Yesung sat on the worn sofa, his gaze lost in the ceiling’s expanse. The question echoed within him like a haunting refrain: “She loves me?” Yet, he dared not assume; love was a fragile melody, easily misread.

His manager’s call disrupted the reverie, pulling him back to reality. The recording session had been a tempest of distraction, notes slipping through his grasp like sand. Apologies tumbled from his lips—this wasn’t the Yesung they knew. As Super Junior’s main vocal, he bore the weight of perfection, but today, he faltered.

Outside, the van awaited, ready to ferry him back to the dorms. The world blurred as he stepped inside, thoughts weaving a tapestry of uncertainty. “Who was she singing about in those lyrics?” he wondered. “Had she ever whispered love’s secret to anyone?”

But time had slipped through their fingers, like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yesung hadn’t made room for her lately—his best friend, the enigmatic Mimi. The cafe, once their sanctuary, now stood empty, its warmth replaced by silence.

In the dorm’s kitchen, Eunhyuk’s voice sliced through the air. “Hey Berry! How was the move?” Yesung’s heart raced. Berry—Mimi—his muse and confidante. The dancer’s cryptic conversation fueled his frustration.

“Is that Mimi?” Yesung’s voice trembled, fingers clenching Eunhyuk’s collar. The younger man’s cold gaze met his. “Why do you care?” Eunhyuk’s words cut deep. “You’ve ignored her for months.”

"I...Min Jee..."

"Psh. Whatever Hyung."

"Where is she?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

“She hasn’t answered my calls or messages!” Yesung’s anguish spilled forth. “I’ve searched the cafe, but she’s vanished. And now, the song—the collaboration."

Heechul’s voice, sharp as a blade, pierced the tension. “Obtuse Jongwoon,” he spat. “Your obliviousness drove her away.”

“She left?” Yesung’s world crumbled. “Why?” he implored, eyes locking with Heechul’s. “What did I miss?”

“Berry left a week ago,” Eunhyuk confessed, and Yesung’s heart shattered.

Yesung’s heartache echoed through the dorm, reverberating off the walls like a forgotten melody. The room, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now held only shadows.

Heechul’s words lingered, a bitter truth etched into Yesung’s soul. “It’s your fault that Mimbap left.” The nickname, once endearing, now felt like a curse. Yesung had been blind, consumed by his fame and obligations. The cafe, where Mimi’s laughter once danced, now stood as a silent witness to his neglect.

Heechul’s gaze softened, revealing a hint of sympathy. “She left a week ago,” Eunhyuk repeated, his voice a solemn refrain. “Mimi…she left me…” Yesung’s whisper hung in the air, fragile as a petal caught in a storm.

The dorm’s walls seemed to close in, memories crashing like waves against his chest. Mimi’s eyes, the colour of forgotten dreams, haunted him. She’d penned lyrics that bared her soul, melodies that whispered secrets. And he, the oblivious muse, had missed it all.

“Why?” Yesung’s voice cracked. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He searched for answers in the empty spaces—the coffee-stained tables, the worn-out piano keys. “Did she sing the guide for our collaboration, knowing I’d never truly hear it?”

Heechul’s sigh cut through the tension. “She loved you,” he confessed, voice raw. “But love isn’t a static note—it’s a symphony. You played your part, Jongwoon, but she needed more.”

Yesung’s fingers traced the invisible lines of their friendship. “Where did she go?” he murmured as if the walls held secrets. “Why didn’t she say goodbye?”

“She left a letter.” Leeteuk’s voice, gentle yet firm, drew Yesung’s gaze. The letter lay on the coffee table, its edges creased from countless readings. “Read it,” Leeteuk urged. “Maybe then you’ll understand.”

Yesung unfolded the paper, Mimi’s handwriting dancing across the page:

"Dear Jongwoon,

By the time you read this, I’ll be far away. The cafe, our sanctuary, now echoes with silence. I sang the guide for our collaboration, hoping you’d hear my heart. But you were lost in your own spotlight.

I loved you, not as a friend, but as the notes that weave our melodies. Yet, love isn’t a solo act—it’s a duet. And I can’t sing alone.

Remember the special drink I made for you? It was my secret recipe—a blend of chamomile and stardust. It lulled you to sleep, chasing away the demons that haunted your dreams.

But I’m tired, Jongwoon. Tired of being the invisible muse, the unsung lyricist. I’m chasing my own dreams now, leaving behind the cafe’s faded warmth.

Find your rhythm, my dear friend. Maybe one day, our melodies will harmonize again.

With love,

Mimi"

Yesung clutched the letter, tears blurring the ink. The cafe’s door swung open, revealing Hana—the steadfast barista who’d witnessed it all. She held a cup, steam curling from its rim.

“For you,” Hana said, her eyes kind. “Mimi’s secret blend. Chamomile and stardust.”

Yesung sipped, tasting memories and regrets. The room seemed to exhale, releasing the echoes of love and loss. He vowed to find her, to chase their duet across the world.