As I ambled through the bustling streets of Seoul, the vibrancy of the city life couldn't quite pierce the introspective bubble that enveloped me. The streets were awash with the ceaseless flow of people, each absorbed in their own world, their steps hurried as they navigated through the neon-lit cityscape after a long day's work. My own pace was slower, contemplative, as I navigated my tangled thoughts about Xiao and San.
Xiao's life was blossoming beautifully—he was thriving in his modeling career, jet-setting across the globe, and his relationship with Ten seemed to be filled with the kind of joy that one hopes to find. Our recent conversations, though less frequent, were always brimming with his adventures and achievements. Each call left a bittersweet taste; happiness for him was genuine, but it also underscored the distance growing between us—not just in miles but in the shared moments we used to enjoy.
With San, things were even more complicated. Our interactions, once filled with an easy camaraderie, had become sporadic and guarded, especially since he'd started making serious moves towards his marriage—a decision more strategic than romantic, tying him to obligations that were chosen for him rather than by him. My feelings towards San were a mixture of concern and residual affection, tangled with a reluctance to interfere with his chosen path, despite the emotional disconnect it implied.
Lost in these reflections, I found myself outside one of the night bars known for its subdued ambiance and good whiskey. A deep sigh escaped me as I paused, looking down at my shoes—worn from the walks that often served as my escape from solitude. Tonight, it seemed, I needed the comfort of a familiar place, a drink to soothe the emotional fatigue.
Stepping inside, the immediate hit of music and subdued chatter provided a welcome reprieve from the chill. The bar was dimly lit, its atmosphere a blend of coziness and anonymity, perfect for someone looking to blend into the background. I made my way to the bar, the soft sound of my footsteps muffled by the murmur of conversations and the gentle clinking of glasses.
As I settled onto a stool at the bar, I ordered a whiskey, the ritual of watching the bartender expertly pour the drink momentarily distracting me from my ruminations. The golden liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light and shimmering briefly before settling—a mirror to my own turbulent emotions finding a temporary calm.
