Minji's POV:
The cafe smelled of burnt coffee and cinnamon, a scent that always brought back a flood of memories. Memories of him.
Of Y/N.
My heart clenched, a familiar ache radiating through my chest. It had been nine years since the news came, a call that shattered my world. He was gone, lost in a covert mission, presumed dead.
Nine years.
Nine years of living with the ghost of his memory, a constant reminder of what I had lost.
He was the first love I had ever known, the boy who had held my hand under the starlit sky, promising forever.
A promise shattered by bullets and the unforgiving nature of war.
I stared at the photo on the table, a worn picture of us, taken during our last picnic before he left.
His smile, so bright, so full of life, was a phantom limb I could never touch. It was a cruel joke, a mocking reminder of what could have been.
"Minji?"
A soft voice, laced with concern, broke through my reverie. It was Hanni, my best friend since childhood, her eyes filled with worry. "You're staring at that photo again. You've been doing that all afternoon."
I quickly shoved the picture into my purse, the ache in my chest intensifying. "Just remembering," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
Hanni knew, of course. She had been there when the news came, holding me as I sobbed uncontrollably.
She had seen me slowly wither away, a shadow of the girl I used to be, laughing freely, full of hope.
"It's okay to feel sad, Minji. He would want you to be happy."
But how could I be happy? How could I even begin to think of another? He was the one, the only one who had ever truly understood me, the only one who had ever seen the world with the same beautiful eyes.
"It's not like that," I said, my voice shaky. "I just... miss him."
Hanni squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know, Minji. I miss him too. We both do."
She was right. He was a part of our lives, woven into the fabric of our memories.
We had shared laughter, tears, dreams, and secrets under the same sky, and even death couldn't erase that.
"I'm going to the bathroom," I said, rising from my seat. The familiar ache in my chest was unbearable, the weight of grief crushing me.
As I walked away, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a nearby window.
A stranger stared back at me, her eyes tired, her smile a ghost of a memory. I barely recognized myself, a shell of the girl I used to be.
***
Y/N POV:
The cafe was bustling, a symphony of chatter and clinking cups. It was my usual Friday morning routine – coffee, newspaper, and a moment of peace before the chaos of the day began.
And then I saw her.
Standing in the line for coffee, her back to me, her hair a cascade of dark brown, a familiar scent of lavender wafting from her.
A wave of warmth flooded my chest, a feeling I hadn't felt in years.
It was her, Minji.
My breath hitched, the newspaper slipping from my grasp. I hadn't seen her in nine years, not since I left for the special forces, leaving behind the life we were building, the future we dreamt of.
