Saturday afternoon, a brunch cafe in Hannam-dong, Seoul.

The late spring sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows paints soft textures on the wooden tables.

The light is warm, and the air is lightly buoyant. The typical weekend bustle fills the space.

The clinking of glasses, low bursts of laughter, and the occasional click of a camera shutter. Someone was recording this time, and someone else was already living a sufficiently satisfying moment.

In a corner of the cafe, a seat by the window. Shim Jina sat slightly away from the center of it all.

An iced americano in her hand. With the straw lightly between her lips, she tilts her head down slightly to look at her phone screen.

For a moment, the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

Notifications popping up at the top of the screen. Instagram DMs. One, and then another.

They were the kind of messages she was already used to. As if there were no need to even check the content, her finger indifferently swipes across the screen. Deleting their existence without even reading them.

"Ah, seriously. Again."

A small mutter escapes her. There was annoyance in those words, but it wasn't an entirely new emotion.

Just then, the sound of the door opening comes from the cafe entrance.

Ding.

With the small chime, a draft of outside air seeps in. A late spring breeze. Light, but with a distinctly different temperature.

That breeze very lightly brushes against the tips of Jina's hair.