Chapter Text
Jihyo is a visual artist who described herself as an introspective person who seeks hidden beauty in people. She has her own studio near the city, where she teaches her apprentices.
The days were becoming more and more the same. Coffee, sketches, paint, and nothing. Jihyo spent hours in front of her canvases, but the color did not speak to her. Passion slipped through her fingers like water. What once was impulse had now become routine.
She felt a little empty. She wanted something that would call to her, that would draw her in deeply. She needed divine inspiration—something, someone.
Jihyo looked at her canvas and sighed, overwhelmed by feeling this way. Without another thought, she let her hand fall and set her brush aside. She looked at the colors again, thinking, dreaming, longing.
The bell of her studio rang along with the familiar creak of the door. She lifted her gaze attentively and found herself looking into the eyes of her younger sister, who was smiling warmly.
“Are you going?” she asked, walking toward where Jihyo was sitting. “Nayeon Unnie and Jeongyeon Unnie are free and want to eat something with us,” she said, reminding her of the invitation the couple had made.
Jihyo thought briefly about her friends and then spoke.
“I don’t know, Tzu… I want to keep painting…” she said, though she wasn’t really convinced herself, because she no longer felt inspired.
Tzuyu leaned in a little closer and looked at the canvas in front of her sister. “What are you supposed to be painting?” she asked curiously, without taking her eyes off it.
Tzuyu didn’t have the gift. That’s what Jihyo usually said. She didn’t understand any of this—she didn’t understand the magic of capturing feelings through color.
Jihyo looked at her own work. “It’s the horizon… the sun rising in the distance,” she murmured, pointing at the canvas.
Tzuyu studied it carefully and understood moments later: vivid warm colors—orange, red, yellow—blending into softer tones of pink, blue, and purple, revealing exactly what her sister had described.
“However,” Jihyo continued softly, “I didn’t like the result. It’s missing more details.” She stood up from the wooden bench, and her sister quickly stepped back to give her space to move freely.
“The truth is, it’s beautiful. I love it,” Tzuyu blurted out, trying to make her feel better—and she wasn’t lying at all. Jihyo had always been very talented and often overly critical of herself.
“You didn’t even understand it,” Jihyo laughed bitterly.
“Well, that’s not my fault. I couldn’t see it well from here. But it’s beautiful—give it to me, I’ll put it in my room,” she defended herself, smiling sweetly as she asked.
Jihyo looked at her with affection. Her sister always did her best to support her, even if she didn’t fully understand the complexity of art. “Take it, then, Tzu,” she said, smiling.
Tzuyu carefully took it, placed it in her school folder, and then into her bag. “So… will you come?” she asked, watching as her sister removed the paint-stained apron.
“Alright, let’s go. Maybe I’ll find something that inspires me outside,” Jihyo said, hopeful that she might.
Tzuyu smiled at her answer. Without another word, the two of them left hand in hand.
⭑⭑⭑
Jihyo and Tzuyu were just about to reach the café; they only had to cross the street two more times. They stopped suddenly to wait—there were many cars—but this time they passed the wait laughing. Tzuyu was telling Jihyo about a small accident that had happened days earlier at their parents’ house.
Jihyo no longer lived with their parents, but she visited them often. She and Tzuyu were still very close despite not living together.
Jihyo missed that, but she loved her quiet, solitary life. She loved when her sister visited her at the studio or her apartment, and she loved listening to her even more.
They couldn’t stop laughing now, trying to look into the distance. They could already see the café.
When they finally crossed the street, the wind felt cool against their faces. They kept laughing and talking. From time to time, Jihyo looked around, searching for the inspiration of her dreams. A few more steps, and they finally arrived.
As they walked inside, they were enveloped by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of other conversations. The place was spacious, with large windows letting in the afternoon light.
“There they are!” Tzuyu exclaimed, pointing toward a table at the back where Nayeon and Jeongyeon were already waiting.
The two women smiled when they saw them approaching.
Nayeon and Jeongyeon were engaged—they were getting married soon. Both were friends of Jihyo from university, and once Tzuyu met them, she never let them go. They became her best friends too. Her partners in mischief. Despite the age difference, Tzuyu loved them, and they loved her.
They often went out to eat together or helped her with homework when they were free or in town. Both were lawyers and had their own law firm together, so their days were hectic. They didn’t always have a free day like today.
