Jieun’s POV

            When we arrived at the international airport, we took a long time saying our goodbyes. Sunhwa clung to my arm and begged Youngjae for his cell phone so that we could take a selca together. We ended up taking over twelve. During the flight I learned that Youngjae’s family is head of a construction company, and their current project included building a strip mall just a few communities down from the Vancouver branch. Even though it felt like a farewell now, I knew I’d be seeing the two of them again. I chuckled at the blurry selcas taken by Sunhwa’s shaky and hands, and she looked displeased by it.

            “Can you take one?” Sunhwa handed Youngjae’s cell phone to me and I gladly took it, holding it firm and steady for one last photo.

            “Youngjae Oppa, too!” Sunhwa smiled, pulling her older brother’s sleeve. He bent his knees behind us so that his chin rested on top of Sunhwa’s head.

            “1… 2… 3…” I did a countdown, and the three of us held onto our brightest smiles. My thumb hit the camera button and a quick snap sound signaled the success of the photo.

            “It’s time to go now. Mom and dad are expecting us for dinner.” Youngjae pat Sunhwa on the head and she pouted. “You can play with Jieun Unnie more another day, okay?” He had a skill for coaxing younger kids. In almost no time at all, Sunhwa’s face had lightened up with a cheerful smile again. We exchanged business cards and numbers, and then we were on our way. I hadn’t expected to make some new friends on the flight back, but I was glad that I had.

            None of the hotel staff were here to welcome my return, just as I had wanted. I needed solitude to ready my mind for work in Vancouver again, as well as inevitably seeing Daehyun. I sighed heavily, clutching my cell phone that had been off the entire flight. Waiting at the bus terminal just outside the airport, I watched people get off and on different busses. I saw kids jumping off large rocks which surrounded a small memorial statue, and a stranger helping a woman fit a wheelchair through the doors. These were everyday people, children and busybodies who were all on their individual journeys through life. I saw a child trip over a branch, scraping his knee on the cement, and an older business man scrambling frantically through his briefcase for something he had misplaced as he mumbled angrily to himself. There were so many people here, all at different stages in life, simultaneously making contributing to this moment. I silently wished that I’d had grown up in a typical life like the people around me.

            I could have been the late woman running after a bus with her hand reaching out, as if touching the bumper would make it stop for her. I could have been the little girl picking flowers by the statue, forming a small bouquet of colors in her hand. I didn’t want to be a chaebol, I just wanted to be like everyone else. And during this moment, where no one knew who I was, where no one cared enough to give me a second thought, I was living transparently as if I was like everyone else, and I wanted to cherish it.

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            I dozed off a little on the bus ride to the hotel. It could’ve felt a lot longer than it did, but I admittedly felt too jet lagged to keep my eyes open. Normally I’d be more cautious, knowing that nutcases lurked about in public places, especially on busses, but something about the way other passengers sat quietly and read books or newspapers and chatted about past relationships reassured my safety. I’d gotten to my destination unharmed, anyhow, and I hadn’t spoken to anyone since the airport except to thank the bus driver as I hopped off.

            As I approached the front doors, a few guests brushed past my shoulders and went in ahead of me. I stopped beside the front pillar and wondered whether Yongguk had heard about the plane accident. I shook my head stupidly, of course he’d heard it—he doesn’t live under a rock. But it compelled me to wonder, did he know I was safe? Did he know I would be back today? I should have called him the moment I arrived in Canada, but it was too late to dawn on that now. I removed the cap on my head and pushed my sunglasses up to rest on my head. With one deep breath, I entered the lobby.

            “Welcome back, Song Jieun-sshi,” The receptionist on shift smiled at me as she bowed. I bowed back and continued on my way to my office just beside the front desk. Not much had changed as far as I could tell, except the flickering light bulb near the left wing had been changed. I wasn’t sure what sort of change I was expecting in my absence; all I cared about was to see Yongguk again. I stood against the closed door and leaned in, pressing my ear against the wood. For a while, it was so quiet I assumed no one was inside, and then I heard papers ruffling and a drawer sliding shut. Yongguk was here. Hyosung wasn’t returning from her vacation until next weekend.

            It was the first time I felt the need to knock on the doors to my own office, but I didn’t want to abruptly intrude if he was doing something important.

            “Come in,” His muffled voice barely made it past the closed door, but I’d heard it. Suddenly, I felt nervous to see Yongguk again. What if he’d changed over the weeks I was away? Or worse yet… what if he thought I had changed? I hesitated with my hand over the door knob, took another deep breath, and turned, pushing the door open. My eyes widened, seeing Yongguk sitting with perfect posture behind my desk, wearing glasses for the first time with his dress shirt loosely buttoned at the top. He was working more diligently than I’d ever seen him, organizing papers and writing notes in a day planner simultaneously as he switched his gaze from computer screen to desk top. I was so quiet he had probably forgotten someone had just knocked on the door, so I silently watched him work without taking any further steps into the office.

            Where did he get such a refined attention span? Office paper work was the most boring aspect of a high position in any company, and normally I’d get distracted by the nice weather and take frequent breaks to get tea or fresh air. His new-found professionalism impressed me, but I was scared that he’d lost himself in his work, as most people often did. Would he be more critical of me now, and disapprove of my own work ethics? Would he not accept me like the way he used to? The sudden rush of doubt flooded my mind and I felt sick to my stomach. Yongguk was right here, less than three meters away from me and yet I was still scared of seeing him again. I felt weak, and allowed my shoulders to slam against the door to hold me up. The sound snapped Yongguk out of his hardworking trance and made him look up—and our eyes met instantly.

