Page 57 of From Paris to Seoul

I should be used to this by now—the packed days, the constant hustle. But this time, it felt different.

I haven’t told Seo-yeon yet.

Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m not ready to see that look in her eyes—the same one from last time, when we said our goodbyes in Paris. And selfishly, I’m not ready to let her go.

Byung-ho kept talking about the production team, the co-stars, the early script revisions. I nodded along, responding at the right moments, but my mind was elsewhere.

I should tell Seo-yeon soon. I knew that.

The thought lingered as the session wrapped up. The director gave a few final notes, my co-star stretched with a tired sigh, flashing a small smile before gathering her things.

Byung-ho was already on his phone, coordinating my next gig, but I barely registered the conversation.

By the time we stepped outside, the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows on the pavement. The city buzzed with early evening energy—cars honking, voices overlapping, people rushing home or heading out for the night.

I drove back home in silence, my fingers tapping absently against the wheel.

When I pulled up near my house, I caught a glimpse of Mom inside the restaurant. She was wiping down the counters, her movements slow, almost absentminded.

The place was quiet. Too quiet. It was sad to see the restaurant so empty at peak dinner hour.

I let out a slow breath and pushed the door open.

“Mom.”

She looked up, her face still creased with focus from her task, but it brightened slightly when she saw me. “You’re done with work for the day?”

I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Something like that.”

She set the rag down and sighed, hesitating for a moment before meeting my gaze. “Baekhyun, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She looked serious, so I straightened, bracing myself. Better to let her speak first before mentioning my six-month shoot in Japan.

She smoothed a hand over the counter, her gaze distant. “I think it’s time to close the restaurant.”

The words were quiet, almost casual, but they hit like a punch I didn’t see coming. This place is more than just a business—it’s home. The backdrop of Ye-bin’s and my childhood. The place where I used to help out as a server or dishwasher to earn pocket money. Where Ye-bin grows up, filling its walls with laughter and memories.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. She continued before I could find the words.

“It’s not profitable anymore,” she said gently. “And honestly, I think it’s time. Your aunt offered me a place in her village. It’s quieter there, and I can help out at her orchard.”

I frowned. “What about the house?”

She let out a small huff. “Well, you and Ye-bin could still live here, but it’d be a little weird having someone else running a business downstairs. Or we could rent out the whole place—it’d easily cover the cost of a new place for you and Ye-bin in Seoul.”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to do this. I can—”

“Baekhyun.” Her voice was firm, yet gentle. “You’ve done enough. More than enough. You took care of us when you shouldn’t have had to. But now… Ye-bin is growing up. And I’m ready for a new start.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at her words—at the acknowledgment I hadn’t even realized I needed.

When I didn’t respond, she reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m proud of you. And I’ll pay you back for everything.”

I scoffed. “You know I won’t take it.”

She laughed softly. “I figured.”

I swallowed, nodding as I tried to process it all.

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