Chaeyoung’s days began to look different. The routines she’d once relied on faded, replaced by small changes that nudged her out of the comfort zone she’d held onto since the breakup. Little by little, she allowed herself to rebuild her life in ways that felt strange, even uncomfortable at first, but undeniably freeing.
She spent more time with Lisa and Jennie, letting their laughter fill the silence that used to feel so heavy. Sometimes they would go out to new cafés or explore parts of the city she’d never paid attention to before, the kind of small adventures that helped her rediscover herself outside of what she’d once shared with Jisoo.
One Saturday afternoon, they decided to visit an art gallery. Chaeyoung had been hesitant at first, worried that the artwork would trigger memories or feelings she wasn’t ready to confront. But Lisa and Jennie had encouraged her, promising it would be a fresh experience, one focused on her own appreciation rather than any shared memories.
The gallery was quiet, its walls adorned with vibrant canvases and intricate sculptures. Chaeyoung moved slowly from one piece to another, letting each artwork speak to her in a way she hadn’t done in years. She felt a spark of inspiration reignite, a feeling that had been missing from her own work for too long. Her gaze lingered on a particular painting, a swirling blend of colors that seemed to tell a story of struggle and renewal.
“You like it?” Jennie asked, noticing her interest.
Chaeyoung nodded, her eyes still fixed on the painting. “It feels… raw, but hopeful. Like it’s capturing a journey, one that’s still in progress.”
Jennie smiled knowingly. “Sounds familiar.”
Chaeyoung looked at her friend, realizing Jennie was right. The piece spoke to her because it mirrored her own journey, one marked by pain but also the quiet hope of transformation. She was beginning to see her life as something that didn’t need to be fully understood or perfect—it was a work in progress, just like this painting.
After the gallery, they stopped at a cozy, secluded café. Chaeyoung ordered a warm cup of chamomile tea, savoring the calm atmosphere. She found herself smiling more easily, feeling lighter in the presence of her friends.
At one point, Jennie looked at her thoughtfully. “Have you thought about picking up a new hobby? Something different to channel all that creative energy?”
The suggestion caught Chaeyoung off guard. Art had always been her outlet, her way of expressing herself, but the idea of exploring something new intrigued her. “Maybe. I guess I never thought about it.”
Lisa’s eyes lit up. “You could try pottery! It’s therapeutic, messy, and you get to create something from scratch.”
Chaeyoung chuckled, imagining herself shaping a lump of clay. “Pottery, huh? I don’t know if I’d be any good at it, but… maybe it’s worth a try.”
Jennie grinned. “Let’s sign up for a class together. It’ll be fun.”
They agreed to start a weekly pottery class, and Chaeyoung found herself looking forward to it in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The idea of creating something purely for the joy of it, without pressure or expectation, felt like a small step toward healing.
When the first class arrived, Chaeyoung felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. She hadn’t tried something new in so long, and the unfamiliarity felt daunting. But as she stepped into the studio, breathing in the earthy scent of clay, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.
The instructor guided them through the basics, showing them how to mold the clay and shape it on the wheel. Chaeyoung’s first attempt was clumsy, her hands awkward and unsure, but Lisa and Jennie laughed alongside her, their own creations just as lopsided and uneven.
As she worked, she found herself becoming absorbed in the process, her fingers pressing into the clay, molding it slowly, patiently. The world around her seemed to fade, leaving only the steady rhythm of her hands and the quiet focus of creation. The clay yielded to her touch, forming a shape that was far from perfect but entirely her own.
It was messy, imperfect, and a little rough around the edges—much like her life felt these days. But as she looked at the misshapen bowl in her hands, she couldn’t help but smile. There was something beautiful about its flaws, a reminder that she didn’t need to have everything figured out to find meaning.
When the class ended, Chaeyoung lingered, her hands still stained with clay. She felt an unexpected surge of pride for her creation, however small and imperfect it was. It was a testament to her own resilience, a physical reminder that she was capable of building something new, even from broken pieces.
Over the following weeks, Chaeyoung began to find comfort in the rhythm of her new routines. Her pottery lessons became a cherished part of her schedule, a space where she could let go of her self-doubt and simply create. The process was liberating, a quiet act of self-care that brought her closer to herself.
She noticed changes in her art, too. Her sketches became lighter, her lines less rigid and controlled. She started experimenting with color again, something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her work felt freer, less confined by the memories she had once clung to. She no longer drew Jisoo or scenes from their past; instead, she found herself creating pieces that reflected her present, the person she was becoming.
One evening, she sat by her window, sketching the cityscape as the sun dipped below the horizon. The warm hues of dusk filled her page, blending into soft shades of blue and purple. For the first time in months, her art felt like hers again, something born not from longing or loss, but from a quiet peace she hadn’t realized she was capable of finding.
One night, as she was cleaning up after a pottery class, Jennie asked her, “How are you feeling these days, really?”
Chaeyoung paused, considering her answer. “Better,” she said honestly. “It’s not easy, and some days are still hard. But… I’m starting to feel more like myself. Or maybe a new version of myself.”
Jennie smiled, nodding in understanding. “That’s growth, Chaeyoung. You’re letting go, little by little.”
Chaeyoung felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of accomplishment that came not from any external validation, but from within. She was learning to trust herself, to find strength in her own company.
And though she wasn’t fully healed, she was no longer haunted by the past in the same way. Jisoo was a part of her journey, a chapter she would always carry with her, but she no longer defined herself by their time together. She was creating new memories, new experiences that were wholly her own.
As she left the studio that night, Chaeyoung felt a quiet confidence settle in her heart. She was learning to love herself—not as the person Jisoo had once seen, but as the person she was becoming. She was flawed and imperfect, but that was okay. She was a work in progress, and for the first time, she felt at peace with that.