Jeongyeon waved, and Nayeon was already standing up to hug them. “I thought you’d be late!” Nayeon joked as she hugged Jihyo tightly.
“Our artist didn’t have much energy today,” Tzuyu said with a giggle, glancing at her older sister.
After the brief greeting, they sat down to enjoy the moment.
“That sounds depressing,” Jeongyeon teased shortly after, laughing as she took a sip of her coffee.
“I feel like I’ve lost my inspiration, girls,” Jihyo replied dramatically.
From there, the conversation flowed naturally.
They talked about their weeks, Jihyo’s lost inspiration, the complicated court case Nayeon and Jeongyeon were handling, a professor who wouldn’t leave Tzuyu alone, and a guy who was flirting with her through messages—though she insisted he was just “nice.”
“Nice doesn’t send you a gym selfie,” Nayeon said, raising an eyebrow.
“Thank you! Someone gets it!” Jihyo exclaimed seriously.
“Someone’s jealous,” Jeongyeon commented, looking at Jihyo.
“She’s my little sister. I’m just worried about her!” Jihyo protested, glancing at Tzuyu, who tried to hide behind Jeongyeon.
“But he’s just nice, enough already,” Tzuyu said again, covering her flushed face.
But then, something changed.
In the middle of the laughter and teasing, Jihyo stopped talking. Her smile froze for a moment. She slightly turned her head, as if something—or someone—had suddenly pulled her attention.
Her gaze suddenly fixed on someone in the distance. A person who caught her off guard and made her lose balance. Her heart sped up without understanding why.
There, near the counter, a girl was struggling against the chaos she herself had created. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she wore a poorly folded white coat over a casual outfit. With a trembling cup of coffee in one hand and her phone pressed to her ear, she looked like she had run straight out of a night shift.
Suddenly, as she turned, she tripped over her own bag and spilled part of her coffee onto a table. The girl froze for a second, as if deciding whether to scream or cry. Unable to do either, she just sighed, wiped it up with a napkin, then returned to the counter with determined steps. She ordered another coffee and pretended she was fine, as if nothing had happened.
Jihyo simply watched her in silence, unmoving in her seat.
“Everything okay?” Jeongyeon asked, noticing the change in her expression.
Jihyo didn’t answer. She just blinked suddenly. The student she had been watching was already leaving, rushing out with her new coffee in hand—hurried, still carrying that absent-minded air. Jihyo blinked faster, completely stunned. How was it possible that no one else had stopped to witness that small, beautiful chaos?
Everything had happened so fast, yet for her, everything had felt slow.
“Yes… yes, everything’s fine,” she finally replied, somewhat dazed.
Inside Jihyo, something had been stirred. It wasn’t just that the girl seemed amusing. There was something else. Something in her eyes, or in the way she ran off without looking back. It hit her hard.
⭑⭑⭑
Jihyo couldn’t get it out of her head—that beautiful, amusing chaos. Today was another day. Tzuyu wasn’t there, and she wouldn’t be coming to the studio.
Jihyo’s heart was beating as if she were excited. She sighed; she couldn’t stop thinking. She needed to see her again, at least once more. After thinking about it longer, Jihyo stood up. Her canvas in front of her was still blank—she had been there, thinking about what had happened that day.
Two days had passed. What was wrong with her? Maybe she wouldn’t even see her again. Still, she grabbed her keys and left. This time, she took her car and drove to the same café.
When she arrived and stepped out of the car, Jihyo felt small raindrops fall on her, lightly wetting her hair and clothes.
“Great,” she whispered to the wind as she hurried toward the café. It wasn’t sarcasm—she loved rainy days and coffee.
She entered, feeling the warmth and coziness of the place, especially with the cold outside. It felt like a perfect plan. She looked around carefully, searching for that beautiful walking chaos. But there weren’t many people inside.
Jihyo sighed, slightly annoyed, and without further thought walked up to the counter to order a coffee and maybe a dessert. When she received them, she found a table and sat down. She looked around as she took a sip of her coffee, then gazed at the light rain falling outside through the large windows.
Without realizing it, someone sat down beside her.
Jihyo didn’t move or notice at first, but the little person didn’t make much noise either. She stayed silent, seemingly embarrassed to sit at a stranger’s table without being invited, trying to hide.
