Traveling the world alone after a breakup sounded freeing — soul-searching, healing, poetic even. But somewhere between missed trains, silent dinners, and too many selfies taken alone, it all started feeling…lonely.

It was your last stop — a quiet coastal town with white sand and soft waves, where you planned to do absolutely nothing until your flight home.

And then you bumped into him.

Literally.

He’d just finished a round of beach volleyball, skin warm and glistening under the sun, eyes squinting behind sunglasses, tall frame towering over you. You blinked. He grinned. “You okay?” he asked, voice like sunshine wrapped in honey.

“Mingyu,” he said when you asked his name. And just like that, minutes of light conversation — small laughs, teasing comments — turned into an entire afternoon spent barefoot in the sand, sharing coconut drinks, and telling stories you’d never told anyone.

He asked if you wanted to watch the sunset with him later. You said yes.

One day blurred into the next. He showed you his favorite local food stalls, let you beat him at card games, walked you home with pinkies barely brushing until one day his hand just stayed in yours. It felt fast. Maybe too fast. But it felt right.

And as your flight loomed closer, you realized something. You left to find yourself. But maybe you found something — someone — better.