SoMi's life was quiet over the next few weeks. There was no drama or excitement, just a nice, steady rhythm. The days went by in a blink, like scenes from an old movie: grey-beige, predictable, barely warm. She was so busy enjoying the moment that she hardly noticed how most of the manuscript was already finished. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but also really nice — she managed to meet her deadlines and even find time to work on a new story! At last, her long-held dream was back on the horizon — more vivid than ever.
Evenings at home were like a warm, soothing bath – it was the perfect way to unwind. SoMi didn't turn on the music — even though her neighbour had been gone for over two weeks — but her headphones with the background soundtrack were still playing. The dim light in the living room, the huge window showing the whole city at night, the cup of tea with a bit of ginger — and she could write until morning. The first rays of the sun no longer surprised her, but simply reminded her that it was time for a short sleep.
But something just wasn't quite right. It was as if someone was always there, but they were just quiet. Maybe she missed her neighbour's teasing about loud music, or his playful nudging on the wall when she "overdid it" with night dancing. The emptiness crept up quietly, like a cat. I found that fitness helped me a little. Her muscles ached, but it felt good to know that something in her body was still working.
One evening, her friends surprised her by turning up unannounced. They said they were coming over and that SoMi had to cook pork. She didn't even argue, which was really sweet of her. The thought of spending the evening with him cheered her up. At the supermarket, she was as busy as a bee, filling her cart with everything she needed, including, of course, the soju. The bags were heavy, but she carried them with the persistence of a woman.
She worked her magic in the kitchen, just like she used to when she cooked for her ex-husband's relatives. The table was full of delicious food, and as soon as she sat down on the sofa, the phone rang. Lee-hyun's voice was quiet and apologetic:
"Min-ji and we can't come after all. Our plans have changed."
SoMi pressed her lips together, swallowed her disappointment and sighed.
"Who's going to enjoy all this now?"
At that moment, she heard the familiar sound of the door opening — her neighbour had returned. She rushed into the hallway.
"Do Hwan, you're home?"
"Yes, finally home," he smiled. "Tired, but tanned. Almost like in a shampoo advert."
"Are you hungry?" she asked, barely audibly.
"What?" he asked, leaning closer.
"I made dinner for the girls, but they're not coming. There's enough food on the table."
"So, are you inviting me?"
"If you want it."
"Gladly." I'll just take a shower and be right there."
"Great! I'll be waiting!" She jumped up and ran inside.
"Tshhh, she's all grown up, but she still acts like a schoolgirl." he muttered as he entered his apartment.
Do Hwan didn't waste any time. After a quick shower, he changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants and grabbed some beer. Then he was already entering the code on his neighbour's door. He knew the code. He was allowed to use it.
SoMi was mixing something into the sauce when he arrived, and his eyes widened.
"Wow! Looks like the party was supposed to be with the film crew."
"Come in, don't be shy."
"I brought beer, but it looks kind of modest compared to the soju."
"The girls and I have a lot to discuss from the last century." she smiled, pouring drinks.
"Just be careful with the strong stuff — I have a contract."
"Is acting always so difficult?"
"It's not always as glamorous as fans think: Gym, diet, insomnia. And fan service.
"I go to the gym too. But without the fan service."
"Cool. What made you start?"
"I just realised that I was living a life that had nothing to do with my dreams. Now that I can, I'm making it happen."
"That's brave."
He paused, looked her in the eyes and said quietly,
"Can I ask you something personal?"
"Yes, of course."
"That evening, when I was at your place, I looked further down the hallway. I saw a photo of your wedding. I also saw a divorce certificate."
SoMi wasn't surprised. She sighed and smiled gently.
"Oh, that? What exactly are you interested in?"
"Just... why? But if you don't want to, you don't have to answer."
"Just... I realised that I was unhappy in my marriage," said SoMi, staring into an empty glass as if she could find the answer she had been looking for for years. "Before the wedding, everything was like a washing powder advert: smiles, walks, hugs. But then everyday life consumed everything. I worked from morning till night, while he sat at home getting by on temporary jobs, which usually ended with him drinking with his friends. I carried this burden for ten years, rushing from the office to the pots and pans, the washing dishes and the vacuum cleaner. Then, after another argument, I looked at him and realised — I don't love him anymore. There was nothing left. Only silence. The next day, I filed for divorce. He didn't object. He didn't even try to stop me.
"Ah, now everything is clear..." Do Hwan nodded. But it wasn't "now everything is clear"; it was "I understand why you are so... so beautiful, broken and bright all at once."
But she didn't stop. Glass after glass passed her lips, and with every story she told, the room grew warmer, despite the spring storm raging outside. She told him almost everything: ten years of marriage without flowers, coffee in bed, surprises or warm embraces. Only grey mornings and even greyer evenings.
Drunken truth is the most sincere. Her favourite music played in the background, as it does in popular romantic dramas, but this was her reality. When the tears flowed, Do Hwan was not afraid. He became her vest. Not the fluffy kind, but the kind that keeps you afloat when it seems like you've learned to drown better than to live.
"I dreamed so much of romance." she whispered, swaying from the alcohol and her emotions. "He never gave me flowers, not even the discounted ones. He never brought me coffee in bed on Sundays when I wanted to laze around. He never made me soup when I was lying there with a fever of 39°C and hallucinating. Never..."
She began to cry, not for show, but sincerely and beautifully. Do Hwan remained silent. This was not the moment to speak. This was the moment to listen.
"Do you know what I dream about now that I'm free?" Her voice trembled like a candle flame. "I dream of trips to islands. Of night drives through the city with music so loud that it makes my heart beat in time with it. I dream of foot massages on the beach. I dream of massages where I moan not from pain, but from pleasure. I want to walk under cherry trees all day and eat ice cream... Oh wait, we've already done that. Remember when we were coming back from dancing?"
"Do you have any big dreams?" Do Hwan asked quietly, so as not to spoil the moment.
"Yes." She immediately downed another shot. "I want to publish my book. I also want to go to a BTS concert when they make a comeback. Can you imagine what a spectacle that will be?"
She reached for the bottle, but Do Hwan gently caught her hand.
"I think you've had enough for today."
"Yes, yes..." she agreed, swaying backwards. "But now I want to dance."
"Oh no, not that!" Do Hwan laughed, but it was already inevitable.
SoMi got up, turned up the volume and started dancing. Her hips moved like those of the main character in a music video. Her eyes were like those of someone who had been crying but was now laughing. She pulled him up, too. And so they danced. They danced for a long time, as if in a movie where the camera flies around the characters and the city lights flash in the window. Even the neighbours came over several times to complain. But SoMi didn't care anymore. She finally felt alive.
Song after song. Dance after dance. Laughter through tears. Joy through exhaustion.
Eventually, she collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep instantly. Like a child after a long holiday. Do Hwan cleared away the bottles and cleaned the table. Then he lay down on the floor next to her, but he couldn't fall asleep for a long time.
Staring at the ceiling, he pieced together the puzzle in his head: that's why she's like that. That's why she listens to music, dances, laughs and cries. She had lived without herself for ten years. She dedicated herself to marriage, everyday life, soup on the stove and the fear of being "not like that". She didn't have her youth — only responsibilities. Now, in her thirties, she had finally become herself.
SoMi was thunder and lightning that had been sleeping in the clouds for too long.
Do Hwan understood that he had appeared in her life for a reason. Maybe not for great love. But definitely to help her pick up the pieces. To be the one who says, "Let's go to a BTS concert." The person with whom she could race through the city in a fast car. The one who would make coffee on Sundays.
He will be a friend who silently listens to her drunken dreams and makes them come true, one by one.