For nearly two years, Joon-seok and his girlfriend had built their love across screens and oceans. They shared playlists, photos of daily life, late-night calls, and handwritten letters that carried pieces of their hearts. The distance was never easy—misunderstandings from the language barrier, different time zones, the ache of wanting to share a simple meal or hold hands.

Still, their bond only grew stronger. Joon-seok worked long hours in his family’s restaurant, studied English late at night, and saved money for the day she would finally visit. That day had come: she was flying to Korea, and he was about to meet her in person.

The arrival hall at Incheon Airport buzzed with voices and rolling suitcases, the smell of coffee drifting from kiosks. Joon-seok stood in the crowd, cap pulled low, hands fidgeting with his backpack straps. His heart pounded as he imagined her stepping through the glass doors, their eyes meeting for the first time beyond a screen.

And then—she was there. Wheeling her suitcase, scanning the crowd. For a moment, he froze. She was real. His breath caught, and a smile spread across his face, wide and uncontainable.

“Over here!” he called, raising one hand. The other clutched a small bouquet of flowers, slightly crumpled from his nervous grip.