I watch her sleep on the couch right where I left her earlier. It's three in the morning, and the pale light filtering through the curtains paints a soft glow on her peaceful face. Strands of hair cascade gently over her forehead, making me realize how delicate and vulnerable she appears in slumber.
Leaning against the doorway, I let out a soft sigh, my gaze lingering on her. I can't sleep, not after all that's happened. The events of the day still play in my mind like scenes from a movie and I find myself wondering how fate could have brought us to this point. The girl I had a crush on back in high school is the same woman sleeping soundly before me now. I remember that year when I was staying with my uncle in Seoul and the first time I had laid eyes on her. When I stole glances at her across classrooms and my heart raced at the mere thought of talking to her. Back then, she was a distant dream, a star whose light I admired from afar.
Who would have thought that years later, our paths would cross again, and that dream would evolve into a reality so much more vivid than I could have ever imagined? She doesn't seem to remember me but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that life gave me another chance to know her, to be a part of her world once more.
I step away from the doorway, drawn to the couch like a magnet, my footsteps quiet on the floor. The soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the peaceful expression on her face—it's all so enchanting.
A soft murmur escapes her lips, and her fingers twitch slightly. Is she dreaming? I wonder what worlds her mind is exploring as she sleeps. Her features are so serene, her lips curved into a faint smile. I recall the way she called Sungho's name the first time I watched her sleeping. The tears in her eyes, the way she clutched my hand, the way her lips felt against mine. I find myself smiling at the thought and at how, after all these years, she effortlessly managed to be my first kiss.
The notion of time and its ever-flowing river fills my mind. How moments, like fragments of a puzzle, fall into place and create a beautiful picture that's uniquely yours.
I extend a hand and gently sweep away a strand of hair that's fallen across her cheek before I lower myself onto the couch beside her. I watch her for a moment longer, admiring the subtle details—the curve of her jawline, the delicate arch of her eyebrows— the things that make her unmistakably her.
She could have come to Busan and ended her life and the thought is surreal to me. If we didn't meet, if she didn't step into the bar that night, if the universe didn't conspire to bring us back together, how different our stories could have been.
I often wondered how she was, how she was living, and how her life had unfolded since I came back to Busan. That year I spent in Seoul was the worst year of my life, lost in a bustling city that never felt like home and stuck in a home that wasn't my own. I remember those long, lonely nights when I would think of her, the girl who unknowingly held the fragments of my heart. And now, as I sit here beside her, the pieces of my heart that once felt scattered and distant are beginning to find their way back together.
Sighing, I head to her room to find her blanket before I carefully drape it over her. She stirs slightly, her eyelashes fluttering before settling back into a peaceful slumber. I sit across from her, a book in my hands and I read. She's sleeping and I'm lost in the world of words, but my attention keeps drifting back to her.
Every now and then, a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and I can't help but wonder what she's dreaming about. Maybe it's Sungho and their memories together, or maybe it's a world entirely her own. I'd like to be part of that world.
I lose track of time and the sun slowly begins to rise, casting a soft glow across the room. The book in my hands rests forgotten on my lap. I love reading but there are moments when reality is more beautiful than any story within those pages.
When she stirs once more and her eyes flutter open, I hold the book and pretend not to notice her awakening. I let my gaze linger on the pages, my heart racing ever so slightly.
"Good morning." Her voice is still drowsy when she speaks. "I didn't mean to fall asleep here."
I smile gently, finally looking up from the book to meet her gaze. "Good morning. I didn't want to carry you to bed while you were sleeping so peacefully. Her cheeks have a faint blush before she stretches gracefully, like a contented cat, before settling into a comfortable position.
"Thank you for the blanket," She looks up, seemingly a bit more awake now. "You didn't sleep."
"I couldn't," I confess, my tone light but sincere, and she frowns.
"Because of your allergy reactions?" She stands up, making her way to me before she holds my arm. I pull back slightly, letting her examine my arm. "You really shouldn't have held the cat. You could have let me carry her."
"I wasn't thinking straight." I smile, my gaze locking onto hers. "Plus it doesn't look that bad. Small victories, you know."
"Small victories that could have turned into big problems. If this happened just because the cat brushed against your skin, imagine what could have happened if you had held her for longer," she scolds, her voice softening as she looks genuinely concerned. Gosh, how her concern tugs at my heart.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, trying to change the subject slightly.
She nods, a smile brightening her face. "Starving, actually. What should we make for breakfast?"
"Whatever you want. I'm okay with everything." I stand up, holding her shoulders and turning her around to face the kitchen. "We can make-"
"I had a dream of you." Her words catch me off guard, causing me to pause mid-sentence. I release my grip on her shoulders and look at her. "It was vivid, like one of those dreams that feel real."
I lean against the kitchen counter, folding my arms. "I'm curious now."
She tilts her head, her gaze fixed on a distant point as if she's trying to recall the details of the dream. "We were in a vast field, surrounded by wildflowers in every color imaginable. The air was crisp, and there was a gentle breeze playing with your hair. You looked so peaceful and so content while playing the guitar, and I was sitting nearby, just watching and listening. The strange thing is, when I woke up, I didn't feel sad that it was just a dream. I felt... calm."
The only thing I find myself doing is staring at her and at the way she describes the dream. The thought of being the reason she was smiling earlier in her dream fills me with a warmth I can't quite put into words.
"You know what? I have a guitar. I might as well give it a shot." I watch her eyes widen in amusement and the smile that follows is a smile I want to remember forever.
