Yoona’s gaze lingers on the bustling scene outside the airport window, her reflection mingling with the sea of travellers hurrying past. She’s about to board a flight to Japan, the first stop in a series of back-to-back movie promotions and fan meetings spanning several countries. As she sits in the departure lounge, her mind drifts to Junho, encapsulating the physical distance that mirrors the growing emotional gap between them.

 

Why does it feel like we’re worlds apart even when we’re in the same room?

 

Yoona muses, her heart aching with a mix of longing and sorrow. She fishes out her phone from her bag, scrolling through their recent messages—a mixture of missed calls, brief updates, and the ever-present promises to “catch up soon.”

 

A new message from Junho lights up her screen, breaking through the dull hum of her rising loneliness.

 

“Heading to dinner in Paris tonight. I’ll call you afterward. Miss you.”

 

Yoona smiles faintly, typing back a quick, “Safe dinner. Talk soon. Miss you more.”

 

But the smile is short-lived, fading as quickly as it appeared. She leans back, closing her eyes, allowing herself a moment to feel the full weight of her solitude.

 

Paris. So far away. Yet another glamorous evening without me. 

 

The thought is bitter, tainted with an envy she despises. 

 

But it’s his work, just like mine is here. Why does it feel like we’re drifting apart?

 

Her phone buzzes again, a notification from an app showing the time in Paris.

 

He’ll be having dinner soon. And I’ll be up in the sky, chasing time, chasing dreams… or am I just running away?

 

“Flight 210 to Tokyo is now boarding at gate 15. Flight 210 to Tokyo, gate 15.”

 

The announcement snaps Yoona out of her reverie. She stands, shouldering her bag, a determined set to her jaw. 

 

We’ll figure this out, she resolves, stepping into the flow of passengers. We have to.

 

As she walks towards the gate, each step feels heavier, burdened not just by the physical distance that’ll soon stretch even wider but by the silent fear that, perhaps, some distances grow too vast to bridge.

 

But not us. We can’t let that happen. Not after everything we’ve been through.

 

The thought is a whisper of hope, a silent prayer to the universe as she hands her boarding pass to the attendant.

 

“Have a good flight, Ms. Lim.”

 

“Thank you,” Yoona replies, stepping through the gate, her heart heavy with unspoken words and a love that refuses to be dimmed by distance. 

 

Junho, wait for me. We’ll find our way back to each other. We have to.

 

As the plane takes off, leaving Seoul behind, Yoona gazes out the window, the city lights fading into the darkness. She imagines Junho in Paris, the City of Lights, and wonders if he’s looking up at the same sky, thinking of her too.

 

---

 

As Yoona’s tour moves from one city to another, the exhilaration of meeting fans and performing does little to fill the growing void in her heart. From Tokyo’s neon lights to Singapore’s vibrant streets, each holds a piece of her spirit, yet none can compare to the comfort of home, of Junho’s presence. Alone in her hotel room, the walls seem to echo her loneliness, a stark reminder of the distance between them.

 

Is this what it means to have it all?

 

She wonders one night, sitting alone in her hotel room after a particularly draining fan meeting. The glamour of her life, so envied by many, feels hollow without Junho to share it with. She checks her phone for the umpteenth time, hoping for a message, a sign that despite the distance, they’re still tethered by the invisible thread of their connection.

 

When did our lives become this series of missed connections?

 

Yoona wonders, her gaze resting on the silent phone. The constant travel, the endless promotions, have left her feeling adrift, disconnected not just from Junho but from herself. She longs for a simple evening together, a respite from the chaos of her schedule.

 

Meanwhile, Junho’s commitments in Paris, from brand events to late-night strategy meetings, leave him stretched thin. Each success is a step forward for his career, yet with each step, he feels further from Yoona. The city of lights offers little solace to his weary heart, its beauty a dull ache reminding him of what he’s missing.

 

The night he promises to call Yoona, Junho is caught in a whirlwind of unexpected reunions. A casual dinner with industry friends turns into an evening of reminiscences, each laugh and story a temporary balm for his loneliness. Yet, as time slips by, the promise to Yoona fades into the background, lost amidst the evening’s festivities.

 

As the evening wears on, the promise to Yoona slips further from his mind, buried under layers of conversation and fine wine. It’s only when he finally glances at his phone, the screen lit up with missed calls and messages from Yoona, that the realization hits him like a cold wave.

 

God, I forgot to call her.

 

The guilt is immediate, sharp. He steps away from the table, trying to dial Yoona, but the call goes straight to voicemail. 

 

She must be asleep by now… or worse, waiting for my call.

