One could be forgiven for thinking that she had everything one could desire. 

She is young - that most elusive and fleeting of gifts - only twenty five years old. And in her quarter century of life she has accomplished much; she is a celebrity in her home country of South Korea, a country where most people who have a TV or walked into a mall have heard her voice. She is on television and the internet, her face on posters on the walls of subway stations and clothing stores. Most people recognize who she is, from the starstruck young lady making her morning coffee to the grumpy elderly man that she passes by on the street.

She is blessed with talent - she plays the guitar as part of her position as a guitarist in the band version of her group. More importantly, she is blessed with a wonderful voice, expressive and emotive, by far the most talented singer of her group and perhaps of her entire company. 

She is beautiful - another gift that is fleeting, and certainly to be found in the eye of the beholder… but nine out of ten beholders would agree that she is equal parts cute, beautiful, and y. Not many women can pull off her short blonde bob, let alone wear it confidently - but she does so, and pairs it with a fashion sense that is alluring and innocent all at the same time.

But these would be empty blessings if she lacked personality, and she is thankful to be blessed with that as well. She is charming, alluring, and approachable. She is friendly in a way most other idols are not. She is funny, as well, and is often a hit on variety shows, where her carefree and easy going attitude are welcomed.

Currently she is sitting in the cafeteria of her company’s building, a half-empty glass of iced coffee sitting in front of her, next to a well-wrapped small blue box. Her fingers tap impatiently on the table. She is waiting for someone.

She doesn’t wait very often; she simply doesn’t have time for it. Her life as an idol demands that she be rushed to and fro, often without really knowing where she’s going save for a quick update from her manager telling her that she’s going to a performance, or to a fan signing, or to a shooting for the virtual marriage variety show for which she is a commentator.

She checks her phone one more time - perhaps the person she is waiting for has left her a text message - but to no avail. She sets it down next to the blue box.

Impatient, she glances around the cafeteria and her eyes settle on a guitar on a stand in a corner of the room. Her company loved bands and actively encouraged its groups to perform with live instruments as a way of setting them apart from the purely dance-based groups of other companies. There were always instruments lying around for anyone to use, even here in the cafeteria, should the inspiration strike whilst one is having dinner.

She gets up and walks over to the guitar, picking it up and returning to her seat with it. She strums it softly, and adjusts the off-tune low E string. Satisfied that the rest of the strings are in tune, she begins to strum the first notes of a song.

It is a song that was written by the person she is waiting for.

She wasn’t quite the household name she is now back when the song was released, but she was still a part of the company as a trainee and thus knew well about the song’s origins. She was there, watching with her group members on a cell phone, as it was sung for the first time on YouTube.

It was five years ago now - but she remembers it quite clearly, as if it were yesterday. A yellow couch. A young man and woman come on screen and sit on it. The young man, passionate and playful, contrasts strongly with the young woman, who is the very picture of femininity - mature and demure, innocent and pure. Together they sing a song that is, on the surface, about speaking in casual language - but she knows it is about more than that. It is a love song, written by a young man for a young woman that he is, surely, in love with.

She remembers how she felt that day, huddled around that cell phone in a practice room, watching as one of the stars of their company sung his heart out. She remembers the knot in , and the tears that welled up behind her eyes. Her fellow group members expressed their jealousy at the cute, adorable moment playing out in front of them. For them, it was a cute moment, and nothing more. On the outside, she played along.

But inside, she truly wished she were the one on that couch with him.

She sees him often - they are a part of the same company, after all, and they see each other almost daily in the hallways or in practice rooms. They are also close friends, being close in age and both sharing the lifestyle and schedule that comes with being an idol. They have spent many long hours in practice rooms together, often strumming notes on guitars or working on writing their songs. They know each other’s deepest secrets; he knows how she was rejected repeatedly from other companies before finding a home at his - and she knows all about his relationship. It is a secret few aside from his bandmates are aware of.

“I know that song,” comes a voice that interrupts her reverie. It is him, leaning against the doorframe of the cafeteria. Her heart leaps, as it often does when she sees him. A smile unconsciously forms on her lips, and she hopes he doesn’t notice the blush quickly appearing on her cheeks.

“I was trying to improve it, oppa,” she says, teasing him. He smiles at her jab and approaches her. She reaches for the blue box on the table.

“Here they are!” she says, happily. She presents the box with a cute gesture, and he accepts it. He undoes the bowtie that keeps it closed.

“You didn’t have to wrap it,” he says with a smile - it is a smile that has weakened the knees of many a young woman, with his slightly crooked teeth and disarming charm. She cannot help but feel the smile on her own lips widen even more. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says. He doesn’t know it, but she spent a frustrating hour trying to figure out how to tie the bow just right. He’ll never see the discarded, wrinkled knots of blue ribbon in the cafeteria trashcan that were evidence of her failed attempts.

“I’ve been looking for these forever,” he says, reaching into the box and pulling out a small piece of flexible plastic - a guitar pick.

“You’re lucky I happened to be in the area when they went on sale,” she says cutely. The opposite is true - it took an hour and a half drive to the other side of Seoul to pick them up from a music store in the middle of nowhere.

“Thank you, little one,” he says, that smile never leaving his lips, as he reaches forward and ruffles her blonde hair a little bit. It was a simple, meaningless gesture to him, but her heart skips a beat at his touch. 

There is a knock on the door, and it opens slightly. A woman appears in the doorway, wearing a baggy hoodie, large sunglasses, and a snapback. Even in casual clothing, she is the very picture of demure femininity, her long legs and round face unable to be missed by anyone who observed her. Ever respectful, she offers a bow to the both of them. 

Immediately she recognizes the new woman. Suddenly, she is very aware of herself, and how she compared to the woman in the doorway. She was shorter, her legs not as long, her face not as classically beautiful, her hair not as ladylike or elegant. Nor is she as popular or successful - the new woman was not only the youngest member of the nation’s leading girl group, but also a well-rounded, intelligent and beautiful woman in her own right, possessing a university degree to go along with the adoration and praise of an entire country.

But that is all almost irrelevant; what she is most jealous of is the look on the man’s face when he sees her. It is instantly brightened, and where before there was simple friendship, there was now a look that could only be described as one of love.

“Well, I have to go - my wife is here,” he says, and with a last smile, he turns and walks towards the doorway. The woman in the doorway nods and smiles at her - she is, after all, one of the trusted few who knows of their relationship.

She returns the smile, hoping doing so will hide her broken heart.

The man and woman leave the cafeteria, leaving her alone once again. She picks up her cell phone and half-empty coffee, tossing it into the bin on the way out where it will lie next to the discarded blue ribbons. She has her own schedule to get to - as fate would have it (and it is often cruel) she is headed to a recording for the virtual marriage show that the man and woman were once a part of. As she leaves the room, she turns to her right to see the them walking down the hallway.

As the man and woman walk away from her, the woman links her arm in the man’s and leans closely to him as they disappear around a corner.

She has almost everything one could desire. 

But at that moment, as she turns and walks away and feels a knot form in and tears form behind her eyes, she wishes she were someone else.