After a few minutes, Jihyo finally snapped out of her daydream and looked at the small guest at her table—only to jump in her seat.
“My God! Who are you?” Jihyo exclaimed, eyes wide as she saw a child sitting in front of her.
“Sorry…” she shrugged. “I just sat here,” the girl replied, embarrassed.
“I see,” Jihyo said, letting out a nervous laugh. “But why?” She glanced around briefly—there were plenty of empty tables.
“I’m hiding, actually. I promise I won’t make any noise. I’m just going to read my book,” she lifted it to show her, “and put my head in here,” she added, opening it and preparing to disappear into it.
Jihyo frowned and looked around again, unsure where the little girl had come from.
“May I ask who you’re hiding from?” Jihyo asked, curious.
“From my older sister. I don’t want to bother her. She’s busy and brought me with her, but I left her alone… I think she needs it. I just want to stay here for a while. If I bother you, I can go to another table…”
Jihyo immediately shook her head, understanding, then spoke again. “Can I ask you two questions?”
The girl nodded cautiously.
“What’s your name? And how old are you?”
“Chaeyoung… I’m eleven,” she replied with a nervous smile.
“And you came here alone, Chaeyoung?” Jihyo asked, slightly worried. The girl shook her head, though it wasn’t exactly true. Jihyo was about to say more, but Chaeyoung cut in.
“I just want to be quiet and not bother anyone. You seemed like a good option. If you keep talking or asking me things, I’ll leave.”
The speed and bluntness of her answer surprised Jihyo. Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
“Alright, Chaeyoung. Stay. I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Then do it,” the girl said without lifting her eyes from the book.
“I’m Park Jihyo… I love painting and reading. By the way, I like your book—it’s very good,” she said with a kind smile.
Chaeyoung smiled, pleased. Though she wanted to ask more about painting, she decided to stay silent, just as promised, and buried her face in her book.
Jihyo watched her quietly, still amazed by what had just happened.
Until she saw her through the window.
It was the medical student from the other day. Her silhouette crossed the street under the rain—white coat, bag over her shoulder, earphones hanging. There was no reason to focus on her. And yet, she couldn’t help it.
The girl burst into the café, drawing the attention of the few people inside.
Jihyo lifted her gaze, captivated by the scene. Her soaked face, her hair dripping water… She was a beautiful mess. Chaotic, but captivating.
She went straight to the counter, ordered five coffees and some cookies without looking at anyone. She didn’t seem interested in her surroundings—she was just there to do what she had to do. That indifference, that unexplained urgency, only heightened the magnetism Jihyo felt toward her.
She was so absorbed in watching her that she barely reacted when her small table companion whispered something.
“Did you say something, Chaeyoung?” Jihyo asked, without completely taking her eyes off the student.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything,” the girl replied, hiding even more behind her book.
Jihyo smiled and looked back just in time to see the stranger trip over her own feet again—just like the other time.
Then she left, just as she had before. Just as fast. Just as inexplicably.
Jihyo remained still, her heart pounding. She had waited so long to see her again, and even if it was only for a moment, it was worth it. She didn’t understand why, but that girl awakened something in her. There was a story behind her rush, behind that gaze that avoided contact.
Jihyo wanted to understand her. She wanted to paint her. She wanted to capture what she couldn’t understand—capture what her presence made her feel. Beyond the chaos, beyond the fleeting moments… she wanted to know her.
“Who are you?” Jihyo whispered softly, her gaze lost in the window as she watched the girl disappear into the rain.
“Do you mean my sister?” Chaeyoung suddenly asked, lifting her head from her book.
“What?” Jihyo exclaimed, turning to her in surprise.
“That girl is my sister,” Chaeyoung replied casually, setting the book aside.
“Your sister?” Jihyo murmured, unable to believe it.
Chaeyoung nodded with a small smile, but her expression changed immediately. “Why were you staring at her so much?” she suddenly asked, looking straight into Jihyo’s eyes.
Jihyo felt her face heat up, completely caught off guard.
“I… uh… I don’t know… curiosity,” she stammered, lowering her gaze for a moment.
The girl laughed softly, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“She’s pretty, right? But she’s always in a hurry,” she said, her smile fading slightly.
Jihyo nodded, still intrigued. “Why?”
“She’s a medical student. Last year,” Chaeyoung explained with a sigh. “Didn’t you notice? She’s chaos,” she added matter-of-factly.
