Hana's Quiet Storm
The next morning, Hana sat on the floor of the bookstore, surrounded by newly delivered boxes. Her fingers worked quickly, slicing open the tape, sorting books by title and genre. The smell of fresh paper filled the air with a comforting scent.
She glanced at the clock. 8:12 a.m. Her shift at the art studio started in less than an hour. She moved faster.
Her phone buzzed.
Mom.
She wiped her hands on her apron and answered. "Hi, eomma."
"Sweetheart, don't forget dinner tonight. Your brother is bringing Haeun today you know, the one he's going to marry," her mother's voice chirped from the other end. "You haven't seen them since the engagement."
"I remember, I'll be there," Hana replied, already pulling her coat on.
She sprinted to the bus stop, just in time to catch the 8:25 p.m. As she sank into a window seat, her phone vibrated again. A new message from her mom: Don't be late. Appa bought wine. We're celebrating early.
She smiled softly, then flicked through her notifications. One post caught her eye:
#MinjiSpotted #V1CE
Minji of V1CE spotted at an ice cream stand, which flavor do you think he bought? accompanied by a blurry photo.
Her thumb hovered above the screen. The comments rolled in, fast and obsessed:
"Oppaaa!" "He looks so dreamy, even in a mask!" "Is he okay? He looks so handsome😘…"
Her chest tightened.
She could see it. Beneath the disguise and sunglasses, there was a boy tired of being looked at and never seen. The boy who'd sat at her table and said nothing but wore grief in his silence.
She logged out of Instagram.
That world his world was just too loud.
By the time she arrived home that evening, the house buzzed with chatter. Her brother, Sunwoo, was setting the table, Haeun arranging flowers. Her parents hovered near the kitchen, already laughing over memories.
It was a warm home, filled with noise and love. A place where she could be just Hana not someone's fantasy or trending hashtag.
Her father asked her about the bookstore, and she spoke about the kids who came in to listen to stories. Her mother pressed her again about her job situation.
"You're always running around, Hana," her mom said gently. "Why don't you settle down and focus on just one thing? Maybe art?"
Hana smiled but didn't answer. How could she explain the feeling that she was always trying to prove she could stay afloat in a city that didn't wait for anyone?
After dinner, Sunwoo and Haeun sat beside her in the living room, showing her wedding invitation drafts. Hana offered to paint a custom design, and Haeun's eyes lit up.
"That would mean so much," she said.
Later that night, Hana slipped outside to the backyard, sat beneath the plum tree, and opened her sketchbook. Her pencil danced over the page.
A boy in a hoodie. Alone at a table. A coffee growing cold in front of him.
She paused, then added a second figure.
A girl. Sitting across from him.
They didn't speak. But they saw each other.
And for now, maybe that was enough.
----
The next afternoon, Hana was crouched behind the café near the alley where delivery trucks usually passed. A little girl, around five, was sitting on a crate, tears streaming down her face over a fallen ice cream. Her mother had stepped inside for a moment, and the girl had panicked dropping her ice cream.
"It's okay," Hana said gently, crouching beside her. "She'll be back in just a moment. Want to count with me?"
The child sniffled but nodded, wiping her cheeks.
Hana smiled, pointing toward the light drizzle falling just beyond the shade. "One, two, three..."
"Four," another voice joined in.
She turned.
Minji.
He stood a few feet away, a to-go coffee in one hand, umbrella in the other. He looked like a normal young man in hoodie, jeans, cap. But his eyes gave him away.
She felt a strange pull. Like something about him always existed in quiet corners.
"Hi again," he said softly.
"Hi," she replied, a little surprised. "Second time today."
He knelt beside the little girl too, helping distract her with gentle smiles and silly questions. When the child's mother returned, breathless and apologetic, the girl was already laughing.
Minji and Hana watched them walk away.
"You're good with kids," he said.
"You too," she answered. "That's not something many people notice about you, I guess."
He gave a tired chuckle. "They notice other things."
A pause. Then he hesitated, pulling out his phone. "Would it be okay if I messaged you? Sometimes... I think I need someone who doesn't talk to me like I'm a headline."
Hana smiled softly and entered her number into his phone. "Only if you don't ghost me."
That night, after washing up, Hana sat on her bed when her phone lit up.
Unknown Number: Thanks again. You were a little peace in my day.
She didn't reply immediately. Just stared at the screen, her heart light and uncertain.
Then she typed:
Hana: You're welcome. Maybe peace is meant to be shared.