Chapter Text
Los Angeles Airport
The hum of the baggage carousel was a dull counterpoint to the anxious rhythm in Megan’s chest. She adjusted her headphones, the first chords of Wave to Earth’s “Homesick” slicing through the airport noise. Her finger jabbed the ‘skip’ button almost before the melody could fully form. Yoonchae’s favorite. Just being back in LA for the first time since graduation was enough to set her nerves on edge; she didn’t need a soundtrack to amplify the ache. Eight months. It had been eight months since the younger girl had shattered her heart, and yet, in the quiet, honest corners of herself she rarely visited, Megan knew the feeling hadn't died. It had just gone dormant, flaring up at unexpected moments, like now. The reasons for their ending remained a tangled knot she couldn’t unravel, the memory of that day preserved in painful, crystal clarity…
The air in the cafe was thick with the scent of roasted beans and impending dread. Megan sat at the small table by the window, two iced americanos sweating between her hands—one for her, one for Yoonchae. Her leg bounced a frantic, silent tattoo against the chair leg. She’d rehearsed a dozen openings, a hundred questions. Why have you been so distant? What did I do? How do we fix this?
She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she almost missed her. Yoonchae’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, and Megan’s heart gave a treacherous, hopeful leap. It stuttered and died as Yoonchae approached. Her expression was a closed door, giving nothing away.
“Hey,” Megan breathed, starting to rise for a hug, an attempt at normalcy.
Yoonchae sidestepped the gesture and slid into the opposite chair, her posture rigid. The action was a physical blow. A cold, heavy ball of steel settled in Megan’s throat, making it hard to breathe.
“Yoonchae… is everything okay?” Megan’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Megan…” Yoonchae took a sharp breath, her gaze fixed on the table. “I need to be direct. I want to break up.”
The world didn’t just go quiet; it vacuum-sealed itself into silence. Megan could see Yoonchae’s lips moving, could hear the words as distant, muffled things, but their meaning refused to land. Three years. They’d had three years. There had been bumps—Megan’s insecurities, her occasional jealousy—but nothing catastrophic. Just weeks ago, they’d been laughing with their friends, tangled together on a couch, planning a summer trip. How had the foundation crumbled without a single warning tremor?
“Megan? Are you even listening to me?”
The distant voice pulled her from the numb spiral. “Yoonchae, why?” The question tore itself from her, tears burning behind her eyes. She reached across the table, grasping for Yoonchae’s hands. “Did I do something wrong? We can fix it, we can talk—”
“Megan, please.” Yoonchae wrenched her hands away, bowing her head.
“I don’t understand,” Megan said, swiping angrily at a tear that escaped. “Aren’t you happy with me? Are you not happy?”
The answer, when it came, was quiet, final, and eye contact. “No, Megan. I’m not happy anymore. So please… just let me go.”
A jostle from a fellow traveler snapped Megan back to the present. The carousel had delivered her suitcase. She grabbed the handle, the polished plastic cool under her palm.
This is going to be a hellish holiday season, she thought with grim resignation. Her only goal: avoid Yoonchae at all costs. Los Angeles was a massive city, teeming with millions of people. The odds of running into one specific person were astronomically low.
Right?