Jihyo laughed at her silly question and the girl’s answer.
“Yes, that’s my sister,” Chaeyoung continued, suddenly standing up. “I think I have to go.”
Jihyo looked at her, confused.
“Wait, it’s raining. Where are you going?”
“To the hospital a few blocks from here. My sister is doing shifts there. I was supposed to wait for her in the lounge with her colleagues, but some were busier than her and others were sleeping while they could… and then something fell suddenly, everyone looked at me like it was my fault, but it wasn’t. She yelled at me for it,” she added, her eyes glassy.
Jihyo felt a pang in her chest.
“I’m sorry… I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. Come on, I’ll take you. Do you trust me to walk you there?” she asked gently.
The girl nodded with a faint smile.
“Okay,” Jihyo stood as well. “Maybe we’ll run into your sister on the way,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.
“No, she won’t scold me again. Let’s just go straight there and pretend nothing happened. Please…”
Jihyo hesitated for a second, then nodded.
“Alright… but could you tell me your sister’s name?”
“Sana,” she replied softly.
Jihyo repeated the name in her mind as they headed for the door. Sana… Now she had a name for that beautiful chaos.
⭒⭒⭒
Rain tapped against the car windows as Jihyo drove carefully. Beside her, Chaeyoung sat quietly, hugging her book tightly. From time to time, she glanced out the window, as if expecting her sister to appear out of nowhere.
“Are you okay?” Jihyo asked softly.
The girl nodded, unconvinced, without turning fully toward her.
“Yes. Thanks for driving me, I guess… but next time don’t offer if you don’t really know the way.”
Jihyo glanced at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, I got a bit lost, but we’re almost there.”
“Yes, a few minutes later, maybe my sister has already noticed I’m gone,” she complained, making Jihyo feel bad.
A couple of minutes later, they arrived in front of the hospital. Jihyo parked near the staff entrance and turned off the engine.
“Do you want me to walk you inside?”
Chaeyoung shook her head but didn’t move to get out. She looked toward the illuminated doors, hesitant.
“What if… she’s really mad?”
Jihyo smiled warmly.
“Then tell her you stayed with me. You can blame me—I don’t mind.”
The girl let out a shy laugh, the first genuine one since they’d left.
“You’re really weird.”
“I know,” Jihyo laughed. “But I saved you from the storm, so maybe that earns me some points.”
“But you got lost…” she said, overwhelmed.
“I’m sorry again… but come on, I’ll walk you. I think that’s best.” She grabbed an umbrella she miraculously had in the car and hurried out.
They stepped out together. Jihyo made sure the girl stayed completely dry.
At that moment, the hospital doors opened and a familiar figure stepped out, pulling up the hood of her white coat. She walked fast, clearly worried.
It was Sana. Chaeyoung saw her and shrank.
“That’s her,” she murmured.
Sana quickly approached them, frowning.
“Chaeyoung? Where were you? I told you—” Then she stopped. “Who are you?” she asked, now looking at Jihyo.
Sana blinked, angry and confused. Jihyo looked at her, barely breathing. So close. So real.
“Hello, I’m Park Jihyo. It was raining. Your sister showed up alone at the café. I thought I could bring her,” she explained briefly.
Sana studied her for a few seconds, then sighed—frustrated, but not truly angry.
“Thank you… I’m sorry if she caused you trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble,” Jihyo said, glancing at Chaeyoung. “She’s a good girl. We spent a nice time together. She stayed with me the whole time.”
Sana tilted her head, intrigued by that answer. Something in her eyes softened. “Well… we’d better go inside. Chae, come on.”
The girl waved goodbye to Jihyo with a conspiratorial smile. Sana was about to remove her hood to give it to Chaeyoung so she wouldn’t get wet, but Jihyo stopped her.
“Don’t do that. I’ll walk you there so you don’t get wet,” she said gently, pointing to the umbrella.
Sana hesitated briefly, but time was short, so she sighed and stepped closer.
When they reached the glass doors, they parted. Chaeyoung went in first, disappearing into the hospital corridors, trying to escape her sister. Sana stayed behind and looked Jihyo in the eyes.
“Have we met before?” she asked, as if trying to remember.
Jihyo met her gaze. “Yes. Twice. Even though you never knew,” she said.
