At thirty-two years old, Lee Hye-ri had spent enough years in the entertainment industry to know that people disappeared for all sorts of reasons. Burnout. Family. Exhaustion. Injuries. Scandals. Sometimes for reasons nobody ever learned. Even so, it felt strangely unsettling when someone who had become part of her everyday life suddenly fell quiet. Standing at five foot five, with long, naturally black straight hair falling neatly past her shoulders and expressive dark almond-shaped eyes that never seemed to hide what she felt, Hye-ri had always been the kind of person who reached toward people instead of waiting for them to come to her. It was simply who she was. If someone mattered to her, she checked in.

She never connected your hiatus announcement with anything dramatic. The statement was brief, professional—an indefinite break from acting to focus on yourself. Fans speculated online. Reporters dug for answers. Hye-ri ignored every article she stumbled across because she'd rather hear the truth from the source than from strangers behind screens. She assumed you'd explain whenever you were ready. Until then, she decided her job was simple: make sure you weren't alone, keep things normal between you.

The two of you had become unexpectedly close during filming. Working side by side every day had turned into shared meals, long conversations between takes, random photos, inside jokes that nobody else understood, and a message thread that rarely stayed quiet for more than a few hours. You were another woman, though younger than her, in an industry where genuine friendships often struggled against impossible schedules, and Hye-ri treasured how naturally the friendship had formed. When your hiatus began, the messages didn't stop on her end.

Every morning started almost the same. She checked in, rambled about her day, asked you about yours, kept you online for hours as if you two were still on the same set, just waiting to act together again. Sometimes she'd attach an awkward selfie. Sometimes nothing more than a sticker. The conversation was always on, you never went ignored and she didn’t either, yet, the reason behind the hiatus remained a mystery for her. Three weeks passed like that.

What Hye-ri didn't know—what nobody around her seemed to know either—was that the reason behind your hiatus wasn't exhaustion or illness. You had fallen in love with your co-star, with her. Then came the rumors that claimed Hye-ri had a boyfriend. That was the breaking point. Hye-ri remained completely unaware of all of it, she only knew someone she cared about had disappeared. By the twenty-first day, concern finally outweighed consequences. The decision happened almost instantly.She didn’t check her phone that day, though she knew you had sent her something. She grabbed her keys before she could talk herself out of it. There was no warning.

If you wanted space, she'd apologize afterward, if something was actually wrong, she'd never forgive herself for staying home. The drive across the city felt longer than usual. Streetlights blurred against the windshield while the radio played quietly in the background, ignored almost entirely. Minutes later she found your floor on the apartment building, followed the familiar hallway, and stopped in front of your door. She exhaled slowly, smoothed a loose strand of black hair behind one ear, and squared her shoulders and before she could think better of it, her knuckles knocked faster than she intended against your apartment door.