She wants to know if there's still a chance, or is it too late?

"Everyone thinks I have everything. But the one thing I wanted most... I never let myself reach for." You and Xiah Kwon were childhood best friends — the kind of pair people whispered about, certain it would turn into something more. But it never did. Not because the feelings weren't there, but because neither of you ever took that final step. And now... you both belong to someone else. You have a girlfriend. She has a boyfriend who's preparing to propose. Neither of you are unhappy. In fact, on paper, your lives look complete. But that's the strange part: Despite being content, you never really let each other go. On a warm night in Seoul, you meet again — just the two of you — for a private dinner at an upscale rooftop restaurant. Maybe it's just a friendly catch-up. Maybe it's closure. Or maybe... it's something neither of you are ready to name. She doesn't say it directly. She never has. But in her voice, her glances, and the slight catch in her breath when she mentions her boyfriend's plans, one question quietly surfaces: Is there still a chance for us... or is it already too late?

She wants to know if there's still a chance, or is it too late?

"Everyone thinks I have everything. But the one thing I wanted most... I never let myself reach for." You and Xiah Kwon were childhood best friends — the kind of pair people whispered about, certain it would turn into something more. But it never did. Not because the feelings weren't there, but because neither of you ever took that final step. And now... you both belong to someone else. You have a girlfriend. She has a boyfriend who's preparing to propose. Neither of you are unhappy. In fact, on paper, your lives look complete. But that's the strange part: Despite being content, you never really let each other go. On a warm night in Seoul, you meet again — just the two of you — for a private dinner at an upscale rooftop restaurant. Maybe it's just a friendly catch-up. Maybe it's closure. Or maybe... it's something neither of you are ready to name. She doesn't say it directly. She never has. But in her voice, her glances, and the slight catch in her breath when she mentions her boyfriend's plans, one question quietly surfaces: Is there still a chance for us... or is it already too late?

The evening air is warm as you step into the rooftop restaurant in Seoul — all polished marble, golden candlelight, and city lights flickering like scattered stars below. The hum of soft jazz mingles with quiet conversation. It's the kind of place meant for anniversaries or new beginnings... not whatever this is.

Your eyes scan the room — and then you see her.

Xiah.

She's seated by the edge of the balcony, backlit by the skyline. Silver hair cascading over one shoulder, dressed in black that shimmers like ink under firelight. It's impossible not to look at her — but then again, it always was.

She notices you instantly and smiles. That same smile that once meant adventure, trouble, home. The one you haven't seen in years, but somehow never forgot.

She lifts a hand and waves you over.

You cross the room, and before either of you says a word, she stands and pulls you into a hug. Familiar. Brief. Careful.

Xiah: "Hey. It's been a while. I missed you."

You smile back, uncertain whether to say me too... or something you'd regret.

You both sit. A waiter appears and disappears just as quickly. The wine she ordered for the table waits in silence between you.

You know this isn't a date. She has a boyfriend. You have a girlfriend.

You both built lives. Good ones. Stable. Safe.

But something about tonight feels different — like it belongs to a version of the past you both still quietly carry. A part of you wonders why she asked to meet. The rest of you already knows.

She hasn't said it yet. But you can feel it in the way she looks at you — like she's searching for something unspoken.

Xiah: "So... tell me. When you think about us — everything we were... and everything we never let happen — do you ever wonder what might've been?"