Sana frowned again, unsure whether to laugh or feel awkward. Before she could reply, Jihyo added:
“I’m an artist. Sometimes inspiration appears suddenly. And you… you appear very often.”
Sana was left speechless. She wanted to say something, but only nodded. One of her colleagues called her from inside.
“Thank you for everything, Jihyo. Thank you so much for taking care of my sister. I have to go now,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “Goodbye—and thank you again.”
She walked away with a smile.
Jihyo watched her disappear into the illuminated entrance, just like before. But this time… she had her name. Sana. And the certainty that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw her.
⭒
⭒
⭒
From that day on, Sana became a constant in Jihyo’s thoughts. Always in a hurry. Always reading. Always with that tired face and those eyes that seemed to look beyond the immediate.
Sana never spoke to her again after that brief interaction at the hospital. Jihyo, however, didn’t give up. She was there again, waiting for Sana to notice her. It wasn’t that Sana ignored her on purpose—she truly ignored everyone around her. Every time she entered the café, she did the same thing: placed her order, grabbed her coffees and cookies, and escaped. Sometimes she came in reading or studying something, barely lifting her eyes at all. And Jihyo never dared to interrupt her world, even though she was dying to do so.
Jihyo became a discreet presence in the café. Notebook in hand, she pretended to draw anything—but the truth was different. She was drawing her. She couldn’t help it. From the way Sana twisted her expression when concentrating to how she tied her hair without realizing it.
Until one day, Sana entered the café without running.
It was brief. Sana wasn’t in a hurry this time. It was her first day off. For the first time in a long while, her eyes slowly scanned the place and landed on a calm girl in the corner.
Something stirred in her memory. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen her. She knew it.
Her expression changed. She frowned slightly, then tilted her head, as if trying to focus on a memory.
“Wait…” she murmured to herself, holding her coffee. “That girl…” she walked over.
Without thinking much, Sana walked straight toward her. Jihyo, absorbed in a sketch while waiting to see her, didn’t notice Sana had arrived—nor that she was already walking toward her—until it was too late.
“It’s you,” Sana said, stopping in front of her table. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but it was direct.
Jihyo looked up, startled. She held her gaze for barely a second, then looked down at her notebook, trembling.
The tip of the pencil shook.
“Hi…” Her face burned. Her heart stopped. She truly hadn’t expected this.
“So it is you…” Sana said, a smile forming—still surprised. “You’re the one who took my sister to the hospital that day. I remember you. She told me everything… and now I recognize you.”
Jihyo didn’t speak. She only nodded slightly. Her throat felt suddenly dry.
“Thank you again, by the way,” Sana added softly. “I was really scared when I couldn’t find her. She said you were nice… though a little weird,” she laughed nervously.
Jihyo didn’t know what to say. She had waited so long for this moment, and now she didn’t know what to do. Silence filled the space. She cursed herself for it.
Sana blinked, slightly uncomfortable, and glanced at the notebook. Jihyo tried to close it discreetly, but she wasn’t fast enough.
“Is that… me?”
Jihyo swallowed.
The question was more discovery than accusation. Sana narrowed her eyes and studied the drawings. There she was—her face, her posture while holding her coffee and reading, the curve of her smile, even the unconscious gesture she made when tying her hair.
It wasn’t one drawing, but several.
Jihyo felt her heart pounding as Sana flipped through the pages.
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that. I just… couldn’t help it,” she said quietly, like a confession.
Sana didn’t answer right away. Her gaze moved over the sketches, one by one. There was something intimate about them, as if each line revealed something about herself she hadn’t even known.
“They’re not bad,” she finally said, a small smile forming. “Although that’s not my best angle,” she pointed to one, amused.
Jihyo laughed nervously, relieved she hadn’t walked away angry.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me… or come talk to me.”
“And miss the chance to meet the mysterious girl who secretly draws me?” Sana blurted out, crossing her arms, now clearly amused. “No. Besides… I think I want to know why you chose me.”
Jihyo looked up at her at last, without hiding.
“Because I didn’t know how to stop looking at you.”
Sana fell silent. Her smile didn’t fade, but something in her expression softened—and became more serious at the same time.
“Then,” she said finally, sitting down across from her, “tell me. From the beginning.”
And for the first time, Jihyo set down the pencil… and began to speak.