Forty-one hours and seventeen minutes after Emma submitted her application, her phone rang at 6:47 AM with an unknown number.
She answered it halfway through the second ring, her heart already racing. "Hello?"
"Is this Emma Torres?" A woman's voice, crisp and professional with a slight accent.
"Yes, this is Emma."
"This is Jennifer Park from the Korean Cultural Exchange Program. I'm calling to inform you that your application has been accepted. Congratulations, Miss Torres."
Emma sat up so fast she nearly fell out of bed. "I—what? Really?"
"Really." There was a smile in Jennifer's voice. "Your essay was quite compelling. The selection committee was unanimous. We'd like to offer you a three-month placement beginning two weeks from today. I know that's short notice, but we had a last-minute cancellation and your application stood out—"
"Two weeks?" Emma's brain was still catching up. "As in fourteen days?"
"Is that a problem? I understand it's fast, but all the logistics are handled on our end. We'll arrange your flight, visa processing, housing placement with your host family, everything. You'd just need to get your affairs in order and pack."
Emma looked around her small apartment—the mismatched furniture, the half-finished design projects scattered across her desk, the stack of takeout containers she'd been too depressed to clean up. What affairs, exactly, did she need to get in order?
"Miss Torres? Are you still there?"
"Yes! Sorry, yes. I'm here. I'm just—" Emma laughed, a slightly manic sound. "I'm in. Absolutely. One hundred percent in."
"Wonderful! I'll email you the full information packet within the hour. It includes your flight details, visa application instructions, host family information, program orientation schedule, and cultural preparation materials. Do you have any immediate questions?"
About a million, but Emma's brain could only grab onto one: "My host family—what are they like?"
"Let me pull up your file." There was a pause, the sound of typing. "You'll be staying with the... ah, let me see. It looks like we're still finalizing your exact placement. There was a small administrative adjustment this morning. But don't worry, all our host families are carefully vetted and excited to welcome exchange participants. You'll receive their information within twenty-four hours."
Something about that phrasing felt off, but Emma was too overwhelmed to process it. "Okay. Great. Thank you so much, Ms. Park."
"Call me Jennifer. And Emma? Welcome to the program. I have a feeling you're going to have an amazing experience."
After they hung up, Emma sat frozen in bed for approximately fifteen seconds before she started screaming.
"AHHHHHHH!"
She grabbed her phone and immediately FaceTimed Hannah, who answered on the first ring despite the early hour. Her best friend's face appeared on screen, already grinning.
"You got in, didn't you?" Hannah squealed.
"I GOT IN! Hannah, oh my God, I'm going to Korea! In TWO WEEKS!"
"I KNEW IT! I manifested this so hard—"
"You KNEW? Did you do something? Did you pull strings?"
Hannah's expression was pure innocence. "Me? Pull strings? I simply may have mentioned to the program coordinator that we had a particularly compelling applicant who would be an excellent cultural ambassador and also happens to be going through a difficult time and could really benefit from—"
"HANNAH!"
"—this opportunity for personal growth and cross-cultural exchange! That's all! The decision was entirely theirs. Your essay sealed the deal." Hannah's grin softened. "I'm so proud of you, Em. You're really doing this."
The reality started sinking in. Emma was going to Korea. To Seoul. For three months. To live with strangers and navigate a city where she couldn't read the signs or speak the language or—
"Oh God," Emma said, the panic hitting. "Hannah, what did I do? I can't go to Korea. I don't know anything about Korea! What if I embarrass myself? What if I can't handle it? What if—"
"Stop. Breathe." Hannah's voice was firm. "You're going to be fine. Better than fine. You're going to be amazing. And Emma? You're not running away. You're running toward something. Remember that."
The next two weeks passed in a blur of preparation that somehow felt both endless and far too short.
Emma's visa was expedited—apparently the program had connections. She spent an entire day at the Korean consulate, then three days obsessively checking the tracking number until her passport arrived back with a shiny new visa stamp.
She gave notice on her month-to-month apartment lease. Her landlord, who'd seen the viral video (of course he had), was surprisingly sympathetic and let her out early. Emma packed up her entire life into a storage unit, keeping only what could fit into two suitcases and a carry-on.
Her mother called every single day, alternating between excitement and worry.
"Mija, are you sure about this? It's so far away."
"I'm sure, Mamá."
"But you don't speak Korean—"
"That's kind of the point of a cultural exchange program."
"What if you get sick? What if something happens?"
"Then I'll figure it out. Like an adult." Emma softened her tone. "Mamá, I need this. I need to do something for myself."
There was a long pause. Then: "I know, mija. I know. Your father and I—we're proud of you. Even if we're also a little terrified."
"That makes two of us."
Emma threw herself into preparation with an intensity that kept her from thinking too hard about what she was actually doing. She downloaded every Korean language app she could find. She watched hours of YouTube videos about Seoul neighborhoods, subway systems, cultural etiquette. She made lists and checked them twice and then made new lists.
The viral video was still circulating—it had hit five million views—but Emma had stopped checking. She'd muted notifications, blocked the worst trolls, and focused on the future instead of the past.