            Yongguk’s hand froze, his right paused above the keyboard midsentence, and his left hand dropped the pen he had been writing with. We were both frozen as ice, but Yongguk was first to defrost. He quickly got up and pushed his chair out to make walking room, yet he stayed behind the desk, watching me in what I can only assume as shock.

            Did he think I was dead? Did he think he was seeing a ghost right now? I couldn’t think of any way to convince him that it really was me. I couldn’t even think straight. I felt my knees becoming weaker, but I held myself up with my hand still firmly holding onto the door knob.

Yongguk’s POV

            I was busy updating the staff list for 2013, making sure all the records on paper matched the online data. The hotel website always kept a list of our staff followed by their positions, though I never understood how guests would ever find a need for something like this. Perhaps it was just a good thing to have, to remind all of us that our staff are human and liked some recognition. My eyes were locked on Jieun’s name, the word ‘director’ sat right beside it. Like this, everything looked orderly, but if she really had died, the list would need to be changed. I didn’t want that.

            There was a gentle knocking on the door, which I thought to be unusual. People usually called my name, and Junior usually opened the door before I even responded. Whoever it was must’ve been someone timid, so I replied with a calm voice as to not startle them. I waited, watching the door, but no one came in. After five seconds, I went back to my work. I was looking all over for Himchan’s name. When Jieun transferred him here, she should have moved his name to the Vancouver branch’s staff list, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. Out of curiosity, I visited the Toronto branch’s website where he previously told me he had worked before his transfer. I had no administrative power on this part of the site, but I was still free to browse the list for Himchan’s name. It was harder because I didn’t know what position he had while he was working there. Perhaps he was a greeter? Something about his bold and straight forward personality disagreed with my guess. Maybe he worked in the kitchen? I couldn’t understand why a kitchen staff would be switched to an office assistant either. I spun the pen in my hand impatiently as I scrolled through the entire list of staff members. The Toronto branch was much bigger than Vancouver’s, as expected from a hotel so close to parliament.

            Still, it didn’t take too long to browse the entire staff list. Toronto must have updated much quicker than us, because Himchan was definitely no longer on their staff list either. I’d forgotten about the person who had knocked on the door, and only looked up when I heard a thump against the door. I blinked several times, fighting the urge to rub my eyes. Was I seeing things?

            In front of me, Jieun leaned against the office door with a frail smile, her left hand pushing at her stomach as if she was in pain. Even though her expression was more solemn, the sunlight traveled through the window behind me and found its way to her. Her face was glowing, and she looked like an angel. Was that what she was? Did Jieun die the day of an accident and became an angel, only deciding to appear in front of me now? I had never thought so long and hard about the afterlife until this moment. I impulsively stood up, my chair pushed back against the wall, yet I couldn’t find the strength to step towards her. There were too many things that I wanted to clarify in my head.

            “Jieun?” I whispered; I didn’t think I was loud enough for her to hear, but at the sound of her name her head perked up and she smiled. It was a smile I missed, and longed to see more than anything. I paused my thoughts and shut out my skepticism. It didn’t matter whether she was really here, or whether she was a ghost or an angel or a hallucination. Right now, with my very own eyes I could see Jieun in front of me smiling—and that was all I wanted. Even if she disappeared in the next second, I would have been content. Without thinking, I found the energy to move forward. As I neared her, her posture became straighter, and that smile never left her face. I pulled her in for the biggest hug I had ever given anyone, and she didn’t disappear. Jieun was still here, and I could feel her breathing against my chest. She was still here with me! I rest my cheek against the top of her head and closed my eyes. I felt her hands gently find their place on my back, and my muscles loosened. She wasn’t dead! She couldn’t be dead! But was this a dream? Was my mind playing some sick joke on me? I still remembered waking up this morning—could that have just been inception?

            “Yongguk-ah,” Jieun whispered my name in a smile I could hear, and lips curved wider than they ever did since she left me those many weeks ago. I didn’t think I knew happiness and relief until today.

            “Is it really you?” I held onto her tighter, scared that my question would trigger something mystical to make her disappear. I wasn’t ready to let her go, but I needed to know that this was real. I felt her head nod before she answered,

            “It’s really me.” Her hands held onto me tighter in response, “I’m back.” I felt my shirt warm up with her wet tears.

            “Welcome back.” I’d been wishing to be able to say those words to her for so long, scared that she would never come back, and scared that I’d never see her again. She nodded again, and I too felt tears welling up in my eyes. In the silence I wished she could hear that in my mind, the only words I could think of were “I love you” and “never leave me again”. 

A/N: BACK WITH AN UPDATE! OH MY GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER WAS SO HARD TO WRITE!!! I seriously.. couldn't think of a better way for them to react to seeing each other again. In my mind it looked really sweet and beautiful--one of those picture perfect moments you'd want to replay in your mind over and over again, but when I tried to write it the way I pictured it in my head... it was just too difficult. Maybe it's because I'm not good at writing intimate scenes but I really tried... haha. Please share your thoughts on this chapter with me in the comments below?^^ 

P.S. You'll see Youngjae again.