Quiet meals and loud shadows

The lady laughed as she wiped her hands with a napkin. "You’ve got good taste," she said, smiling warmly. “But tell you what—let’s make it fun. I’ll give you a list of dramas. Let’s see if you’ve really watched them all.”

Bo Ah tilted her head, curious. She watched as the woman scribbled a list on the back of a receipt with a borrowed pen. She handed it over, sliding it across the table like it was some kind of test.

Bo Ah scanned the list and nodded slowly as she began to mark.

While You Were Sleeping — watched.

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes — watched.

Healer — of course.

Kill Me, Heal Me — one of her favorites.

Moon Lovers — painful, but watched.

Our Beloved Summer — watched.

Uncontrollably Fond — she paused, then marked watched.

And then she saw it.

Our Happy Hour

She stopped.

Bo Ah stared at the title. Her pen hovered for a moment before she shook her head.

“No,” she said quietly. “I haven’t watched this one.”

The woman leaned back in her seat, smug. “Ha! Knew it. You can’t beat me.”

Bo Ah smiled faintly, the tiniest shrug on her shoulder. “Guess not.”

The woman’s expression softened. “That one has a sad ending. Think you can handle that?”

Bo Ah raised an eyebrow, her voice calm but firm. “Sad endings don’t bother me. It’s just fiction. Not real. Why should I cry over something that didn’t happen?”

The lady looked at her for a long moment, then gave a small, knowing smile. “Is that so? Well… watch Our Happy Hour, then. Let’s see if you still feel that way after.”

Bo Ah didn’t reply. She just nodded.

“It was nice meeting you,” the lady said as she stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “Thanks for the great conversation, Ma.” She gave a small bow.

Bo Ah blinked. “Wait—how did you…?”

“Oh, I gotta go now,” the woman said quickly with a wink. “Enjoy the drama.”

And with that, she walked out, the little bell on the restaurant door jingling gently behind her.

Bo Ah stood there for a moment, holding the receipt in her hand, still warm from the woman’s fingers.

Just then, her boss came over, a curious look on his face. “Do you two know each other?”

Bo Ah shook her head. “No. First time I met her.”

The boss turned and looked toward the door the woman had exited through. “Hmm,” he murmured. “She acted like she knew you.”

The smile she left Bo Ah with had long faded. But something about the encounter lingered in the air—like the scent of a memory just about to bloom.

Bo Ah stepped into the small apartment, tossing her delivery jacket onto the worn couch. It was quiet—comfortably so. For once, no yelling, no slamming doors. She kicked off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water before sinking into the floor with a sigh. The stillness wrapped around her like a blanket.

She liked it when no one was home. It made the world feel slower. Safer.

Exactly twenty-four minutes later, the door creaked open. Her mother stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags and a takeout container in one hand.

“Bo Ah,” her mother called out. “I brought dinner.”

Bo Ah stayed where she was. She had learned long ago not to expect much.

Her mother set the food on the table, opened it, and started eating—just one portion. Nothing for Bo Ah. She didn’t even glance her way.

Bo Ah stood quietly and began cooking something simple for herself—rice and leftover side dishes from two days ago.

“You know,” her mother started between bites, “I saw Hye So today. Isn’t she your childhood friend? I think she’s living a good life now. Drove up in a luxury car… and her boyfriend? Handsome, wealthy. A real catch.”

Bo Ah didn’t look up from the stove. “Good for her.”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Ahh, I wish she was my daughter. Can you imagine? Living in a big house, no stress, nice things every day? That would be the dream. Meanwhile—” she glanced over, “—why haven’t you gotten yourself a boyfriend yet? You should aim for a wealthy man too, Bo Ah. It’s not like you’re getting any younger.”

Bo Ah stirred the rice slowly, her voice soft but steady.

“Hye So and I were six when we met,” she began. “I always beat her in school. I was the top student. First to arrive. First to finish assignments. Back then, she used to say she wanted to be me.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

“I really thought hard work paid off.”

She turned off the stove and stood still.

“What?” her mother scoffed, frowning. “Bo Ah, how many times have I told you not to talk back when I’m speaking?”

Bo Ah clenched her jaw.

“It’s not my fault your life turned out like this,” her mother continued, waving her chopsticks in the air. “You should have been better. Tried harder. Honestly, I don’t even know what your purpose is anymore.”

Bo Ah placed her bowl down, her appetite gone. “I’ll leave now. Good night.”

Her mother scoffed. “Yah! Come back here when I’m talking to you!”

But Bo Ah had already slipped into her room, locking the door behind her. The yelling was muffled now, like distant thunder.

She collapsed onto her mattress and picked up her phone, resuming Moment With You—the only thing that made her heart feel anything.

By the time the final credits rolled, her eyes were heavy. She didn’t even realize when she fell asleep, the faint sound of the ending theme playing like a lullaby in the background.

Somewhere between sleep and silence, a tear rolled down her cheek.

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