After meeting Jay Park, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—happiness danced with sadness, creating a storm I couldn't easily navigate. Was I truly lucky to have landed my dream job, or was I selfish for leaving behind the familiar comfort of my old life, with all its cherished memories and the people who had become my anchors?

Coming back to Seoul felt like reopening an old wound. The streets, the smells, and the very air carried whispers of a past I had tried so hard to leave behind. Each night, when I close my eyes, the same haunting dreams resurface, wrapping around me like shadows. They pull me back to places I thought I had escaped, to moments etched deeply into my heart—some tender, some too painful to bear.

But amidst the turmoil, I remind myself to be grateful. I am grateful for the sheer chance of being alive, for the opportunities that lie ahead like faint glimmers of light in the darkness. I cling to the hope that, with time, I will learn to embrace the future without losing the pieces of myself rooted in the past. For now, my heart remains a mosaic of conflicting emotions, each shard a reflection of my journey.

What about the storm within—the chaos that rages when no one else can see? What about the restless thoughts that spiral endlessly, louder than any voice of reason? The pain echoes, not just through the silent moments, but in the spaces between heartbeats, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Who will be there to offer the kind of hug that doesn't just touch the body but anchors the soul? The kind of embrace that makes the world stand still, where the weight of your burdens feels just a little lighter, where you can finally exhale after holding it all in for too long.

They say people cross your path for a reason, that the universe conspires to bring you the one who is meant to stay. But how will I know? How will I recognize the one who will look into my chaos and not turn away? The one who will see the storm and choose to walk through it with me, hand in hand? The one who will understand my pain, wipe away my tears when words become impossible, and sit with me in silence without trying to fix what can't be fixed.

I want to believe that such a soul exists, that someone will come who doesn't just see me but feels me, down to the deepest parts I don't show to anyone. But the question haunts me, lingering in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of loneliness feels unbearable: How will I know? As I search for solace amid the uncertainty, I can only hope that when the time comes, my heart will recognize its anchor, my storm will find its calm, and the echoing pain will be met with a love that doesn't falter.

I remember my trainee days vividly, a time filled with uncertainty, growth, and the thrill of new beginnings. But amidst all the chaos, one person truly stood out—a guy who became my rock in those challenging moments. He had this unwavering kindness, always showing up with a reassuring smile, as if he knew exactly when I needed someone to lean on.

He didn't just help; he went above and beyond, often doing things for me that I never even had the courage to ask for. He believed in me when I doubted myself and celebrated my small victories as if they were his own. His support felt like a lighthouse in the storm, guiding me when I felt lost and overwhelmed.

Even now, I can't help but think about him. I wonder if he's still the same—selfless, compassionate, and full of quiet strength. I hope life has been kind to him because he deserves nothing less. There's a part of me that wishes I could tell him how much his presence meant to me, and how he shaped the person I am today. He was more than a colleague; he was a friend, a mentor, and a reminder of the goodness in people.

They say the most important person often shows up just when you need them the most, and for me, it was him. He appeared in my life at a time when I felt lost, unsure of my abilities, and desperate for a sense of direction. Back then, I convinced myself it was just admiration, maybe a fleeting crush—something I could brush aside, bury under the weight of my responsibilities.

But now, as his memory resurfaces—his easy laughter, the way he instinctively understood my unspoken worries—I realize it was more. It wasn't just a crush; it was a quiet yearning, a connection I never dared to explore. I had hidden those feelings, knowing he belonged to someone else. He was in a relationship then, happy and content, and I respected that. I told myself it was enough to have him as a friend, to feel his kindness and support without asking for more.

And yet, I can't help but wonder about him now. Is he married, living the life he dreamed of, surrounded by happiness and love? Has he forgotten those moments we shared, the laughter, the talks, and the silent understanding that came so effortlessly between us? I tell myself I'm happy for him, wherever he is, but a part of me still aches with the thought of what could have been, if only the timing had been different.

Sometimes, it's better to keep your feelings buried, to protect something even more precious—the friendship that meant the world. He was one of the rare souls who truly saw me, and who cared in a way that felt genuine and unshakable. He stood by me when I was fighting my hardest battles, never once letting me feel alone. He believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself, lifting me up with his quiet strength and unwavering support.

He didn't just ease the weight of those moments; he made me feel like I mattered like my struggles weren't insurmountable. And for that, I'll forever be grateful.

Even if our paths never cross again, he will always hold a special place in my heart—a bittersweet corner filled with fondness, gratitude, and a longing for what might have been. I'll cherish the memory of him, not just for the person he was to me, but for the person he helped me become. Sometimes, letting go is an act of love in itself, allowing the past to remain untouched, beautiful, and perfect as it was.

With those thoughts weighing heavy, I closed my diary, my fingers lingering on the cover as if reluctant to let go of the emotions spilling onto its pages. I exhaled deeply, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing against my chest. The soft hum of my desk clock pulled my attention—it read 22:00. Time seemed to stretch and blur, much like the ache in my heart.

Outside my window, Seoul glowed with its usual vibrance, neon lights painting the skyline with brilliant hues. Yet tonight, there was something melancholic in its beauty. The lively streets seemed quieter, the flickering signs more sombre, as if the city itself carried an undertone of sadness, echoing the storm within me.

I rested my head against the cool glass, watching as the lights danced in the distance. They felt so alive, so untouchable—much like the memories I held of him. Somewhere out there, under the same shimmering lights, he was living his life, unaware of the mark he'd left on mine. And though the city pulsed with energy, tonight it felt as if Seoul was mourning with me, its brilliance cloaked in an unspoken longing.

Tomorrow, I'll meet Jay Park again to discuss the upcoming projects—a chance to step forward, to carve out a new chapter. It feels like the promise of a new beginning, an opportunity to redefine the narrative of my life. Yet, as I sit here, the past clings to me like a shadow, softly whispering its stories, reminding me of who I was and how far I've come.

Jay's energy has always been infectious, a mix of ambition and creativity that ignites something in everyone around him. I want to match that, to walk into that meeting with a clear mind and an open heart, ready to embrace whatever lies ahead. But the remnants of old emotions linger, their quiet presence tugging at the edges of my resolve.

Perhaps that's the way life works—moving forward while carrying pieces of yesterday. The key is not to let them weigh me down but to let them ground me, to remind me of the strength I've found in overcoming. Tomorrow is a new day, and with it comes the chance to take a step closer to the future I've envisioned. The past may whisper, but I'll let the promise of tomorrow speak louder.

"I miss you, Mum and Dad," I murmured softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper, carrying my heartache into the stillness of the room. My words lingered in the air, weightless yet heavy with longing, as if they might somehow find their way to them.

Closing my eyes, I let the silence of the night wrap around me like a fragile cocoon. The distant hum of the city outside faded into the background, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the bittersweet ache of memories.

In that quiet moment, it felt as though they were there with me—a fleeting presence, a warmth that flickered in the depths of my heart. The void they left behind could never truly be filled, but their love remained, a guiding light in the darkness.

As the night deepened, I let myself drift, carrying their memory with me, a silent promise that I would keep moving forward, even when the weight of missing them felt almost too much to bear.