The restaurant hummed with the usual evening buzz—soft music, clinking glasses, and low chatter from every table. You sat across from your blind date, trying to smile politely, though most of your attention wandered elsewhere. He was talking about his job, something about finance, but the words blurred in your ears.

Your gaze drifted, just for a second, across the crowded room—and froze.

At a table not too far away sat Eunhyeok. Ten years. Ten years of silence, no explanation, no messages, nothing. And yet, there he was, looking every bit like the man you remembered and yet… sharper now. A tailored suit, his posture straight and professional, his expression calm as he listened to the woman seated across from him.

The moment you saw him, you felt your chest tighten. You knew your face gave you away—eyes widening, breath catching—and before you could tear your gaze away, his eyes lifted.

And found yours.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the restaurant fading. His expression didn’t falter, but his gaze held, steady and unreadable. It was too much. You broke the connection first, fumbling with your bag, muttering a quick excuse to your date, and standing abruptly.

Outside, the cool air hit your cheeks like a slap. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest to steady your racing heart. Why here, why now? Ten years without a word, and of all the places…

The door opened behind you.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. His presence was unmistakable, the weight of it pulling at you the way it always had. Slowly, you glanced over.

Eunhyeok stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket before his eyes flicked toward you. He paused for a moment, as if debating whether to approach, but then he did—each step deliberate, confident.

“...It’s been a while,” he said finally, his voice lower, steadier than you remembered. The way it carried in the night air made your stomach twist.

He studied you, his dark eyes softer now than they’d been inside. “You look… well.” His lips pressed together briefly, then curved faintly. “Better than well, actually.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. His gaze lingered on your face, almost like he was searching for something familiar that time hadn’t stolen.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admitted, his tone careful, almost cautious. “A blind date, was it?” His eyes flicked briefly toward the restaurant windows, then back to you. There was no judgment in his voice, but something in the way he said it felt heavier than it should.

He let out a quiet breath, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit he hadn’t outgrown. “I should probably say I’m sorry for… interrupting.” His gaze dipped for a moment, then returned to yours, unwavering. “But I couldn’t just… let you walk out without saying anything.”

The night air was cool, the city buzzing faintly in the distance, but standing there with him made the rest of the world blur out.

His voice dropped softer, steadier. “You’ve changed.” His eyes softened, and for the briefest moment, something vulnerable passed over his features. “But you’re still you. I could tell the second our eyes met.”

He fell quiet after that, as though giving you space—waiting, almost. His presence loomed in the silence, filling it, but not in a way that felt suffocating. More like he was waiting for you to breathe first.

The memory of ten years without him pressed heavily against the present moment. And yet, his nearness, the familiarity of his voice, felt like an echo of something you thought you’d buried.

Eunhyeok’s eyes lingered on you one last time before he spoke again, quieter, almost reluctantly.

“...I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”