It was September 13th—Chuseok, Korea's version of Thanksgiving. A national holiday meant for family gatherings, full tables, and warm homes.
It was also my birthday.
Our boss gave us time off to enjoy the holiday with our families. Most of my coworkers were ecstatic, planning road trips or dinners with relatives they hadn't seen in months. I… didn't have anyone to celebrate with. No plans. No home-cooked meals. Just me.
Honestly, I would've rather worked. It was better than spending a whole day in silence.
I opened my laptop, hoping one of my tutoring students might want to squeeze in a last-minute session. But one by one, I saw their polite cancellations—each out of town, each surrounded by family.
Of course, I thought. They have people to be with. It's fine.
After a long shower, I got dressed and decided to just drive. Seoul's streets were quieter than usual, giving me room to breathe. I hadn't taken a slow drive in a long time. No destination. Just movement.
My first stop was a small flower shop tucked in a quiet alley. I picked up a bouquet of white dahlias—my mom's favorite.
I drove to the cemetery and sat beside her for a while, placing the flowers gently before her name. I told her everything: how empty the day felt, how strange it was turning a year older with no one to greet me, how I felt forgotten.
Right then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was Yoongi.
"Happy Chuseok, Rhea," he said the moment I answered. "We're celebrating at the dorms. Are you busy today? Wanna come?"
I glanced at the bouquet by my mom's headstone and chuckled under my breath. Of course. As if she'd heard me and sent him to intervene.
"Not really," I said. "Just taking a drive around the city."
"I'd come join you, but I'm stuck here for now. Still, you'll drop by later, right? Should I come get you?"
"No need. Just text me when it's okay to head over."
"Got it. See you soon, shorty."
I rolled my eyes. "See you."
After that, I stopped by a bingsu café and spent the afternoon watching the sun drift through the windows, letting time pass without expectations. The ache didn't fully disappear, but it dulled.
Later, around seven, Yoongi messaged me that I could come anytime. So I headed to the dorms, parked my bike on the corner, and sent him a quick text to say I'd arrived.
I looked up, expecting Yoongi to meet me. But it was Jimin who stepped out instead.
"Noona," he called softly. "I was just heading to the convenience store to grab more drinks. Want to come with me?"
He looked hesitant—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes flicking away.
"Sure," I said. "Do you want to ride my bike or are we walking?"
"It's just a short walk. We can go on foot."
I nodded, and we started walking side by side. The silence between us stretched longer than usual. I glanced at him—his steps were slow, and his usual brightness seemed dimmed.
"You okay, Jimin?" I finally asked.
He blinked, almost surprised. "Was it that obvious?"
"A little," I replied, slowing my pace to match his. "Are you sick? Or… is something bothering you?"
"You're the first person to ask that today," he murmured. "How'd you know?"
"Because you're usually expressive. You don't hide it well when something's wrong. Were you pretending around the others?"
He gave a half-hearted laugh. "You caught me. It's Lila... I don't know what to do anymore. She said she wanted to spend Chuseok with me, just the two of us. But she spent the whole day glued to her phone, texting her friends. I asked her to come on this quick store run with me, and she couldn't be bothered."
I stayed quiet, letting him talk.
"She says I'm always busy, that I don't make enough time—but the second I do, she wants to party or go clubbing. I'm fine with that stuff, but… I just wanted something simple today. Quality time. That's all." He paused. "Like what you and Yoongi-hyung have."
I nearly choked on my breath. "Wow, okay… first of all, buckle up. Second, I don't filter what I say, and I mean this with all due respect—but your girlfriend sucks."
He looked at me, startled, then curious.
"I saw it that night," I continued. "Her friend was being awful to Jungkook just because he looked my way—like looked—and they were pushing drinks on him even when he clearly didn't want any. And your girlfriend? She just sat there. Didn't say a thing."
Jimin stayed quiet, eyes fixed ahead.
"I lost it when I overheard them saying they wanted to get Yoongi drunk just to get him in bed. I told one of them to go fuck herself, and it turned into a full-blown meltdown. I'm sure Lila told you something about it—but yeah. I said what I said."
I held my hands up in surrender. "If you're mad at me now for talking shit about your girlfriend, I get it."
Jimin didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched as he looked off into the night sky, breathing through his nose.
But then he exhaled, long and heavy.
"I'm not mad," he finally said. "I'm just... sad that you were right before I even admitted it to myself."
He glanced at me, expression tight. "Thanks for not sugarcoating it. I think I needed someone to call it out loud."
"I'm sorry, Jimin," I said quietly. "You deserve more than being a prop for someone's social life. You deserve to be seen."
He laughed softly, "No, you're right. I remembered when she said she wanted you to leave because you started a fight with her friend. But the first time I really saw you was at the dorms. You broke a plate… and flinched—not because of the plate, but like… instinctively. You raised your hand like you expected something worse."
I gave a small, bitter smile. "You caught that, huh?"
"All of us saw it," he said gently. "No one brought it up, but I think that's when he started protecting you—maybe even unconsciously. I especially noticed it when Lila started throwing shade your way. Can I ask… are you okay?"
