“Unnie, someday I will be a superstar!” I remember a 10-year-old me beaming at my favourite unnie.

I remember her saying,

“And I will be right behind you; I will be your number 1 fan, Seulgi-yah”

But where is she now that I’m successful?

///

“Unnie, I got into a company!! I will be training there to become an idol!” I remember sharing the good news to her.

She is the first one whom I shared the news to, not my parents nor my siblings.

“That’s a great news, Seulgi-yah! Do you want to go to the karaoke to celebrate?”

I remember spending the whole night with her singing like there’s no tomorrow.

But now why am I spending some time at the karaoke alone?

///

“Unnie, I’m leaving tomorrow because I have to start my training.” I remember crying with her at a nearby playground, hugging me like it’s gonna stop me from going.

I remember her saying,

“Seulgi-yah, when you’re famous already, don’t forget your Baechu-unnie, okay?”

I remember her wiping my tears with the back of her hand as I nodded to her request.

“I will never forget you, Unnie. You will always be right here.” I remember saying those words as I pointed in my chest where my heart is.

But now why does it feel like you never existed at all?

///

I remember exchanging letters and emails with her every now and then. I remember her letters being at least 7-pages long. I remember her saying words of encouragement. I remember those letters saying,

“Seulgi-yah, how are you? I hope you can visit us soon. Unnie misses you so much. Please don’t be too stressed. You can do it, Seulgi-yah! I can’t wait for you to become a performer.”

But on my fifth year of training, her letters seemed shorter than ever. She would send it every other month. And honest