After Five Years, I Finally Found, My Sun!

I searched everywhere for the angel who appeared before me on June 30th, 2019—around 3:30 p.m.—on a sunlit bench by the beach in L.A.

Now it’s June 30th, 2024. And still, my heart is searching. Longing. Yearning for the shelter I found in her presence—for my safe house.

For five years, I wandered like a ghost through fame and facades, haunted by a girl whose name might not even be real. A girl who entered like sunlight through a storm cloud and took the last of my heart with her.

For five years, I stayed awake at night, reliving that golden afternoon over and over—like a scratched film reel on repeat. In my mind. In my dreams. In every quiet moment between applause.

For five years, I wrote songs for someone I barely knew, someone I might have made up. A stranger with lips I could still feel. A stranger whose name might be Fedora… if that was even her real name.

For five years, I loved a stranger like she was my home.

And now—after all that time—she’s standing right in front of me.

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“It can’t be real,” I whispered aloud, frozen in place as a familiar silhouette drifted past the mirror in the dressing room.

I was supposed to be prepping for a new movie photoshoot. Lights. Makeup.

People swarming like bees. But in that moment, all of it blurred—reduced to background noise. The only thing in focus was her.

Not now, I thought. Not like this. Please, not now.

“Yes, right now.” My mind roared back.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I shot up from the chair, makeup half-finished, and stormed toward the door. My makeup artist called after me, confused, but her voice faded into static. I was locked in on a single frequency—and it was her.

Everything else vanished.

________________________________________

“Soo Yeon! Where are you going?” Manager Kim’s voice echoed as I left the dressing room in a rush.

I could hear footsteps trailing me—Kim, my assistant, probably even Jerry, my nosy stylist—but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. They could call me unprofessional, dramatic, and even crazy. But I knew what I saw. And I had already spent five years wondering what if.

Let them chase. I was chasing something else entirely.

Even the towering halls of June K Hotel—the crown jewel of South Korean luxury—felt small in that moment. I wasn't walking through gold-laced corridors. I was sprinting through memories, through hope, through every daydream I had ever dared to believe in.

Then I heard it.

That voice.

Soft. Familiar. Liquid gold.

“You know I never got to enjoy my holidays because of you,” she said, laughing.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Come on, don’t bitch about it. You had fun, didn’t you?” another voice replied.

I turned the corner and saw two figures near the lounge. My breath caught. I stepped forward, trembling, reaching for the shoulder I remembered so well—

And then pain.

A strong hand gripped me and twisted me around, slamming me down in one swift motion. My face met cold marble. My back screamed.

What the—?

Was she always this strong?

“Hey—hey!” I gasped, squirming. I could hear gasps from my team behind me as they ran to help, but I raised a hand to stop them.

I knew this touch. This strength.

“Dora, it’s me! Soo Yeon—Yeong Soo Yeon. From the bench… on the beach in L.A.”

The grip loosened. Slowly.

I exhaled shakily and stood up, brushing myself off with a sheepish grin.

She stood in front of me—an eclipse of everything else around us.

She looked just the same.

Plush lips, soft waves of hair cascading like silk, and those eyes—light green with halos of gold, like sunfire trapped in glass. And her voice... God. That voice. It rippled through me, rewiring my insides.

“It’s me,” I said again, quietly this time. A prayer.

She tilted her head, like a curious cat. Her eyes narrowed, then lit with recognition.

“Ohh… I remember you now.” She smiled. “Hi. Hello!”

She reached out and gently brushed imaginary dust off my shoulder. A small gesture. But to me, it was a storm of feeling.

The world stilled.

No crowds. No flashing lights. Just her.

She was the only color in a grayscale world.

“We have to go,” someone called behind her. “Dora, if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”

The word late dragged her back to the present. Our eye contact broke.

She turned toward the exit.

No. Not again. Not like last time.

“Will I ever see you again?” I called after her, desperation cracking my voice. I took a single step forward. My throat tightened. My eyes burned.

She paused.

Turned.

Two steps back. Closer.

And then—her lips met mine.

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The kiss was soft, brief, but held centuries of longing.

My eyes fluttered closed. My heart stopped and soared at the same time.

She smelled like summer. Ocean breeze, cotton candy, and warmth. Pure warmth.

She pulled back too soon.

But her touch lingered like an echo on my lips.

“If we’re fated to be,” she whispered, “you’ll find me again.”

She smiled—one of those soft, knowing smiles that live forever in the mind—and walked away.

________________________________________

I stood frozen.

One hand gently pressed against my mouth.

Was a kiss supposed to feel like that? Like lightning striking your lungs? Like breathing for the first time after being underwater?

She was gone.

But the world was different now. Charged.

I wanted her more than ever.

After five years, I finally understood.

That ache I carried? That yearning?

It was love. Real, reckless, unfinished love.

Meeting her again gave me closure—but also tore something open.

I had just found her.

And I had already lost her again.

“Not again,” I said aloud, voice trembling.

Behind me, the corridor buzzed with whispers and chaos.

But I didn’t care.

I stood in the center of it all, smiling like a fool, heart racing, lips still tingling.

Even if I never saw her again—

This moment was mine.