A soft breeze drifted through the open window of the flower shop as Hena sorted through a small stack of old boxes her grandmother had asked her to move. The scent of jasmine filled the air, mixed with the earthy perfume of fresh roses. She hummed gently under her breath, a melody her grandmother used to sing to her at bedtime. It was soothing… but something about today felt off.
As she lifted the final box from the bottom shelf, a small velvet pouch tumbled out. Curious, she picked it up and loosened the drawstring. Inside was a tiny, silver baby bracelet. The charm dangling from the delicate chain caught the light, and Hena blinked as the name engraved into the tag became visible.
"Hara."
Her brows furrowed. That name again. It had been whispered once in the hallway, murmured by her grandmother in a half-asleep state. "Hara, my baby… I'm sorry."
At the time, Hena had brushed it off as a dream. But now? Holding this bracelet in her hands, her heart quickened. Why would her grandmother keep this—hidden? And why had Hena never heard of this "Hara" growing up?
The bell above the door chimed, startling her. Claire, her lifelong best friend and co-worker, entered holding two iced coffees.
"I bring peace offerings," Claire joked. "You looked way too serious yesterday. What's going on?"
Hena hesitated for a second, then handed her the bracelet.
Claire squinted. "Hara? Do you know a Hara?"
"No. But my grandmother has been acting strange lately… saying things like 'I lost her' or 'She must never know.' I thought she was just confused." Hena glanced down, her voice quieter. "But what if she wasn't?"
Claire's expression softened. "You should ask her. Maybe it's time."
Hena nodded. "I will. Just not yet. Not until I know what I'm asking."
---
Meanwhile, across the city in a towering glass skyscraper that touched the clouds, Seo Hara adjusted the hem of her designer skirt. Every inch of her was calculated perfection—hair tied back in a sleek bun, lips tinted a bold red, and a pair of stilettos that clicked authoritatively down the hallway.
She was walking into a meeting arranged by her mother, Madam Seo—a woman who controlled her daughter's life like a chessboard. And today's move? Marriage.
Madam Seo had spent years building the family's name in political circles and social elite. With Hara as her pawn, she had her sights set on a merger through marriage to the influential and notoriously cold CEO, Damian Lee.
Hara entered the penthouse restaurant with confidence. Waiting at the corner table was a tall man in a charcoal suit, dark hair brushed back with intention, his expression unreadable. Damian exuded power even in silence.
Hara offered a polite bow and smile. "Mr. Lee."
"Miss Seo," he said, rising only briefly. His handshake was firm but distant.
They sat. An awkward silence followed before Hara broke it.
"My mother mentioned you've seen my profile," she said, her smile charming. "I assure you I'm even more impressive in person."
Damian didn't return the compliment. He watched her, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "I'm here because this arrangement benefits both our families. Not because I believe in fairytales."
Hara's smile thinned. "Good. I don't either."
Their waiter approached, filling their glasses. Across the room, Mr. Han, Damian's right-hand man, and So-yeon, Madam Seo's assistant, observed from afar.
"I hope this is worth it," So-yeon muttered under her breath, watching the tension between the pair.
"Trust me," Mr. Han replied, sipping his espresso. "He hates this as much as she does."
Back at the table, Hara leaned forward slightly. "We don't have to like each other, Mr. Lee. We just have to play the part. Smile for the cameras. Combine our empires. And keep each other out of the way."
Damian considered her. "Let's keep this professional."
"That's all I want."
---
That evening, Hena returned to her grandmother's house. She stood by the door of the small study, the bracelet tucked in her pocket. Her grandmother sat in her usual chair, knitting in silence.
"Halmoeni(granny)…" Hena began carefully. "Do you know someone named Hara?"
The old woman's hands paused mid-stitch.
"I found this," Hena added gently, showing her the bracelet.
A tremor ran through her grandmother's hand. "Where did you find that?"
"In the boxes you told me to move. granny… who is Hara?"
Tears welled in her grandmother's eyes, and for a moment, Hena thought she might confess something—anything. But instead, the woman looked away, her lips trembling.
"It was a mistake… just a mistake," she whispered.
"Was she your child?" Hena asked.
But her grandmother didn't respond. She simply stared out the window, eyes clouded with memory. Hena sat beside her, unsure whether to push further. Whatever this bracelet meant, it had left a wound that never fully healed.