Hailey clutched the ticket between her fingers, its edges slightly crumpled from the grip of her restless hands. The gate announcement echoed around her, muffling the distant hum of conversations and the rolling of suitcases along polished floors. She stared blankly ahead, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She hadn't planned to be here, at an airport, at the beginning of December, boarding a flight to Seoul with nothing but a single suitcase and the heavy echo of a broken engagement weighing her down.
Her gaze dropped to the engagement ring nestled at the bottom of her purse, now a painful reminder, its glint dulled by the shadows within. It felt as heavy as the lies she'd just uncovered, each unspoken betrayal hidden behind that one glittering stone. Her ex-fiancé's betrayal had shattered not just her heart but the carefully constructed plans she'd built for her life. Everything had been mapped out: their future, their home, their family. Now, those plans lay scattered like the fragments of her heart.
With nowhere else to turn, she was taking the only path that made sense—going somewhere she could heal, somewhere she could start fresh. She didn't know how long she'd stay, nor what she'd find, but for now, Seoul seemed like the one place she might feel less adrift.
"Final boarding call for Flight 217 to Seoul, South Korea," the announcement repeated, jolting her from her thoughts.
With a final, shaky breath, Hailey looked over her shoulder one last time, as if hoping for a reason to stay, a last-minute reprieve that would make sense of everything. But there was nothing and no one left to hold her back. She took a step toward the gate, her heart pounding in time with the rhythmic sound of her heels against the floor. Seoul.
The city of her childhood memories, the backdrop of the stories her mother had told her, and the life she'd left behind. It would all be unfamiliar, yet if there was any place she could hide and rebuild, it was here.
---
Hours later, Hailey stepped off the plane into the frigid December air at Incheon International Airport. The cold hit her instantly, sharp and brisk, biting at her cheeks and turning her breath to frost. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, falling softly onto her coat as if welcoming her to the city. She pulled her scarf tighter, hugging her arms to herself, and took a tentative step forward, gazing around at the airport that felt familiar yet strange, wrapped in layers of memories and unfamiliarity.
Her first thought was that no one knew she was here. Not her friends, not her family—no one. She had made the decision in a whirlwind of emotion, booking the flight hours after discovering her fiancé's betrayal, with barely a moment's thought for what would happen once she arrived.
She hadn't even told her mother, whom she was going to. Somehow, the anonymity brought a strange comfort, a feeling that she could slip into this bustling metropolis unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.
Hailey followed the flow of passengers toward the terminal, her senses heightened as she took in her surroundings. Bright signs written in Hangul, flashing advertisements, and snippets of Korean drifted around her, the language sounding both familiar and foreign.
She found herself moving on autopilot, instinctively trailing the crowd until she reached customs. She waited in line, her mind wandering as the hours of her journey finally began to weigh on her. Her heart felt heavy and raw, but she clung to a flicker of resolve. She was here now; there was no turning back.
Once she cleared customs, she moved through the main arrival hall, her eyes scanning the faces of passengers who were reuniting with loved ones. She watched a young boy run into his father's arms, a couple embrace after what seemed like ages apart, and a group of friends laughing and chatting as they welcomed each other. Each scene tugged at her, highlighting her own isolation. But she pushed it down, focusing on the steady rhythm of her footsteps as she made her way to the exit.
Pausing at the airport's entrance, Hailey took a deep breath before stepping outside, where the winter air hit her full force, crisp and cold. Seoul's skyline awaited her, a glittering array of lights, towering buildings, and snow-covered streets just beyond the horizon. It was nothing like the mild winters she was used to, and she felt the difference with each sharp breath that filled her lungs.
Drawing her coat tighter, she scanned the line of taxis waiting at the curb. She approached the first open cab, her steps hesitant but steady, and slipped into the back seat. As the door shut behind her, warmth flooded over her, a reprieve from the biting cold outside.
"Where to?" the driver asked in polite, practiced Korean.
For a moment, she hesitated, realizing she hadn't even planned where she'd go first apart from her final destination."Seoul, please," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her Korean a little rusty but clear enough.
The driver gave a curt nod, pulling the cab into the highway leading toward the city. Hailey gazed out the window as the car rolled through the snowy streets, her eyes following the holiday lights that decorated the buildings and storefronts.
The city was dressed in festive reds, greens, and whites, the spirit of Christmas almost palpable, making her heartbreak feel even more surreal. She'd imagined spending the holidays with him, with their future unfolding together. But here she was, alone in Seoul, with only the promise of an unknown journey ahead.
As the cab pulled to a stop in front of a small, quiet street on the outskirts of the city, Hailey glanced around, realizing she was on her own again. It was up to her to navigate the path to her mother's apartment. She fumbled in her bag for her wallet, paid the driver, and stepped out, shivering as the cold wrapped around her.
She took in a deep, trembling breath, trying to steady herself as she looked up at the night sky. Snowflakes fluttered down, clinging to her hair and her coat, and for a moment, she felt the small comfort of solitude, a momentary calm.
That calm, however, was short-lived.
"Ha-eun?" came a voice she hadn't heard in years, a voice that cut through the cold like a blade. She froze, her eyes scanning the nearby street until they landed on him. There he was, standing just a few feet away, his gaze unreadable but unmistakable—Joon Seo, her high school nightmare, the one person she'd hoped never to see again.
The boy she remembered was different. His once-reckless smirk was replaced by a softer, more guarded expression, and his figure stood tall and steady, as though life had sculpted him anew. His eyes held something she couldn't place—something gentler, but no less unsettling.
"Joon?" Her voice barely broke the whisper.
He gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Hailey's heart twisted painfully as she struggled to keep her voice steady. "Too long," she replied, forcing herself to look him in the eye. She'd come here for peace, for solitude—yet somehow, life had other plans.