Prologue
There are things we can never escape, even the small storms that come between lovers. Quarrels are born when love begins to doubt, and trust fades like heated sunlight, after the nice, cool rain.
That's what happened to us, to me and Ricko.
Part I — The Quarrel
"Feronne, how many times do I have to tell you that she's married! She's married! And you have nothing to be jealous of!"
His voice cut through the air like glass breaking. It was the first time I had seen him shout at me like that; the first time I saw a version of him I didn't recognize.
"You hugged her! I saw you!" I shouted back, my voice trembling."You hugged each other! Your touches, your eyes; there was something in them!"
"Feronne," he said, trying to breathe, "She lost her husband. Do you even know what it's like to lose someone you love?"
"Then why hug her right in front of me?!" My chest tightened with every word."How many times have I held back my feelings? How many times have I ignored the pain just to protect what we have?"
He looked away, his eyes colder than the night. "What would you feel if one day I'm not by your side anymore?"
"That's not what I meant!" I cried,
Sometimes I think too much. Sometimes I act like a child. But can't he see how much I'm hurting in this situation? Does he even know how this feels?
"Then stop being immature," he said flatly."It was just a comfort hug."
No. He didn't understand.
"I need space, Ricko. Let's cool off. I'm tired."
And with those words, I left. The sound of my footsteps felt like the end of everything.
In the taxi, my phone buzzed. I opened the message and my heart stopped beating.
[Let's break up.]
Seven years—gone in three words. I wanted to run back, to beg him to stay, but something inside me whispered, don't.
He doesn't deserve me. I don't deserve him. Maybe love had simply run out for us.
Part II — The Dream
It's been a year since then. I live now in my grandmother's old house, the one she left to me after she passed. It's quiet...too quiet. And sometimes, loneliness feels like a shadow that never leaves.
I told myself I needed peace. So I booked a ticket—to anywhere, hoping that maybe distance could heal what time could not.
That night, I tried to sleep. The air was heavy, the silence thick enough to touch. Outside my window, I saw a single star.
"Why only one?" I whispered.
"Feronne, I'm home," a voice called.
I froze. That voice…deep, warm, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting. I stepped out of my room, hearing the sound of footsteps echoing softly through the hall.
"Where are you?" I asked, trembling.
"In the kitchen," the voice replied.
And there he was. A man, tall and calm, cooking as if he'd lived here forever. When he turned to face me, I caught my breath.
"I missed you," he said, wrapping his arms around me. His touch was cold, but somehow comforting."W-who are you?" I whispered.
He smiled like a child caught in mischief."I'm your lover."
That smile—it felt real. And so, I let him hug me again.
Later, when we were lying beside each other, I asked softly, "Who are you, really?"
He looked at me and said, "I'm the one star you were staring at. The lonely one in the sky. You looked so sad. I wanted to see you up close."
I stared at him, my heart thudding. He was unreal yet more real than anyone I'd met.
"Hana Byeol," he said."That's my name."
"The Star," I murmured.
He nodded. "I appear in dreams. And right now, I somehow just wanna make you happy, even just for once."
He was strange. But his eyes—his eyes definitely held galaxies. When he smiled, I felt the weight in my chest melt away.
We talked for hours—about life, love, and loneliness. When he asked me if love was fun, I laughed and said, "It's fun, but it hurts. I guess I'm just bad at it."
"Then I'll show you," he said, "that love can be peaceful."
He took my hand, and the world shifted. Suddenly, we stood inside my favorite restaurant, the one from our first anniversary—mine and Ricko's.
"How do you know this place?" I asked.
"I'm a star," he said, smiling."I know the places that your heart remembers."
He ordered my favorite food, and when I asked why he came to me, he looked into my eyes and said,
"Because I like you."
My heart stuttered.
"You're joking," I whispered.
"I don't joke," he said. "Stars don't know how."
He smiled sadly. "I don't exist, Feronne. When you wake up, you'll forget me."
Tears filled my eyes. "Then let's make it real," I said.
He shook his head. "I can't. But I do want to love you even if it's just in a dream."
Later, he brought me to the top of a building. The city lights flickered below us. He showed me a necklace—one small star trapped in a silver circle.
"Keep this," he said. "So you'll remember me."
I touched the pendant. "It's beautiful."
He placed it around my neck, as we sat beneath the moon. To me, in that moment, it was the only light in the sky.
"You're the brightest," I told him."Because you're right beside me."
He smiled, his eyes soft and shining.
"I like you too."
We both knew it couldn't last. "I want to see you again," I said, crying.
"Just look at the lonely star in the sky," he whispered."That's me."
And as my dream began to fade, he held me close one last time.
"If things don't work out, live happily," he said."Please, live and be happy." And then he was gone.
Part III — The Healing
I woke up to the sound of my alarm. 7:30 a.m. The sunlight spilled through the window like a quiet promise.
My eyes were puffy, my heart strangely light. The pain I'd carried for years felt softer, as if someone had taken half of it away in one night.
I packed my bags and left. No tears, no anger. Just a strange peace.
At the hotel, I bumped into someone in the lobby. Books scattered on the floor, and as I bent to help, I saw it—a necklace. A silver circle with a single star inside.
My breath hitched.
"Are you done staring at my necklace?" he said, amused.
I froze. His voice—his smile—those eyes. Twinkling, just like before.
"It's okay, Ms. Feronne," he said."I'm glad I met you again. But this time…"
He smiled gently.
"This time, it's real."
Epilogue
What if dreams didn't end after we've woken up?
What if they could find their way into our lives--quietly, patiently.
Maybe love is like that, too.
Sometimes ending,
Losing itself in darkness.
But not really gone.
Just waiting to return as light.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading I Dreamt.
It began as sorrow and ended as hope.
Inspired by EXO's She's Dreaming,
This story is for anyone who's ever loved, lost, and learned to begin again.
— @sstfar ✨
Start: March 2022
End: April 19, 2022
Revised: June 29, 2023
October 10, 2025