.
He looked at her, eyes filled with the kind of vulnerability he never showed on stage. "So am I."
Her hand moved toward his, fingers meeting in a tentative touch. "But I don't want to run. Not yet."
"Me neither," he said.
A silence stretched between them, not heavy, but full. The kind of silence that feels like being heard.
Minji reached into his jacket and pulled out a small folded sheet of paper. He held it out to her.
"I wrote you something."
She took it carefully, unfolding it like it might tear. "A song?"
He nodded. "It doesn't have a title yet. But it's yours."
Her eyes scanned the lyrics, words gentle and raw, like confessions whispered in the dark. A lump rose in her throat.
"You wrote this for me?" she asked.
"I couldn't not write it," he replied. "You live in my thoughts now."
She folded the paper again, held it to her chest, then looked up at him. "You're making this harder."
Minji gave a small, broken laugh. "I know."
And then, slowly, like a song reaching its chorus, their heads tilted forward until their foreheads touched. They stayed there, a shared breath in the bloom of cherry petals.
He kissed her. It wasn't planned or perfect. But it was real.
In the distance, the world kept moving. But for them, under the tree and between the petals, time folded inward.
Both promise and hope they shared in that kiss was what he needed at that moment.
And fragile things like love, like spring blossoms and bloomed in silence.
She recognized him and accepted him of who he is without an expectation so it is time for him to tell the world and he has found the perfect girl to be his soulmate for life