A quiet hum filled the space. Wine glasses clinking, murmurs over framed photographs and scattered sculptures. The exhibition was tasteful, intimate, and unfortunately familiar.

Jul hadn’t heard from Han in three days. She told herself she didn’t care — until her best friend mentioned seeing him with someone else. So she showed up. No anger. Just presence. Now they sit across from each other — same room, different silences. “Mu-seo-wo,” he says. “I’m scared.” She flinches. Because she is too. He speaks in Korean. She asks what it means. This isn’t a fight. But it’s not quite peace either. Just the truth… finally starting to surface.