Frozen Memories➔ps.ff

Chapter 22

_

Sarang sat by the airplane window, staring at the vast stretch of clouds outside. The gentle hum of the engines filled the cabin, but her mind was elsewhere. Korea. After seven years, she was finally going back.

Her fingers tapped idly against her armrest. The last few days had been a blur—graduation, farewells, and endless packing. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait. Beside her, Dohwa was already asleep, his head tilted back against the seat. Their grandmother sat on the aisle seat, flipping through a magazine.

Sarang sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. Seven years. So much had changed, and yet, she wasn't sure if she had. Would Korea still feel like home? Would she still belong there?

_

The moment they landed, a wave of nostalgia hit her. The familiar scent of Seoul's air, the bustling energy of Incheon Airport—everything was the same, yet different.

The moment Sarang stepped into Incheon Airport, a strange feeling settled in her chest.

Everything was familiar—the clean scent of polished floors, the soft hum of announcements echoing from the speakers, the quiet rush of travelers pulling along their suitcases. Yet, at the same time, it all felt distant, like she was walking through a memory that didn't quite belong to her anymore.

She pulled her coat tighter around her body, glancing at her brother, Dohwa, who was checking his phone while walking beside their grandmother.

"You good?" he asked without looking up.

Sarang hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah...Just... feels weird being back."

She wasn't fine. But she wasn't sure why.

Dohwa hummed in agreement, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Welcome home."

Home. The word felt heavy in her chest.

Her fingers tightened around her phone as she absentmindedly scrolled through old messages. Friends back in America were still celebrating graduation, posting pictures and videos of their last days together. 

Some had already moved on to new adventures, traveling to different countries or preparing for their first jobs.

Meanwhile, here she was—back in Korea after seven long years, yet somehow feeling more lost than ever.

With a quiet sigh, she locked her phone and slipped it into her coat pocket. Just as she looked up—

She froze.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Sarang's heart stopped mid-step.

At first, she thought she was mistaken. That maybe the exhaustion from the long flight was playing tricks on her eyes.

But no.

It was him.

Sunghoon.

She barely recognized him at first. He was taller, leaner—his features sharper, more defined. Dressed in all black, wearing a cap pulled low over his forehead, he blended in with the airport crowd. But it was him. There was no mistaking it.

He stood near one of the private exits, short distance away, surrounded by people—staff members, security, and six other tall, well-dressed men who looked like they had stepped straight out of a magazine. They were walking together in a tight formation, their presence commanding attention.

And attention was exactly what they were getting.

Even from a distance, Sarang could see the exhaustion in his posture, the way his shoulders slumped slightly despite his usual composed stance. He was on the phone, speaking quietly to someone, his free hand gripping the strap of his bag.