Page 65 of From Paris to Seoul

“Mom, please.” Yae-rin shot back, her tone just as sharp. “You always push her around.”

The argument spiraled from there. Voices grew louder, my dad tried to step in, his tone suddenly firm but calm. “Enough,” he said, his voice carrying weight. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

My mom refused to back down. “This isn’t about me pushing her—”

And then I snapped.

I shot up from my seat, tears welling in my eyes, and stormed to my room. I yanked my suitcase out of the closet and began throwing clothes into it without thinking. I wasn’t even paying attention to what I was packing; I just needed to do something—anything—to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

A few minutes later, Yae-rin appeared in my doorway, arms crossed. “So that’s it? You’re just going to run away again?”

I zipped up my bag, my heart still pounding. “I’m not running.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Aren’t you?”

I hesitated, gripping the handle of my suitcase a little tighter. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Yae-rin sighed, stepping into the room. “Have you even thought this through?”

I sat down on the edge of my bed, suddenly feeling drained. “I have,” I muttered. “Kind of. I’m going to join him. In Japan.”

She paused, her expression softening slightly. “So, you’re leaving.”

I nodded, my voice faltering just a little. “I don’t want to keep living like this. I need to break free, to be independent. I can’t let people decide what to do with my life anymore.”

Yae-rin sat beside me, her tone quieter now. “Look, I don’t know if this is the right decision or not. But if you really want to go, then go. Live your life. You’ve always been the one chasing after your dreams.”

I looked at her, a little surprised. “And you?”

She shrugged, her voice distant. “I don’t know. I just… never questioned anything. Stayed here. Worked for the family company. Did what I was supposed to do.”

There was a quiet sadness in her voice that I hadn’t heard before, a vulnerability she hadn’t shown in years. For the first time in my life, I realized Yae-rin might have envied me just as much as I had envied her.

I reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly. “You know, it’s not too late for you, too.”

Yae-rin raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on me for a moment, before she gave a small nod and a small smile. “Yeah, well. Maybe one day.”

I nodded, exhaling deeply. “So… you’re not mad at me?”

“No.” She nudged me playfully. “Just don’t come crying to me if you hate it there.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in a while. “Deal.”

***

A few days have passed since I moved into our shared apartment in Fukuoka, and to be completely honest, it’s been harder than I expected.

First of all, the apartment itself isn’t that big—it’s really meant for just one person. It only has one bedroom, with a small kitchen and living room combined into a single space. It’s also a bit outside the city center, but conveniently close to the temporary studio where Baekhyun is filming his drama.

Secondly, everything is difficult when you don’t speak the language. Simple things—like buying groceries or asking for directions—feel nearly impossible. Visiting a foreign country as a tourist is one thing, but actually living here is a whole different challenge. There are things I have to deal with that travelers don’t—like securing a visa, getting a transportation pass, and setting up a local phone number.

Still, I give myself time to settle in, doing my best to embrace the slower pace of life. When I’m not practicing piano in our apartment, I spend time outdoors, taking long walks through the park alone while Baekhyun is out filming all day. The silence is unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

It’s not easy for him either. His schedule is so packed that he’s barely home, often leaving early in the morning and returning close to midnight. He only gets a few breaks on Sundays, but he tells me he’s enjoying shooting the action scenes, and that the good vibes from his colleagues and the drama crew make things easier.

So far, no one knows about this arrangement except for Byung-ho, Baekhyun’s manager.

My parents call non-stop. But instead of answering and arguing with them, I just send a short text:“Don’t worry about me. I’m doing well.”

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