When the Han River Sleeps
Crossing Bridges
Rain began softly—a tinkling rhythm against the tiled rooftops, mingling with the evening’s quiet murmur. Yuna stood beneath the awning of a small bookstore, watching droplets race down fogged glass, the city reflected like gasps of light in the wet streets. The scent of wet earth mixed with memories, bittersweet and raw.
Jihoon appeared, umbrella tilted just enough to catch the rain’s curtain without fully protecting himself. His smile was a half-laugh, as if sharing a secret the rain alone understood. “You never said you liked storms,” he teased, stepping closer.
“I like the calm after,” she replied, her voice soft, layered with something unspoken.
They crossed the bridge over 한강, the river swollen and dark beneath them, carrying the city’s secrets and whispered wishes. The narrow path was slick with scattered petals, like fragile hopes beneath their feet.
“Have you ever wondered what lies beneath all the bridges we cross?” Jihoon asked, voice low, watching the river’s restless flow.
Yuna glanced sideways, heart fluttering. “Maybe it’s not about what’s beneath, but who’s walking across with us.”
Jihoon’s fingers found hers instinctively, tentative but sure. The warmth of their touch echoed louder than the rain.
At a nearby café, they sat beneath a window fogged with breath, the quiet buzz of afternoon chatter wrapping around them. Yuna unfolded her sketchbook, revealing new drawings—soft, fleeting impressions of moments they’d shared. Jihoon traced a line with a fingertip, a silent promise passing between them.
Outside, lanterns began to glow, flickering like shy stars awakening. Yuna leaned back, silent, feeling the weight of the day settle into something like peace—fragile, but real.
Jihoon breathed out slowly, “Sometimes I think we build our own bridges—through music, through art, through silent understanding. And maybe… that’s how we find home.”
Yuna’s eyes shimmered, reflecting the city’s gentle glow. “Home isn’t just a place,” she whispered, “it’s the crossing. It’s who we become while walking across.”
The rain died away, leaving behind a quiet promise. Beneath the bridges of Seoul, two hearts slowly found a rhythm in the river’s endless dance.