The days after her realization were quiet. For the first time, Chaeyoung wasn’t just passing through them, numb and adrift; she was facing herself. It was a slow and painful process, like pressing on a wound that had never fully healed. But she knew it was necessary.
The thought of Jisoo was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind, but it felt different now. She no longer clung to the memories in the same desperate way. Instead, she let them settle around her, like pages in a book she’d read countless times but was finally ready to close. And in closing that book, she found that she was left with herself—raw and uncertain, but also a little stronger.
One evening, as the last traces of daylight faded from her window, Chaeyoung sat with her sketchbook, flipping through the familiar pages. It was full of Jisoo—sketches from memories, glimpses of moments they’d shared, shadows of a past she’d once tried so hard to hold onto. She hadn’t realized how much space Jisoo had taken up in her art until now.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to a blank page, feeling the weight of her pencil in her hand. It felt like a fresh start, one that she hadn’t been ready to take until now. She wasn’t sure what she would draw, only that it wouldn’t be Jisoo.
Instead, she began with soft, meandering lines, tracing the shapes of her own thoughts and feelings. At first, the sketch was abstract, a mixture of curves and shadows, but gradually, a form began to emerge. She found herself sketching a version of herself—a girl standing in the middle of a vast, empty field, her face turned toward a distant horizon.
As the drawing took shape, Chaeyoung felt a strange peace settle over her. She wasn’t erasing her past; she was simply making room for something new. She was creating herself, not as the person she had been with Jisoo, but as someone who could stand on her own, who could learn to love herself.
The next morning, Chaeyoung woke up with a sense of purpose that felt foreign but welcome. She knew she couldn’t just rely on her art alone to heal; she needed to take real steps toward understanding herself, even if it meant confronting parts of her she’d been avoiding.
To start, she decided to reach out to the friends she had unintentionally drifted from. The texts and calls from Lisa and Jennie had grown less frequent over the past few weeks, likely because they knew she needed space. But it was time to let them back in, to let people care about her in the way she’d always struggled to accept.
She texted Lisa first: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but… would you be up for coffee? I miss you.
The reply was almost immediate. Of course! I’ll be there, anytime you need.
They agreed to meet at a different café, one she hadn’t visited before. She needed new places, new memories. Walking there, Chaeyoung felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. She hadn’t talked about her breakup with anyone, and while she wasn’t sure if she was ready to pour everything out, just being with her friends felt like the right first step.
When she arrived, Lisa was already there, sitting at a small table near the window. She waved enthusiastically, her grin bright as always, and Chaeyoung couldn’t help but smile in return. Lisa’s energy was contagious; she was like a burst of sunlight, always ready to lift her spirits, no matter how heavy the day felt.
They ordered their drinks, and for a while, they just talked about everyday things—work, funny stories, little things that made them laugh. Lisa didn’t press her, didn’t ask probing questions. She simply let Chaeyoung settle in, knowing she’d talk when she was ready.
Finally, as they sipped their coffee, Chaeyoung took a deep breath, her fingers tracing patterns on her cup.
“I saw Jisoo the other day,” she said quietly. “At the café. She was with someone new.”
Lisa’s smile faded slightly, her expression softening. “How did that feel?”
Chaeyoung looked down at her coffee, gathering her thoughts. “It hurt. But… not in the way I thought it would. I was sad, but I was also… relieved, in a way. Like seeing her happy meant I could start letting go.”
Lisa nodded, reaching across the table to give Chaeyoung’s hand a comforting squeeze. “That’s a big step, you know. It means you’re healing.”
Chaeyoung nodded slowly, feeling the truth of Lisa’s words sink in. She hadn’t realized it before, but the act of seeing Jisoo with someone else had forced her to confront the reality of their breakup. It was painful, yes, but it was also freeing. For so long, she had held onto the hope that maybe they’d find their way back to each other. But now, she could see that their paths had diverged, and that it was okay.
They sat in silence for a while, a peaceful kind of quiet that filled the spaces between their words. Chaeyoung felt the weight of her own thoughts lift slightly, like a storm that had finally begun to pass.
“Thank you for being here, Lisa,” she said softly. “I don’t know if I could do this alone.”
Lisa smiled, her eyes warm. “You don’t have to. You have us—Jennie, me, everyone who loves you. And I hope you know that we’re here, no matter what.”
For the first time in a long time, Chaeyoung felt truly supported, like she didn’t have to carry the burden alone. It was a small but powerful reminder that she wasn’t defined by her past, that she could still find joy and love in the present.
That night, Chaeyoung returned to her apartment and opened her sketchbook again. She began drawing without thinking, letting her hand move freely across the page. The lines were softer this time, more delicate, and they took the shape of the people in her life who had been there for her. Lisa, Jennie, her family. She filled the page with their faces, capturing the kindness and warmth they had offered her.
She realized that her friends were a part of her journey too, a part of her healing. She had isolated herself for so long, convinced that she had to face her pain alone, but now she saw that they were there, ready to lift her up when she stumbled.
When she finally closed the sketchbook, she felt a sense of contentment she hadn’t known in a long time. She wasn’t fully healed yet, and she knew she’d have days where the ache of missing Jisoo would return, sharp and painful. But she was taking steps, no matter how small, toward a future where she could feel whole again.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.
