𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒆

[37]

The afternoon sun stretched lazily across the sky, its golden rays shimmering against the calm waters of the Han River. The gentle rustling of leaves accompanied the distant hum of the city, but here, in this quiet space, the world seemed softer. Birds flitted through the trees, their chirping adding a melody to the tranquil moment.

Namra and Sooheon walked side by side, their fingers loosely intertwined. The warmth of his hand against hers felt natural, familiar, like something that had always been meant to be. They weren’t in a hurry, just walking with no particular destination in mind, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Did you know,” Sooheon began, his tone light, “that pigeons are basically just city rats with wings?”

Namra turned to him with an amused expression. “That’s… quite a romantic observation.”

“I’m just saying,” Sooheon continued, nodding toward a cluster of birds pecking at the ground. “People love feeding them, but if you think about it, they’d probably survive just fine without the bread. They’re survivors.”

Namra tilted her head slightly, watching the birds for a moment before looking back at him. “Are you saying we’re like pigeons?”

Sooheon smirked. “I mean… we do keep surviving, don’t we?”

Namra chuckled softly, squeezing his hand just a little. “I’d rather be a hawk or something.”

“A hawk?” Sooheon raised an eyebrow. “Majestic. Deadly. Fierce. I can see it.”

She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Hm…” Sooheon pretended to think. “A wolf, maybe? Strong, protective, roams alone but loyal when it matters.”

Namra hummed in agreement. “Yeah… I can see that.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, the breeze cool against their skin. The city was moving around them, but here, by the river, it felt like they were in their own little world.

Eventually, they both slowed to a stop near the railing, where the view stretched wide before them. The water reflected the sky in rippling shades of blue and gold, and the bridge in the distance framed the moment perfectly.

Sooheon turned toward her, his eyes warm but searching. “Namra.”

She met his gaze, tilting her head slightly as she waited for him to continue.

“Do you still not want to be fixed?” he asked.

Namra’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the question. But then, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She took a deep breath, looking out at the water before turning back to him. “You know… I used to think people were like broken vases,” she started, her voice gentle. “When something cracked, they were never the same again. You could glue the pieces back together, but the fractures would always be visible. The damage would always be there.”

Sooheon listened, his expression unreadable but intent.

Namra continued, her fingers tightening slightly around his. “But then I learned about kintsugi.”

His brows lifted slightly in curiosity.

“It’s an old Japanese art,” she explained. “When pottery breaks, instead of throwing it away or trying to hide the cracks, they fill them with gold. The broken parts aren’t flaws anymore—they’re part of the history, part of what makes it beautiful. It’s stronger, more unique, because of the breaks.”

She looked up at him, her eyes soft yet unwavering. “I used to think I was just a broken vase. That no matter what, I’d never be whole again. But then you came along.”