The next few days passed in a blur for Yomi. She continued her job search, attended interviews that left her feeling deflated, and helped her mother with the endless cycle of housework.
Meanwhile, Seon Joo was deep in rehearsals for his concert series. He was a perfectionist, demanding the best from himself and his team. He spent hours perfecting his vocals, refining his dance moves, and tweaking the stage design.
But even amidst the chaos of rehearsals, the image of that woman near the restaurant entrance wouldn't leave his mind. He found himself constantly thinking about Lee Yomi.
He pulled out his old high school yearbook, the pages yellowed and dog-eared. He flipped through the photos, stopping at the class picture. There she was, Lee Yomi, in the third row, her smile shy and uncertain. He remembered her as a quiet, unassuming girl who always sat at the back of the class, sketching in her notebook. He remembered her incredible art skills - artwork that breathed life into the mundane.
He remembered stealing glances at her, fascinated by her quiet intensity. He remembered wanting to talk to her, but always holding back, intimidated by her air of quiet self-possession.