Annyeongz One-shots

28. Broken Calm

The families met at Le Verre, a glass-walled restaurant on the thirtieth floor of a hotel overlooking Seoul. Their fathers—old friends and now business partners—were loud, warm men. Their mothers smiled and agreed with everything. Yujin had come straight from the studio, camera bag still slung over his shoulder, hair a little messy.

He didn’t even want to be there.

“Just one dinner,” his father had said. “You and Jang’s daughter are about the same age. Be polite.”

So he was polite. He shook Wonyoung’s father’s hand, nodded to her mother, then finally to the girl herself.

Wonyoung stood up to greet him.
Long hair, clear eyes, pale pink blouse buttoned to the collar. She smiled carefully, like she had practised it.

“Hello, Yujin-ssi.”
“Hi.”

She spoke softly but directly, and for a moment he thought she looked perfectly normal—graceful, even. She asked him about his work as a photographer, and he answered out of habit. She listened intently, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Everything seemed fine.

Then the restaurant filled up.

Laughter. Clinking dishes. Someone dropped a tray of cutlery near the bar. The metallic crash echoed through the room. Yujin saw her flinch—just once at first, then again, harder. Her shoulders stiffened, eyes darting around like she’d lost something invisible.

Her mother reached under the table, squeezing her hand.

“Breathe, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
But Wonyoung’s breathing turned shallow, her other hand pressing against her ear. The waiter approached, asking if everything was alright, and that was the final spark.

She stood up abruptly, chair scraping.

“I’m sorry. I— I need—”

She didn’t finish. She slipped past the tables and out through the side door to the terrace.

For a few seconds, nobody moved. The music kept playing. Her father sighed, murmuring apologies. Yujin’s father looked confused, then uncomfortable.

“She’s… sensitive,” Mrs. Jang said gently. “The sound, the crowd—it overwhelms her sometimes.”

Yujin nodded stiffly, pretending to understand. Inside, a thought crept in: she looked normal.

Make yujin hate her for no reason and not until something happened to her and yujin can't stand it

Yujin didn’t think about her again until their fathers brought her up a week later.

“Jang’s daughter is interning at the new art gallery downtown,” his father said. “Maybe you’ll run into her.”
He’d only grunted in response, because he didn’t care.

He told himself that night at the restaurant had been proof enough. The type of girl who panicked at loud noises? Too fragile for the world. He hated people like that — the kind who cracked at the slightest pressure and expected everyone else to make room for their cracks.

But Seoul wasn’t big enough to keep her out of sight for long.

The next time he saw her, it was at the gallery. He’d been hired to shoot promotional photos. She was standing near the entrance, clipboard in hand, hair tied neatly, the same careful smile on her face.

She looked surprised when she noticed him.

“Oh… Yujin-ssi.”
“You work here?”
“Just helping for the exhibition.”