"What? No? You're kidding, right? Right?"

A silence settled between us, heavier than any canvas I’d ever lifted. Y/n—no, Esmé—looked at me with eyes that now held a thousand untold stories.

The feeling of letting your own world shatter before you sank in me whenever whatever I built only seemed to build anew.

“I wish I were kidding, Kook. But it’s true. Dr. Shane Albertson and Prof. Lee Ju Gyeong has only one child. I am that child. Ju Gyeong is my mother.”

A rush of disbelief, confusion, and realization hit me. “But how? I mean, all this time, the dreams...”

Esmé, no, my Y/n nodded. “It’s strange, isn’t it? But I never knew Mai. My mother left Korea long before I was born, and she never spoke much about her past. She told me that she had a mother, but they never saw each other again after she left. I grew up knowing I had a grandmother, but I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

I took a deep breath, trying to process this revelation. “So, you’ve never dreamt about them? You never knew any of this?”

“No,” Esmé said softly. “All I have are vague stories and a few old photographs. My mother died years ago, and I never had the chance to ask her more.”

I looked at her, feeling a strange mix of emotions. “Love, do you realize what this means? All those dreams, all those people—they’re real. Your family is real. Mai is real.”

"Though we just met, I must confess,
With you, I sense a boundless quest.
You'll be my undoing, my heart's great test,
My fiercest rival, yet I feel blessed." The words of a very known poem flowed through lips and my veins.

I know it. I know now. I didn't feel Mai on me, I have felt Y/n. I haven't touched Mai, I have touched Y/n. I never spoke to Mai, the voice had always belonged to Y/n. And the face that I yearned to see, blessed me with the view long before I knew.

"In your eyes, a storm I see,
A force of nature, wild and free.
You captivate, you mesmerize,
A fleeting glance, and my soul complies." Her voice now sang. Mai's words sang.

"For now, we're caught in passion's fire,
Our spirits dance, our hearts conspire." My voice felt hoarse when sang the words I had by heart. "Though the future holds uncertainty, In this moment, it's just you and me."

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I know. And I don’t know how to feel about it. It’s like finding a piece of myself I never knew was missing.”

I reached out and held her hand. “Then let’s find out together. Let’s uncover the story of your family.”

"Am I ready to do it?" She squeezed my hand back, the weight of our shared dreams and newfound reality binding us closer. “Together?”

“Esmé,” I began, “if your grandmother is still alive, we need to find her. She needs to know about you, about everything. Also, why did I never correlate your name before?”

"That is the one question I should ask. But how? Where do we even start? And, if it will only even work.”

I thought for a moment. “Your mother must have left some clues. Letters, documents, anything that could help us trace her steps.”

Her eyes dimmed down. "There's nothing that she left, Kook. She's gone for about 10 years now. All I have are address less letters. And a photograph.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start,” I said with determination. “We’ll go through everything and piece together the story. We’ll find Mai. What photograph, by the way?"

Her eyes softened as she reached into her bag and pulled out an old, faded black and white photograph. She handed it to me carefully, as if it were a fragile piece of her past.

"I have a photograph of my parents with me and this one in my wallet." Our hands brushed as I took the photograph from her.

I examined the photograph closely, feeling the weight of years and memories embedded in its worn edges. Ju Gyeong, her mother, sat to the right of an elderly man whose lined face and wise eyes spoke of countless stories untold. That is Hyung, I know. Ju Gyeong, a teenager at the time, or maybe just in her twenties, had a hopeful yet melancholy expression, as if caught between the innocence of youth and the burdens of unspoken secrets. But she was happy.

To the old man's left was a little girl, several years younger than Ju Gyeong, her small hands cradling a baby with a tenderness that belied her age. Her eyes, wide and curious, seemed to hold a thousand questions about the world she was just beginning to understand. She was Aein.

Seated next to Ju Gyeong was a woman who must be Mai. No, she doesn't really look how I thought she would. A sharp scar remained on her forehead. That was the first thing I noticed. Her presence radiated a quiet strength and an enduring sorrow, her gaze both tender and distant, as if she were looking beyond the present into a past filled with both joy and regret. Was she the Mai I knew?

The background, adorned with delicate flowers, seemed almost alive, whispering stories of celebrations and farewells. The women wore long, flowy dresses with collars, their attire evoking a sense of timeless elegance and grace. Hyung's suit, meticulously pressed, suggested a dignity and formality of a bygone era. The sofa they were seated on, with its intricate patterns and slightly worn fabric, must have once been a shade of dusty pink, adding a touch of faded grandeur to the scene.

Every inch of the photograph seemed to pulse with life, each face and detail a thread in the intricate tapestry of heritage. Holding it, I could almost hear the echoes of laughter, whispers of secrets, and murmurs of love and loss that had once filled the room where this picture was taken. It was a tangible piece of the past, a bridge connecting her to the family she had never known, and to the stories that had shaped her life.

She smiled, a mixture of hope and apprehension in her expression. “I never imagined one art project, one art exam would lead to this.”

“Life is art, love. And sometimes, the most unexpected strokes create the most beautiful pictures.”

We spent the rest of the day at the exhibition, our hearts and minds racing with the new purpose. Every canvas seemed to tell a story, not just of dreams and imagination, but of real people, real connections. And I was starting to get overwhelmed.

To know that Mai is real, is a huge task in itself. To find her is a larger task. But the only question that lingered, how do I know who the hell they were? As long as they were just a fragment of my imagination, they were supposed to mean nothing. But if they're all real then was I really who I think?

As the event drew to a close, we packed up our stall, our excitement tempered by the enormity of the journey ahead. With the help of our friends, we loaded the canvases back into the car, the air buzzing with anticipation.

I hadn't told anyone about this but it was impossible for me to contain this anymore. Neither Antonella nor Jimin where present when I really needed them to listen.

We had cells but the network was poor in most parts of South Korea. Landlines where strong but I had no idea where to call.

There was so much that I feel. And there was so little I could tell.

Why? Why, Mai, Why?

I thought you left me, Mai, but you only came back with a devastating revelation. You only came back to give what I didn't ask for, things I no more needed to know. Stories I didn't need to find out. Realities I wasn't ready for.

And that moment, I am doing nothing but blabbering.

I sat down. I must have something. Then I remembered that Antonella had a pager that she always kept with herself. I should try paging her.

Immediately, I ransacked my entire chest of drawers. I definitely had a pager somewhere, right?

"Why do I never get the right thing?!" Frustration peaked when I found my pager. Thank God I found it.

"Dear Noona,
Can you please cut your trip short and come back? I need you."

As I sat there wondering what else I should write, I decided I should also text Jimin.

"Mai is real. Mai actually exists. Please come back soon."

Throwing the pager away, I lay flat on my bed. I am not who I think, right? I can not be that, right? I can not be him, right? Right?