I nodded, offering a grateful smile. "I'm okay. Thank you for asking. What my ex did… left scars. Deep ones. Ones that don't fade just because time passes. Call me foolish, but I clung to the man I thought was my reality. In the end, the love I felt became fear. And when walking away started to feel lighter than walking toward him—I knew I made the right choice."
Jimin turned to look at me then, eyes laced with quiet intensity. I knew that look. I already sensed what he was thinking… or about to do.
"She's at the dorm?" I asked cautiously.
He nodded, jaw tightening. "Yeah. I've been meaning to break things off with her, but lately... it's like I don't even know who she is anymore. Just bear with her for tonight. It'll be the last. I promise." His voice lowered, like the words cost him something. "Please, Rhea."
I broke eye contact, knocking my knuckle against his forehead gently. "My heart is weak for cute things," I muttered, clicking my tongue. "You're going to be the death of me, Park Jimin."
He laughed and moved to grab more wine bottles from the shelf.
"You know," I said, watching him, "you give off this 'let me show you pretty lights and whisper soft stories' kind of vibe. You're a romantic, Jimin. You deserve someone who matches that energy. Someone who can keep up with your silly moments and drunken poetry. Walk toward that light."
I almost added and I don't see Lila in that frame with you, but I stopped myself. He was already carrying enough.
Jimin smiled, and I felt like some weight had lifted off his shoulders.
His smile was small, but genuine. "So do you, noona. Happy birthday, by the way."
That startled me.
"You knew?"
"Of course. Yoongi told us this morning. He even made the rice cakes look like dahlias. Said they were your mom's favorite."
My throat tightened.
We reached the store and walked inside, side by side—two people who had just pulled back the curtain on quiet grief, both a little lighter for it.
"So how did you and Yoongi-hyung meet?" he asked.
"Oh," I chuckled, "I was working at this café. My boss is Jin's aunt, and both he and Suga used to drop by. That's where we hit it off."
Jimin scoffed. "It doesn't look like just friendship."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what does it look like?"
"Yoongi-hyung is an introvert," he said seriously. "He loves sleep more than food. I've seen him talk to people, even girls—but never the way he is around you. He's… different with you."
I smiled softly. "Maybe we just click. We have a lot in common. I visited his studio once. It was so calm, like time slowed down. I ended up getting more work done than I expected."
Jimin gasped. "You've been to his studio?"
I nodded. "Yeah. He let me watch him work. He even asked for my opinion. It was... refreshing. We stayed until sunrise and had breakfast afterward."
As I unloaded bottles at the counter, Jimin eyed me with a teasing grin.
"We haven't talked about being official, if that's what you're thinking," I clarified, taking out my card and paying for everything.
"Hey! Let me pay."
"It's fine. Just promise me you won't let me drink another bottle of tequila tonight."
That led us into a never-ending stream of jokes and banter about him and Yoongi's famous bickering. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed so hard. By the time we were nearing their dorm, we were competing to see who could down a soju bottle faster.
Naturally, I won.
As punishment, Jimin banned me from drinking any more tequila for the night.
"Wanna bet Lila says something unnecessary about me again?" I challenged.
"No way. I'll be there—she won't dare."
"100,000 won says she does."
"And if you lose?" he grinned.
"I'll convince Yoongi to stop nagging you for a month."
He laughed, "Deal."
When we arrived at the dorm, it was warm and chaotic. Someone was singing, others were huddled over snacks and drinks. I scanned the room—and found Yoongi at the far end, cooking quietly.
But... where was Lila?
Jin was distracted, wrestling with Jungkook and Taehyung on the couch. I hadn't formally met Taehyung yet, but—wow. He really was the visual.
"Rhea," Yoongi called, walking toward me. He gently took everything I was holding and set it aside on the counter.
"Ya! I'm carrying drinks too and he doesn't help me!" Jimin complained.
Yoongi looked like he was about to snap back when I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen.
I threw a smirk over my shoulder at Jimin.
He pointed at me accusingly. I stuck out my tongue before turning back to Yoongi—realizing I had held his hand a bit longer than necessary. I quickly let go.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "What are you cooking?"
"Can you check the fridge? There's a small box in there. Bring it to me."
I did as asked, curious. It was a plain white box, unmarked. I handed it to him.
"Open it," he said.
I set it down, lifted the lid—and froze.
Inside was a small cake, simply decorated, with the words Happy Birthday Shorty piped in soft icing.
"Be honest. How did you know?" I whispered, overwhelmed. I hadn't told a single soul.
He looked at me and smiled. "Happy birthday, Rhea."
He stuck a candle in the center and lit it. I stared, wide-eyed, as tears fell, Yoongi blew the candle in panic. As if I was hurt by the light.
He laughed nervously when he saw me cry. "I… blew it out for you. You couldn't stop crying."
I nodded, wiping tears with the tissue he offered. "It's just… I haven't blown out a birthday candle in five years. This means a lot. I told my mom this morning I wished someone would give me a cake this year."
Yoongi scratched the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Well… now you have one."
I took a deep breath, looked up at him, and smiled through my tears. "Thank you. For remembering. For celebrating with me."
For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like just a birthday. It felt like someone saw me.