Tyler tried to contact her exactly once, three days before her flight. A text message that said: "Hey, can we talk? I feel like there's been a misunderstanding."
Emma stared at it for a full minute before blocking his number without responding. Hannah sent her a GIF of someone throwing an entire phone into a fire, accompanied by: "PROUD OF YOU."
The host family information arrived exactly 24 hours after her acceptance call, just as Jennifer had promised. Emma opened the email with trembling fingers.
HOST FAMILY PLACEMENT INFORMATION
Dear Emma,
We're pleased to confirm your host family placement for your three-month stay in Seoul!
Host Family: The Kang Family
Address: [Gangnam District, Seoul]
Family Members: Grandmother Kang (75), Kang Min-jun (28), Kang Ji-hoo (30)
The Kang family lives in a spacious home in the Gangnam district and is excited to welcome you into their household. Grandmother Kang is a retired school teacher with a passion for Korean traditional culture. She's looking forward to sharing Korean cooking and cultural practices with you.
Your primary contact will be Kang Min-jun, the younger grandson, who speaks English fluently and works in digital marketing. He will pick you up from the airport.
Please note: As this is a last-minute placement due to an administrative reassignment, the family is still finalizing details of your room arrangement. Rest assured, you will have a private bedroom and all necessary amenities.
We hope you enjoy your stay with the Kang family!
Best regards,
Jennifer Park
Program Coordinator
Emma read it three times, trying to ignore the small voice in her head that whispered administrative reassignment sounded suspiciously like something went wrong but we're not telling you what.
She pushed the worry aside. It was fine. Everything was fine. She was going to live with a sweet grandmother and her two grandsons in one of Seoul's nicest districts. One of them worked in digital marketing—they'd probably have stuff to talk about! And he spoke English, so she wouldn't be completely lost.
Emma googled Gangnam and discovered it was basically the Beverly Hills of Seoul. Expensive, trendy, full of luxury brands and beautiful people. The apartment buildings in the photos looked like something out of a magazine.
"I'm going to live in Gangnam," she told Hannah during their final pre-departure dinner. "Like, actual Gangnam. Gangnam Style Gangnam."
"Please don't do the horse dance when you meet your host family."
"I make no promises."
They were at their favorite Thai restaurant, the same place where they'd celebrated Emma's college graduation, Hannah's first promotion, and countless other milestones. Tonight felt different though. Bigger. Like the end of something and the beginning of something else.
"I'm going to miss you," Hannah said suddenly, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny. "Who's going to watch terrible reality TV with me and eat an entire pizza alone?"
"You'll survive. Plus, we'll FaceTime constantly. I'll give you live updates on all my cultural disasters."
"You better. I need to know everything. Especially if you meet any cute Korean guys." Hannah waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe you'll have your own K-drama romance."
Emma snorted. "Pretty sure that's not how real life works. I'll probably spend three months being awkward, mispronouncing everything, and accidentally insulting people with improper bow angles."
"Or," Hannah said, raising her glass of wine, "you'll have the adventure of your lifetime and come back a completely different person. A better, happier, more confident person who knows she doesn't need a man to be complete but might find one anyway because the universe loves a good redemption arc."
Emma clinked her glass against Hannah's. "When did you become so wise?"
"I've always been this wise. You were just too busy dating Tyler to notice."
They both laughed, and it felt good. Normal. Like maybe Emma really was going to be okay.
The night before her flight, Emma couldn't sleep. She lay in bed at her mother's house (she'd spent her last week in the States with her family), staring at her two packed suitcases and wondering what she'd forgotten. Everything important? Nothing important? Was there even a difference?
Her phone buzzed. A message in the program group chat from one of the other exchange participants: "Landing in Seoul tomorrow! So excited! Anyone else on the 2 PM flight from JFK?"
Emma typed back: "Me! See you there!"
Other messages popped up—introductions, excitement, nervous energy. Twenty strangers about to scatter across Seoul for three months of cultural immersion. Emma wondered what their stories were. What had brought them to this program? Were any of them running from viral videos and public heartbreak, or was that just her?
Another message appeared, this one private: "Hey Emma, it's Marcus from Brew & Bloom. Just wanted to say good luck in Korea. You've got this. And for what it's worth, that Tyler guy was an idiot. –M"
Emma smiled at her phone. Even her barista was rooting for her. Maybe that meant something.
She typed back: "Thanks Marcus. Save my usual table for when I get back?"
"Already reserved. Three months from now, same corner, on the house."
Emma set her phone down and looked at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom. The glow-in-the-dark stars she'd stuck up there at age twelve were still there, faded but persistent. She'd lain in this exact spot a thousand times, dreaming about her future—college, career, love, adventure.
Twelve-year-old Emma would be so excited about tomorrow.
Twenty-six-year-old Emma was terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
"Okay, universe," she whispered to the plastic stars. "I'm ready. Let's do this."
Somewhere across the world, in a house in Gangnam, a grandmother was scheming, a grandson was panicking about meeting his supposed "American blind date," and a series of misunderstandings was about to collide with Emma Torres' fresh start in the most chaotic way possible.
But Emma didn't know that yet.
Tonight, she was just a girl on the edge of an adventure, finally brave enough to jump.