When the stars align

Save Your Shyness... We Haven't Even Begun

Days folded into one another as San tried to adjust to her new life. Most of her hours were consumed by the twins—feeding, changing, and rocking them back to sleep when their cries cut through the night. Her body was still healing, and exhaustion often claimed her whenever the babies gave her a chance. Yet in between, she found herself holding on to the little things: the curve of their tiny fingers around hers, their quiet sighs against her chest, and the warmth of their presence that reminded her this was home, even if the path to it felt blurred.

Taehyung had returned to work, but never in the same way as before. His mind lingered at home, pushing him to wrap up early and rush back to them. Evenings became a quiet rhythm of shared exhaustion—San curled on the couch with a baby in her arms, Taehyung taking over so she could stretch and breathe. It wasn't perfect, but the tenderness in these small exchanges stitched them together, piece by piece, into a fragile but growing rhythm of family.

One afternoon, while rustling through the drawer in search of something trivial, her fingers brushed against an old, leather-bound book tucked beneath a stack of neatly folded scarves. She pulled it out slowly, the edges worn, its pages faintly ink-stained, carrying the weight of use and memory. A strange tug pulled at her chest—something about it felt familiar, like she had seen it before, yet the memory refused to surface.

Curiosity won. She opened the cover. The first page stared back at her in neat handwriting: Kim San.

Her breath caught. She turned the page, and there it was—her own words, etched in ink. A diary.

Diary Entry

Today... he took me on a date. Yes, an actual date. Oh my god, even writing it down feels unreal.

I didn't know what to wear. I stood in front of the mirror forever, overthinking everything—should I try to look elegant, cute, or just myself? In the end, I chose what I was most comfortable in. And yet, when he came to pick me up and his eyes lingered, I swear I forgot how to breathe. He went completely still, and for a moment I panicked—was I looking terrible or too much? But then he smiled that little smile of his and said, "You look nice." Nice. Nice.

At that time, I thought—really? Couldn't he have said gorgeous or beautiful? But later... I realized even "nice" from his lips felt precious.

Then came the real test: sitting in his car. Diary, only you know how much my heart was misbehaving in that moment. Thumping so loud I was sure he could hear it. It felt like I was trapped between fight and flight—I swear I almost wanted to bolt right out of the car just to calm down. But I stayed. Somehow, I stayed.

And I'm glad I did. Because he had booked the most beautiful rooftop restaurant. The view stole my words before I could even try to speak. We ate quietly, just a few simple conversations here and there. He didn't push me. He knew I wasn't in the state to chatter away like usual. After dinner, we walked in silence under the night sky. Just us. No words, only the comfort of his presence.

When he dropped me off at my apartment, I thought the evening was over—but he surprised me. Just as I was about to step inside, he stopped me and rushed back to his car. My heart was in my throat when he returned with a small bag in his hand.

"A gift," he said, urging me to open it. I stammered that I hadn't gotten him anything in return, and he simply smiled. "It's not necessary, San. I just wanted to."

Inside... was a diary. A simple, thoughtful diary. I looked at him, shocked, because of all the things in the world, he noticed this. He said, "I've observed how much you love writing down your thoughts... so I thought this would be best for you. I want you to write and when you feel like sharing, I'll read them to know you better."