The gentle hum of the train blended with the soft tapping of rain against the window. Kim Seonhyuk sat silently, his gaze fixed on the blurred countryside rushing past. Everything outside was tinted in hues of green and violet—South Korea's spring was beginning to bloom. Yet, inside him, the world felt muted.
He exhaled slowly, the kind of breath one takes after leaving behind something heavy. Seoul was behind him now—its noise, its expectations, the memories he didn't dare carry with him any longer. What he needed was distance. Space to breathe. Time to heal.
His fingers toyed with the corner of his sketchbook, the edges worn from years of use. Once, his world was filled with color—paint, pencils, dreams. But ever since the breakup that shattered more than just his heart, he hadn't drawn a single line. The muse had left him, and so had the will.
Namwon. A small town nestled between rolling hills and lavender fields. That was where he was headed. He remembered it only vaguely from a childhood trip—his grandmother's soft hands, the scent of flowers, the laughter of simpler days. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a version of himself there that still believed in beauty.
The train slowed as it approached the station. Seonhyuk gathered his things, slinging a leather satchel over his shoulder. He stepped off the train, and a breeze greeted him—cool, fresh, and fragrant with lavender.
And there, across the platform, she stood.
Gabriella.
Wearing a soft purple dress that danced in the wind, she held a bundle of lavender in her hands, her long hair gently swaying with the breeze. Her eyes met his—curious, warm, and strangely familiar, as if they'd met in another life.
In that fleeting moment, Seonhyuk felt something stir inside him.
He didn't know it yet, but the journey he thought was an escape… was actually a beginning.
The scent of lavender lingered in the air as Kim Seonhyuk stepped off the platform. The town of Namwon greeted him with a peaceful stillness, broken only by the occasional chatter of villagers and the distant sound of birds. It felt untouched by time—so different from the suffocating pace of Seoul.
Gabriella didn't approach him, not at first. She simply turned and began walking toward the exit, her bundle of flowers held gently to her chest. Seonhyuk, unsure if the encounter was real or imagined, blinked once—then followed, pulled by a quiet instinct.
He didn't know her name. He didn't know why she looked at him like that, like he was a chapter she hadn't finished reading. But something about her presence settled the restlessness inside him.
Outside the station, the world opened up into fields painted in lavender and soft sunlight. A small truck was parked nearby. Gabriella placed the bundle carefully in the back and turned to him, a polite smile forming on her lips.
"You're new here," she said in lightly accented Korean. "I don't recognize you."
Her voice was calm, unhurried, like the town itself.
"I just arrived," Seonhyuk replied. "Kim Seonhyuk."
"Gabriella," she offered, extending a hand. "I run the flower shop by the river."
He shook her hand, and it surprised him how grounding her touch felt. She wasn't just beautiful—there was something raw and real in her energy. Someone who had also known loss, maybe.
"Well, welcome to Namwon," she said, gesturing to the road. "It's quiet here. You might like it."
"I hope so," he murmured, watching as she climbed into her truck and started the engine. She gave him a small wave before driving off, the lavender fields blurring behind her like a dream fading at sunrise.
Seonhyuk stood there for a moment longer, the wind teasing the hem of his coat.
He hadn't planned to meet anyone—not yet. But fate, it seemed, had its own brushstrokes to paint into his story.