𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | (𝐆)𝐈-𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𓍯𓂃

Miyeon had always loved the window seat. There was something calming about looking out at the clouds, the vastness of the sky, the hush of being thousands of feet in the air, away from all the chaos on the ground.

She adjusted her coat, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and slid into her seat with a quiet exhale. Her heart was already racing—Paris Fashion Week wasn’t just another show. It was the show. Her career had been building toward this for years.

Just as she reached for her water bottle, she heard the sound of a familiar voice behind her.

“Excuse me—sorry, I think that’s my seat…”

Miyeon froze.

She didn’t need to look up to know.

Minnie.

The name felt like a cold breeze against her skin. It had been over a year since the divorce—twelve long, hollow months of pretending to be fine.

And now here she was, standing beside her, beautiful as ever. Hair swept back in an easy ponytail, leather jacket clinging to her like it had been designed for her alone. Miyeon felt her stomach flip.

“M-Miyeon,” Minnie said, trying to sound casual, but her voice cracked just enough. “What a surprise.”

Miyeon managed a small smile, clutching the armrest like it was her lifeline. “Indeed. I didn’t expect to… see you here.”

Minnie sat down slowly, their arms inches apart. “Neither did I,” she said. “Guess fate has a weird sense of humor.”

“Or cruel timing,” Miyeon muttered, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward anyway.

The first thirty minutes were filled with awkward silences and stolen glances. Then came the drink service. Then small talk.

“Paris?” Miyeon asked.

Minnie nodded, eyes soft. “Opening my restaurant. Finally got that lease near Montmartre.”

Miyeon’s heart twisted with something like pride… and longing. “That’s incredible. You’ve always dreamed of that.”

“And you?” Minnie asked gently. “Let me guess… fashion week?”

“Front row this year,” Miyeon said, blinking back tears she didn’t want. “I worked for it. Every night. After we—” she caught herself. “After everything.”

“I know,” Minnie said quietly. “I saw your Seoul collection online. It was stunning.”

Miyeon turned to look at her. “You watched?”

“Of course I did,” Minnie said. “I never stopped cheering for you.”

It was simple. Soft. Real.

And Miyeon didn’t know how to respond to that—so she just looked away, eyes shimmering.

---

They landed. And what should’ve been the end… wasn’t.

Miyeon hesitated at the exit, then turned.

“Do you want to get coffee?” she asked.

Minnie blinked. “With me?”

Miyeon shrugged. “We’re in Paris. Would be a shame to ignore the magic.”

What followed felt like rewinding time without the heartache. They walked. Laughed. Shared pain in quieter tones. They ordered wine at a bistro they would’ve once dreamed of. And somehow, despite the hurt, it felt safe.

At one point, Miyeon looked at Minnie and asked, “Did you ever stop loving me?”

Minnie hesitated—then said honestly, “No. But I stopped trusting myself to be good for you.”

They were at a café near Rue Cler when it happened.

“Minnie?” came a voice behind them.

They turned.

Jalyn.

Miyeon stiffened. Minnie’s jaw clenched.

Jalyn stood there, sunglasses on, holding a matcha latte like she had any right to be in their world again.

“Wow,” she said, smirking. “Didn’t expect to see you two together.”

“We didn’t either,” Miyeon said coolly.

Minnie stood. “What are you doing here?”

“Vacation,” Jalyn said. “I live in Berlin now. But don’t let me interrupt—”

“You interrupted our marriage,” Miyeon said sharply.

That shut her up.

Miyeon stood too, voice calm but laced with steel. “We know. About the lies. About the things you said to Minnie when I wasn’t there to defend myself.”

Jalyn’s face fell. “I didn’t mean—”

“You meant to ruin us,” Minnie snapped. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Jalyn opened her mouth, but the look Miyeon gave her—soft but firm, like someone who had found her strength—was final.

“We don’t need your apology,” she said. “We’ve made peace with the past. But don’t expect to be a part of our future.”

They walked away, together. Jalyn’s presence stayed behind them, shrinking with every step.

—The trip ended in a hotel room where neither of them wanted to sleep on the couch. Where hands reached gently. Where a whispered, “Can I kiss you?” was met with, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

They flew home hand in hand.

Melbourne was the same—but they weren’t.

They weren’t Miyeon and Minnie, the ex-wives too proud to speak.

They were Miyeon and Minnie—the woman who learned forgiveness, and the woman who earned it.

//

Miyeon’s next collection launched with a dress named “Montmartre.”

Minnie opened her restaurant on time.

And once a month, they met in that same Paris bistro—no cameras, no press, just the two of them.

Sometimes, love returns when you stop chasing it.

And sometimes, a window seat beside your ex-wife turns into the beginning of forever.