The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving Nova City glistening like a thousand forgotten stars.
From her small apartment balcony, Yoon Ha-rin watched the quiet street below, still smiling without realizing it.
Jae-hyun's jacket hung over her chair.
She traced a finger along its sleeve, breathing in that faint cedar scent that felt like home she hadn't known she'd lost.
Her phone vibrated.
> Jae-hyun:
Can't sleep.
She typed back.
> Ha-rin:
Then stop thinking about work.
> Jae-hyun:
It's not work.
> Ha-rin:
Then what is it?
> Jae-hyun:
You.
She bit her lip, trying not to grin like an idiot.
The city outside went on breathing, unaware that two people across different rooftops were quietly falling apart in the gentlest way.
---
Across town, Kang Jae-hyun lay on his couch, phone still glowing faintly in his hand.
He closed his eyes — and the line between waking and dreaming began to blur.
This time, the dream didn't come in fragments.
It came in color.
A small boy, standing near a flooded stream.
A paper windmill spinning madly in the wind.
A child's cry — his own voice —
and then a smaller hand grabbing his, pulling hard.
> "Don't be scared, Jae-hyunnie! I'll help you!"
He saw her face this time — a little girl with a red ribbon and bright eyes that looked like sunlight on water.
He woke with a gasp.
The name came to his lips before he could stop it.
> "Ha-rin…"
---
Morning crept in pale and slow.
Before sunrise, his phone buzzed again.
> Ha-rin:
Did you finally sleep?
> Jae-hyun:
For a bit. Had a strange dream.
> Ha-rin:
Tell me.
He hesitated, then typed:
> A little girl. By a river. She saved me.
Ha-rin's fingers froze above the keyboard.
> Ha-rin:
You remember her?
> Jae-hyun:
Not clearly. But I remember her laugh. She had your eyes.
Ha-rin stared at the screen for a long time, tears threatening but never falling.
The past was beginning to breathe again — and she wasn't sure whether to be grateful or terrified.
---
At 7 a.m., her doorbell rang.
Jae-hyun stood outside, holding two cups of coffee and the same crooked grin that had ruined her sleep.
"You walk here before dawn?" she asked, surprised.
"I ran."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I needed to see if the girl from my dream still smiled like this."
He handed her the coffee, eyes steady, voice quiet but sure.
"Every time I remember a little more, it hurts a little less."
She took the cup slowly. "Maybe that's what healing sounds like."
He smiled. "Then I'll keep remembering."
---
They stood there in her doorway — sleepy, smiling, both holding coffee, the morning air cool around them.
No grand gestures.
Just two hearts learning how to exist in the same moment without fear.
And somewhere far away, a faint breeze passed through the hills of Aureum-ri, stirring wildflowers and carrying the echo of children's laughter —
a sound that would finally find its way back home.