The years spun their web, cocooning Da-Hyun in memories. She graduated, her dreams like paper boats set adrift. Jeong's silence was a chasm—a void she couldn't bridge. She wondered if he ever thought of her—the girl who had loved him like constellations love the night sky.
Da-Hyun's career blossomed. She became a successful woman—a constellation of ambition. But Jeong remained a distant star. She wondered if he still loved cherry blossoms, if he missed the rain-swollen gutters and the paper boats they had launched.
The gallery was a sanctuary of memories—a constellation of colors and unspoken confessions. Da-Hyun stood before Jeong, her heart a paper boat caught in a tempest. His eyes held galaxies—the secrets of six years etched into stardust.
One day, as autumn painted the city in gold, Da-Hyun received an invitation—an art exhibition featuring Jeong's paintings. The gallery was a cathedral of colors—a sanctuary for lost dreams. She stood before his canvases, each stroke a confession. Jeong's eyes held galaxies, and Da-Hyun wondered if he had painted her—the girl who had once whispered promises beneath the rain.
And then, there he was—Jeong, older now, his hair shorter, his eyes wiser. He stood by a canvas—a paper boat caught in a tempest. Da-Hyun's heart raced. She approached, her voice a fragile thread.
*"It's me, Noh Da-Hyun,"* she said, her breath catching. "I've missed you."
Jeong turned, his gaze a constellation of surprise. His lips curved—a crescent moon breaking through clouds. "Da-Hyun," he whispered. "You're here."
She nodded, her heart spilling over. "Like paper boats miss the rain.
Jeong's eyes held galaxies—the secrets of six years etched into stardust. "I never forgot," he said. "You were my unfinished symphony."
Da-Hyun's tears blurred the colors—the blues and golds merging into hope. *"Why did you stop replying?"* she asked, her voice trembling.
He hesitated, his fingers tracing invisible lines. *"I had a girlfriend,"* he confessed. *"But she was never you."*
Her heart soared—a paper boat catching wind. *"And now?"*
Jeong stepped closer, his touch a constellation of longing. *"Now,"* he said, *"I've missed you like constellations miss the night sky."*
And then, the interruption—a handsome stranger, young and powerful. His eyes held the promise of dreams fulfilled. Da-Hyun's breath caught as he approached, his presence eclipsing Jeong.
*"I apologize for interrupting,"* he said, his voice smooth as silk. *"I'm Kang Tae Mu, CEO of SunTech Industries."*
Da-Hyun's heart raced. SunTech Industries—the name echoed through Seoul's skyscrapers. She had heard of their innovations, their wealth. Kang Tae Mu was every girl's dream—a constellation of success.
Jeong watched, his expression unreadable. Kang Tae Mu extended his hand, and Da-Hyun hesitated. The paper boat of her love wavered—caught between two shores.
*"Da-Hyun,"* Kang Tae Mu said, his smile a crescent moon. *"A pleasure to meet you."*
She shook his hand, her pulse erratic. *"Likewise."*
And then, he turned to Jeong—a silent challenge. *"Old friend?"* Kang Tae Mu asked, his eyes sharp.
Jeong's jaw tightened. *"Something like that."*
The gallery held its breath—a canvas of tension. Da-Hyun wondered—could she choose? Jeong, the unfinished symphony, or Kang Tae Mu, the dream realized?
As ink met paper once again, Da-Hyun penned her story—a tale of love and longing, of strangers with memories, and the ache that never truly let go. The sea remained constant, its waves carrying whispers of what could be.
*To be continued...*