WINRINA ONESHOTS

NEVER ENOUGH

Minjeong 25, leaned against the café window, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup absentmindedly. The busy Seoul streets outside blurred into a mess of colors, but her focus was elsewhere—on memories that surfaced every now and then. She didn’t expect to see Jimin today. She never did. And yet, as if life enjoyed playing these games, there she was.

Across the room, Jimin 26, stood by the counter, her voice soft and warm as she ordered a drink. It was different now, of course. Jimin was different. She carried herself with the grace of someone who had moved on, or at least tried to. The simple gold band around her finger reminded Minjeong of that. Jeno. He was a good man; everyone said that. She didn’t doubt it, but none of that mattered in these stolen moments.

Their eyes met for the briefest second, and Minjeong felt it—the same pull, the same invisible force that always brought them back together no matter how much time passed or how much their lives had changed. She quickly looked away, but it was too late. Jimin was already walking towards her.

“Minjeong,” Jimin said softly as she sat down across from her, a mix of surprise and something deeper in her eyes.

“Jimin.” Her voice barely held together, and her throat tightened as the memories of their past encounters flashed in her mind.

“How… how have you been?” Jimin’s voice was steady, but Minjeong could hear the hesitation underneath.

Minjeong’s laugh was bitter. “You know how it goes. Same old, same old.”

“Still painting?”

“When I can.” She paused, her fingers drumming against the table. “And you? Married life?”

Jimin smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s good. Jeno is… he’s good.”

There it was, the subtle admission that things weren’t perfect. Minjeong didn’t push further, though. She didn’t need to. The silence that followed was thick with the weight of everything left unsaid over the years.

They had been here before. Time and time again, finding each other, falling into that same rhythm, only for it to end as it always did—abruptly, painfully, with a mess of unresolved feelings.

“Why is it always like this?” Jimin’s voice was barely a whisper, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup, just as Minjeong had done moments before. “Why do we keep doing this?”

Minjeong swallowed hard. “Because we don’t know how to stop.”

The words hung in the air between them, charged with the truth neither could deny. Their connection, the magnetism that pulled them together, was always too strong to ignore, and yet it was never enough to keep them from falling apart.

Jimin glanced at her phone, the time flashing like a countdown. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Then why are you?”

Jimin looked at her, eyes full of conflict. “I don’t know.”

But they both knew. They always knew.

---

Years ago, they had met under different circumstances. Minjeong 18, had been fresh out of school, full of ambition, her art taking her places she’d never imagined. Jimin 19, had been rising to prominence in her own right, poised and confident. Their paths had crossed at an event, and from the moment their eyes met, something had sparked between them—something undeniable.

The first time they kissed, it had been tentative, almost shy, but the electricity in the air was impossible to ignore. That night had turned into many nights—stolen moments filled with passion and quiet intimacy. But for every moment of bliss, there was another of doubt, of fear, of everything pulling them in opposite directions.