The door to the cabin clicked shut.
Magnon's perfume lingered like an echo, bitter and floral, swirling through the air even after she was gone. Her last words were sharp enough to etch themselves into the walls: "The pain you gave me—I'll return it, Choen. You won't see it coming."
And just like that, she vanished.
Choen stood frozen, the chill in the room creeping into her spine. The lights outside the glass wall of the 14th floor danced like distant stars, but nothing could shake the unease in her chest.
Was it Magnon who had been watching her?
Or… was it Aldric?
She remembered the way her skin had prickled earlier that day—the weight of a gaze, the chill in the back of her neck as if someone had been standing too close… too silent. Now it all made a haunting kind of sense.
The streets below glimmered as she left the building, suitcase in one hand, her other clutched tightly to her phone. Moving houses was already overwhelming, but now every shadow felt alive. The city lights didn't calm her—they exposed just how alone she was in the blur of cars and crossing signs.
Her house wasn't far, but it was quieter, tucked between old bookstores and ivy-covered brick. A fresh start—at least on paper.
When Choen entered the apartment, her mother was there waiting, setting tea on the low wooden table, her apron slightly flour-dusted from the café.
She took one look at her daughter's face and paused.
"…Choen?" her voice was soft. "Are you alright?"
Choen forced a smile, shaking her head as if to scatter away the thought.
"Yeah, just tired. The move, the work—it's been a long day."
Her mother walked over and gently pulled her into a hug, leading her to sit on the couch. Choen obeyed without protest, sinking into the cushions like her whole body ached.
"Sit here. Let me at least give you a good scalp massage before you overthink everything." Her mother's fingers worked through her hair—slow, firm, rhythmic. Comforting.
"You've been carrying too much, baby."
Choen closed her eyes. "It's just… sometimes I feel like I'm living two lives. One where I'm doing everything right, achieving, smiling, pushing forward… and another where I'm scared of everything falling apart."
Her mother hummed thoughtfully.
"Life doesn't always happen the way we plan it. It rarely does. But you—Choen, you have a way of dancing through it. You feel things deeply, that's your strength, not your weakness."
Choen stayed quiet for a moment, her chest tightening again—not from fear, but from the weight of all the questions she didn't know how to ask.
Finally, in a whisper, she said,
"Mom… what is love?"
The hands in her hair paused. A soft breath filled the silence.
Her mother smiled faintly, like she was looking through time.
"Love," she began, "isn't always something we get to own. Sometimes it's a storm that visits you for a night, shakes you up, and leaves. Sometimes, it's a sunrise you can only admire from behind the clouds."
Choen opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling.
Her mother continued, "It's not always a fairytale. It can be the ache in your chest when you see someone happy without you. It can be the quiet joy in letting them go, even when you want to hold them closer. Real love… is sometimes standing on the outside and cheering them on."
Choen whispered, "Even if it hurts?"
"Especially when it hurts."
A silence stretched between them, gentle and heavy. Choen's thoughts drifted—Magnon, Aldric, Choel… Dokkaebi. They blurred together like strokes of different colors on one confusing canvas.
"I think," her mother said after a pause, "you already know what love feels like, Choen. You just haven't named it yet."
Choen didn't speak. The clock ticked gently in the background, and the world outside kept turning.
Later that night, in the dim glow of her bedroom, Choen scrolled through old photos on her phone. The picture from the baking contest. Her and Aldric, laughing. One of Magnon, back when everything felt simpler. And finally—one of her standing at the café door, wind in her hair, unaware the photo had even been taken.
Who took that? she wondered.
Then the notification blinked.
Unknown Number: Still beautiful when you're tired.
Her fingers froze.
Was it… him? Or was Magnon playing mind games again?
She tapped the screen off and tossed it aside, heartbeat racing, staring at the ceiling where shadows danced like memories.
Something was changing. The world wasn't as safe as it had felt before.
But one thing was clear—whatever storm was coming, Choen wasn't going to run from it anymore.
🌟 A Little Peek Behind the Pages 🌟
Hey you 👋 yep, you, incredible reader! If you've made it this far — I just want to say THANK YOU 🫶 for sticking with Choen's story, for riding the highs and lows, the glamour and the ghosts. 💅✨
Things are starting to get real intense, huh? 👀 The tension, the past, the secrets—ugh, I'm losing sleep writing these for you!! 😩 But trust me, what's coming up next…? Whew. It's chef's kiss 🔥
Don't forget to vote, share, or just scream about it to your pillow if you're loving it. It really helps more readers join this wild rollercoaster. 🎢🎤💖
Until the next chapter… stay fierce, stay curious, and stay tuned. Love ya! 💋
– your chaotic storyteller