The city was a galaxy of lights, every window flickering, every car on the Han River bridge a comet tail streaking through the early night. Ji-hye curled herself into the daybed on the balcony, knees drawn up, arms resting atop them. The cool air slipped under her skin, but she welcomed it. She wore nothing but a thin sports bra and soft black panties, the muscles in her thighs still sore from the match, her hair loose and wild against her back. The tinted glass wrapping the balcony kept her invisible, hidden from the world's stares, free at last to breathe.
She let her head fall back, closing her eyes. For the first time in weeks, she was almost at peace. The roar of the home crowd still echoed in her bones, the rush of winning after so much loss, after so much shame. But victory couldn't smooth every scar. Not yet.
