When the Han River Sleeps
Quiet Revelations
The first snow of the season fell lightly over Seoul, blanketing the city in whispered white. Yuna stood at her window, watching as the flakes danced down like fragile promises, touching rooftops and riverbanks alike. The air was sharp but still, holding its breath as if the city itself waited for something.
Her phone vibrated softly—a message from Jihoon. “Meet me at 새벽시장. I have something to tell you.”
Heart pounding, Yuna bundled warmly and made her way through the silvery streets. The market was waking, lanterns casting a golden glow on snow-speckled stalls. Jihoon was there, his breath rising in pale clouds, eyes shadowed beneath his knit cap.
He pulled a small package from his coat—a pressed flower encased in delicate paper. “I found this by the river,” he said, voice low. “It reminded me of you—something beautiful that waits quietly, no matter the season.”
Yuna’s fingers brushed the package, warmth blooming in her chest. “Why did you ask me here?” she finally whispered.
Jihoon hesitated, then spoke as if weighing each word carefully. “I’ve been afraid—of losing what we’re building, of the past still holding me back. But you’ve shown me that some things are worth facing.”
Snow drifted down again as they stood beneath softly glowing lanterns, the moment fragile and perfect.
“Let’s keep walking forward,” Jihoon said, “together. Through every season.”
Yuna nodded, feeling the river’s quiet strength within her—a silent promise that, no matter the cold, love could light the way.