Hidden Threads
Hana was organizing the children's section in the bookstore when her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She wiped her fingers on a cloth and checked it was from Minji. A message.
< "Did you get home safely last night?"
She smiled faintly. The day before, they had met again at the back of the café. A little girl had been crying over a fallen ice cream, and Hana had crouched down beside her, gently wiping her cheeks and comforting her . Minji had been watching quietly, hood up, mask on, but his eyes had softened in a way that made her feel like he was dropping his own disguise.
That was when he asked for her contact. Politely. Almost hesitantly.
Back in the present, she replied:
> "Yes, I did. You?"
He responded instantly.
> "I did too. Seeing you with that girl… You remind me what real kindness looks like."
Hana paused, warmth blooming in her chest. But it also made her worry. This couldn't go far. She wasn't someone who belonged in headlines.
The bookstore had quieted down. Only the soft rustle of pages and the ticking wall clock accompanied her now.
Another message from Minji lit up the screen.
> "Sometimes I wish I had your kind of life, Hana. Just a normal day, a small bookstore, the freedom to walk down the street without hiding."
She stared at his words, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.
> "But your life is beautiful too, isn't it? You bring joy to millions."
> "Sometimes. But mostly… I feel like I belong to them, not to myself."
That made her heart ache a little. She typed slowly:
> "I don't think people really see you, Minji. I mean you. Not the idol."
There was a pause before he replied.
> "You do."
The words hung on her screen like a breath held between two people.
Then:
> "Can I see you again soon?"
Hana looked around the dim bookstore, the warm yellow lamps, the worn spines of children's books she knew by heart. Could she let him into her world, knowing the chaos that surrounded his?
She typed,
> "Okay. When?"
> "Tomorrow. If you're free. I'll wear two masks if I have to."
She laughed aloud. Her heart beat faster.
> "No masks. Just coffee. And stories."
Minji sat in the backseat of a black van with tinted windows, his cap pulled low and his mask snug. Outside, Seoul shimmered in neon and camera flashes. The manager beside him scrolled through his phone, probably tracking hashtags and fan activity again.
> #MinjiOutAgain
#MinjiDatingRumors
#MinjiCafeSpotting
It never ended. There was no such thing as "personal" in his life anymore.
His fingers clenched the phone tighter. Hana had said yes. She'd agreed to meet again.
And it terrified him.
He scrolled back through their chat, reading her words again. There was no pretense in them. No idol-worship. No fake politeness. Just a quiet warmth that wrapped around him like a forgotten memory of childhood.
He needed to see her. But he also needed to be careful.
"I'll need an hour tomorrow," he told his manager suddenly. "Early evening."
The manager frowned. "You've got practice. And an online fan sign after."
"Push the fan sign. Or make it shorter. I'll be back."
The manager narrowed his eyes. "Are you seeing her again?"
Minji didn't answer.
"You can't keep doing this," the manager hissed under his breath. "You know what'll happen if fans find out. It'll destroy her."
Minji looked out the window. His reflection stared back haunted, tired and longing.
"I know," he said quietly. "But I'm going anyway."
The van slowed near the dorm, but Minji didn't move. The city's noise blurred into a distant hum as he stared out, trapped in the reflection of his double life.
His manager's voice cut in, lower now. "Minji… you care about her, don't you?"
A beat. Then a soft answer.
"I think I do."
The van door slid open. The flash of a camera went off somewhere down the street. The manager cursed under his breath.
Minji pulled his hoodie tighter, stepped out, and vanished into the building.
Somewhere in the quiet parts of Seoul, a girl with ink-stained fingers and a gentle soul waited without knowing how much her world was about to change.