 

He texts Yoona, an apology laced with the hope she’ll understand, but the sinking feeling in his gut tells him it won’t be enough. As the laughter from within the restaurant continues to echo, Junho stands alone in the cool night air, the stark silence around him amplifying the turmoil within.

 

How did I let this happen?

 

Junho grapples with the realization that in trying to hold onto everything, he’s at risk of losing what matters most.

 

---

 

Back in her hotel room, Yoona stares at the screen of her phone, Junho’s message glaring back at her. Yoona’s disappointment turns to pain as she sees the notification.

 

“Sorry, love. Dinner ran late. Miss you.”

 

It’s a simple explanation, one she’d usually accept without question, but tonight, it feels like a chasm opening between them.

 

The hurt is palpable, a tangible ache in her chest. She’d seen the photos online, Junho laughing, surrounded by friends in a cozy Parisian bistro. 

 

He looks happy. Did he even remember his promise to call?

 

Yoona’s mind races, doubts and fears swirling in a maelstrom of emotions. The distance, once a mere physical barrier, now feels insurmountable, a growing gap fueled by missed calls and broken promises.

 

She tries to sleep, but rest eludes her, the bed too big, too empty without Junho. 

 

Is this what we’ve become? Strangers living separate lives?

 

The thought haunts her, a specter of loneliness in the cold, impersonal hotel room.

 

As dawn paints the sky with the promise of a new day, Yoona faces a decision. This pattern of missed moments and silent grievances can’t continue. The need to confront the reality of their relationship, to find a way back to each other, or risk losing what they’ve fought so hard to build.

 

But first, she has to face another day, another city, another stage. The show must go on, even as her heart yearns for a reconciliation that seems just beyond reach.

 

---

 

Junho wakes up to a quiet room, the silence more pronounced after last night’s festivities. The fleeting joy he found in the company of friends feels hollow now, replaced by a gnawing guilt that settles heavy in his stomach. He picks up his phone, noting the date and time, and his heart sinks. The promise to call Yoona, to hear her voice after days of silence, lay forgotten amidst the laughter and clinking glasses.

 

How could I have been so careless?

 

Junho chastises himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He imagines Yoona, perhaps waiting for his call, feeling neglected and sidelined. The thought twists in him sharply, a reminder of the delicate balance they’ve been trying to maintain between their love and their demanding careers.

 

Junho knows that an apology is due, but more than that, he needs to make Yoona feel seen, valued, beyond just words. He dials her number, his heart thudding in his chest, hoping she’ll pick up.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

---

 

The phone rings, and Yoona stares at it, conflicted. Part of her yearns to hear Junho’s voice, to let his soothing words wash over her hurt, but another part resists, the fresh sting of last night’s disappointment holding her back. Each ring is a beacon, pulling her towards the possibility of reconciliation, yet she remains motionless, caught in a storm of emotion.

 

Should I just pick up? Is it enough to hear him apologize?

 

The question echoes in her mind, bouncing off the walls of her indecision. The longing to hear Junho’s voice, a familiar comfort that might ease the sharp edges of her hurt, clashes with the reality of their situation. The missed call from last night isn’t just a small oversight; it’s a symbol of the growing distance between them, a chasm widened by unfulfilled promises and the relentless demands of their high-profile lives.

 

Yoona’s heart is a battlefield. Her heart aches for the simplicity  and joy of their early days, before the relentless pace of their careers began to test the strength of their bond. The weight of her disappointment sits heavy on her shoulders, a tangible reminder of how much has changed.

 

Is hearing ‘I’m sorry’ enough to mend what’s been broken?

 

She contemplates, her gaze locked on the phone as it continues its insistent plea for her attention. Her thumb hovers over the accept button, a lifeline to Junho—the man she loves yet struggles to understand amidst the chaos of their lives.

 

Yet, the fear of vulnerability holds her back. The prospect of breaking down, of revealing the depth of her hurt over a mere phone call, paralyzes her. It’s a level of vulnerability she’s not sure she’s ready to confront, not when the wound is still fresh, not when she’s unsure if Junho’s words will heal or merely mask the deeper issues at play.

 

With a heavy heart, Yoona lets the phone ring, choosing the silence of unanswered questions over the uncertainty of Junho’s apologies. The echo of the ringing fades into the quiet of the room, leaving Yoona alone with her thoughts and the lingering shadow of their past joys. 

 

The decision to not answer, to let the call go to voicemail, is more than a momentary choice; it’s a reflection of the distance that has grown between them, a gap that words alone may not be able to bridge.

 

As the silence settles around her, Yoona is left to ponder the future of their relationship, a future that, for the moment, remains uncertain, suspended in the silence that follows the unanswered call.