Last Train to Seoul: 운명
Morning Realities
The first light of dawn seeped gently through the window of the guesthouse room where Ha-eun had spent the night, the soft glow painting the space with quiet anticipation. Outside, the city was beginning to stir, the distant hum of trains and early morning traffic threading through the awakening streets.
Ha-eun’s thoughts drifted back to last night the warmth of the café, Ji-won’s kind smile, the hushed conversations that lingered like a secret shared against the backdrop of pouring rain. But as the sun climbed, the fragile bubble of their connection began to feel heavier, more complicated.
Her phone vibrated softly on the bedside table. A message from Jung So-min, Ji-won’s fiancée, appeared: *“Meeting at noon today. Please confirm.”*
The weight of reality pressed down on her chest. Somewhere between the fleeting moments of the night and the responsibilities of the day, a gulf yawned wide.
She brewed a cup of coffee, hands trembling slightly as she stared out at the busy streets below. The noise of the city seemed louder now, insistent and unrelenting.
A missed call glowed on her screen Ji-won’s name shining like a fading star she wasn’t sure she should reach for.
Ha-eun sighed, her heart aching with a mixture of hope and sorrow. Some trains, she realized, don’t wait for anyone they move on, leaving behind the echoes of what could have been.
Despite the brewing storm of complications, a small spark of something unspoken remained a promise caught between despair and possibility.