BLOSSOMS IN THE SPOLIGHT | HEESEUNG

15: The Distance Between Us

The weeks that followed were a blur of activity, both for Jia and Heeseung. As much as Jia wanted to sort through her feelings after their talk at the café, life seemed to get in the way. The flower shop had been busier than ever, with the upcoming holiday season bringing in more customers and large orders for events. Jia found herself working long hours, often returning home exhausted, her mind too tired to dwell on the complicated mess of emotions she felt toward Heeseung.

Heeseung, on the other hand, had become increasingly preoccupied with Enhypen’s promotional schedules. The group had been preparing for a comeback, and with rehearsals, interviews, and appearances, his days were packed. Jia had seen updates about their busy lives through social media, but Heeseung’s messages had become less frequent, reduced to the occasional “Hey, hope you’re doing well!” or a quick reply to her own messages. It wasn’t that he wasn’t reaching out at all—he was. But something about the way he interacted felt different, distant, like a part of him was pulling away without either of them fully realizing it.

It wasn’t long before Jia began to notice the strain.

One evening, after a particularly hectic day at the flower shop, Jia found herself scrolling through her messages, staring at her last conversation with Heeseung. His most recent reply had been short and casual, as usual—nothing out of the ordinary. But what was different was the way she felt reading it. Before, even those small exchanges had been enough to make her smile, to give her a sense of connection. Now, they felt hollow, like placeholders in a relationship that wasn’t as close as it used to be.

She sighed, setting her phone down on the counter. As much as she wanted to reach out, to ask him how things were going, she knew that the timing wasn’t right. He was busy, and she didn’t want to add to his stress with her own doubts and insecurities.

But the distance between them was growing, and Jia couldn’t ignore it.

Days turned into weeks, and their conversations became more and more sporadic. When Heeseung did message her, it was usually late at night, when she was already asleep, and by the time she responded, he would be in the middle of rehearsals or interviews. It felt like they were living in two completely different worlds—his filled with the excitement and chaos of being in the spotlight, and hers rooted in the quiet, everyday routine of work and home.

One afternoon, as Jia was preparing a bouquet for a wedding, Sunghoon walked into the shop. She hadn’t seen him in a while, their schedules making it difficult to meet up as often as they used to, but the sight of his familiar face instantly brought a sense of comfort.

“Sunghoon!” Jia exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron as she moved to greet him. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

He smiled, leaning casually against the counter. “I had some free time and thought I’d stop by. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Jia agreed, her smile fading slightly. She glanced around the shop, the scent of fresh flowers filling the air. “How have you been? Busy, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, the comeback’s been taking up a lot of time,” Sunghoon said with a nod. “But I wanted to check in on you. You seem... different lately.”

Jia’s heart skipped a beat at his observation. She hadn’t realized it was so obvious that something was off. “Different? How so?”

Sunghoon tilted his head, studying her with those sharp, observant eyes. “I don’t know. You just seem... distant. From all of us. But mostly from Heeseung.”

Jia’s stomach twisted at the mention of Heeseung’s name. She had been trying to keep their growing distance to herself, not wanting to burden anyone with her doubts. But clearly, Sunghoon had noticed.

“I guess we’ve both just been busy,” Jia said, forcing a smile. “With the comeback and the shop, it’s been hard to find time to talk.”

Sunghoon didn’t look convinced. He leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Jia hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. She hadn’t even fully sorted through her own feelings, let alone explained them to someone else. But Sunghoon had always been someone she could trust, someone who knew how to listen without judgment.

“I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. “Things between us... they’ve changed. I don’t know if it’s just because we’re both so busy, or if there’s something else. It’s like we’re drifting apart, and I’m not sure how to stop it.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Have you talked to him about it?”

Jia shook her head. “Not really. I mean, we had a conversation a while ago, but it didn’t really help. He’s so laid-back about everything, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe... maybe he’s just not as serious about us as I thought.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Jia, you need to talk to him again. If you’re feeling this way, he needs to know. Otherwise, you’ll keep drifting apart, and it’ll get harder to fix.”

“I know,” Jia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I don’t want to make things worse. He’s already so busy, and I don’t want to add more pressure.”

Sunghoon shook his head gently. “You won’t make it worse by being honest. If anything, it’ll give you both a chance to figure things out. Whether that means getting closer or... going your separate ways.”

Jia’s heart clenched at the thought of “going their separate ways.” The idea of losing Heeseung entirely was almost unbearable, even though she knew that something had to change.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice uncertain.

Sunghoon smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Just don’t wait too long, Jia. Time has a way of slipping through your fingers.”

With that, he gave her a small wave and left the shop, leaving Jia alone with her thoughts. She stared at the bouquet she had been working on, her mind spinning. Sunghoon was right—she couldn’t keep avoiding the issue. But the fear of confronting Heeseung, of potentially losing him, was paralyzing.

That evening, Jia sat at her small kitchen table, her phone in front of her. She had scrolled through her messages with Heeseung again, reading over their last conversations, which felt more like brief exchanges between acquaintances than two people who had once shared something deeper.

With a sigh, she typed out a message.

Hey, I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. Do you think we could talk sometime soon?

She stared at the screen for what felt like hours before finally pressing send.

The message sat there, unread, as the hours ticked by. Heeseung didn’t reply that night, and when Jia woke up the next morning, there was still no response.

By the third day of silence, Jia’s heart sank. She knew he was busy, but this felt different—like the distance between them had grown too wide to cross. Each passing hour without a reply made the space between them feel more permanent, like they were slowly slipping out of each other’s lives.

As she stood in the flower shop, arranging yet another bouquet, Jia felt the weight of her unanswered message settle in her chest. Maybe Heeseung was too caught up in his world to notice the cracks forming in theirs. Or maybe, just maybe, he had noticed—but didn’t know how to fix it.

Or worse, didn’t want to.

The thought sent a shiver through her, and for the first time since their relationship had begun, Jia felt truly unsure of what the future held for them.