July 2022
Vancouver, Canada
The morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, painting the living room in soft gold. The scent of warm ginger tea lingered in the air—comforting and familiar. Lexie sat curled on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her mom hummed gently in the kitchen while Ethan napped soundly on the recliner, clutching his favorite plush dinosaur. His breathing was calm now—normal. His cheeks were finally beginning to regain their color.
He was home. Finally.
The past week had been the longest stretch of Lexie's life. Endless hospital corridors. Beeping monitors. Sleepless nights. Quiet panic.
Now, things were calm—but not quite quiet in her heart.
She didn't realize she had dozed off until her phone buzzed on her lap. Squinting at the screen, she saw the name flash:
Matthew Lee💙👬
Can I call?
Sure
"Hey," she answered softly, voice still heavy from the nap.
"You sound beat," Matthew said, concern tucked behind a warm chuckle. "But better?"
Lexie nodded, her eyes drifting to her son. "We just got home this morning. He's okay now—tired, but stable. The doctors said we got to it early. Mattie, I've never been more scared."
"I'm really glad he's alright," he said gently. "You've been so strong, Lex."
There was a pause—gentle but weighty.
"I hate to bring this up now," Matthew added, "but the Song Camp starts in two days. Have you thought about when you'll be flying back?"
Lexie glanced at the wall calendar and sighed. She had barely noticed how time had slipped past her.
"I'll take the red-eye tomorrow night," she replied quietly. "I want to be there when it starts."
"You sure?" he asked, tone cautious. "You could let them know you need more time—"
"I promised I'd be there. I'll go." She rubbed her temple. "I just needed to be here first."
Matthew didn't push further. "Alright. I'll arrange your airport ride. Just send me the flight details."
She hesitated, her voice dropping a notch. "Has Mark been asking?"
There was a long pause before Matthew answered, "Yeah... Every day, actually. He's been checking in with me constantly. I haven't told him anything beyond what you allowed. He doesn't know about Ethan—only that something important came up and that you're handling it."
Lexie closed her eyes. "Thank you. Please don't tell him anything else... not yet."
"He did ask if he could help," Matthew added. "But I told him it's not my story to share."
A soft breath escaped her lips. "That sounds like him."
"And Lex," Matthew said gently, "You don't owe anyone an explanation until you're ready. Not even him."
"I know," she whispered. "But I don't want to disappear on him again."
A few more seconds of silence passed before she said, "If he asks again, you can tell him I'm coming back."
"Got it," he replied. "And... I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, Mattie."
They hung up.
Lexie remained on the couch, watching Ethan as his chest slowly rose and fell. She reached over, brushing his fringe off his forehead. He stirred slightly, his small hand grasping her finger with sleepy instinct.
She smiled softly.
Later that night, as she zipped up her suitcase, Ethan entered the room dragging his tiny dinosaur bag behind him.
"Are we going back to the sky again, Mama?"
Lexie knelt beside him. "No, baby. Just Mama this time. Mama's work just started not long ago, love. But I'll call you every day, okay?"
He frowned. "But I just got better..."
"I know. I don't want to leave either. But I'll be back soon. I promise," her heart twisted. "If you really miss Mama, you ask Lola or any of your Titos to call Mama anytime. You'll always be Mama's priority, love."
He looked at her, eyes searching. "Promise-promise?"
"Promise-promise," she said, wrapping him into a warm hug. "Cross my heart."
As she rocked him gently, she didn't notice the single tear that slipped down her cheek.
Tomorrow, she'd fly back.
To the city where music waited.
To the people who didn't know her full story.
To the boy she once knew, now a man who never stopped waiting.
But for now—this moment, this stillness—was all hers.
* * *
The city lights shimmered beneath the plane as it touched down at Incheon, the hum of arrival buzzing in her ears. Lexie shifted the strap of her carry-on over her shoulder, her body moving on autopilot. Her heart, however, was miles behind—still tethered to a tiny hand waving goodbye from the doorway.
She had slept little during the flight, thoughts spiraling between Ethan's sleepy hug and Mark's unanswered messages.
It wasn't guilt exactly—more like something rawer, harder to name.
She pushed her eyelasses up her nose as she exited the terminal. The weight of Seoul's summer air pressed around her like a cloak. Still familiar. Still foreign.
"Lex?"
His voice was soft but sharp enough to cut through the quiet hum of the early morning airport crowd.
Lexie turned toward it, her suitcase trailing behind her with a tired creak. There, near the arrival gate, stood Matthew—hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes instantly locking onto hers. Relief crossed his face, but it was brief. Concern quickly took over.
"You didn't have to come," she murmured as she approached him.
"I had to."
His gaze lingered on her face, her frame, the subtle changes that wouldn't be obvious to anyone else. But he noticed. The paleness, the dark shadows under her eyes, the way her clothes hung a bit looser than before.
"You've lost weight," he said quietly, not accusatory—just... worried.
She only offered a small shrug. "There was a lot to handle."
He didn't press. Instead, he reached for her suitcase with one hand, gently guiding her with the other. "C'mon. Let's get you home first. You can sleep in before heading to the company later."
As they stepped out into the soft light of dawn, Seoul still quiet and blinking awake, Lexie exhaled—deeply. Not relief, not comfort. But something closer to acknowledgment: She was back.
Whether she was ready or not.
✦ ✦ ✦
Mark was already awake when Matthew called. He hadn't really slept—not deeply, anyway. Just a light drift that let time pass without feeling like rest.
His phone buzzed loudly against the nightstand, and he snatched it before the ringtone could finish its first note.
📞 Incoming Call: Matthew hyung 🤝
"Hyung?"
"Hey." Matthew's voice was low, quiet. "Can you hold the door open for me?"
Mark sat up. "Wait—what?"
"I'm bringing Lexie to our place," Matthew said, not even hesitating. "She's knocked out. I mean out. Slept the whole ride from the airport, hasn't moved an inch. I was supposed to take her to Mom and Dad's or her apartment, but neither's a good idea right now. She hasn't had a decent rest in days."
Mark was already out of bed, flipping the hallway light on. His heartbeat kicked up—not out of panic, but something heavier. Something that had been gnawing at him ever since he learned she left without a word.
"You're almost here?"
"Ten minutes," Matthew replied. "Can you prep the spare room quick? Just—make it feel safe. Quiet."
Mark's voice softened. "Yeah. I got it."
He hung up and stood in place for a second, heart thudding beneath his ribs.
She's back.
Not a message. Not a call. Not even a voice to match the worry he'd carried the past few days like a weight in his chest. But now she was here. Just outside his reach.
Still in her silence.
Mark moved quickly. He pulled fresh sheets from the closet, fluffed the pillows, opened the window slightly to let in the early morning breeze. The spare room had been untouched since their parents moved out. It was now mostly used for storage—or a place to crash after long nights. But tonight, it had a purpose again.
By the time he heard the familiar sound of Matthew's car pulling in, the room was ready. Simple. Soft. Safe.
Mark rushed down the steps the moment the car came to a full stop in their driveway, the early dawn still faint on the horizon. The street was quiet—just the hum of the engine cooling, the chirp of a waking bird or two.
Matthew stepped out from the driver's seat, gently closing the door behind him. He didn't speak right away. Instead, he moved to the backseat, opened it slowly, then looked over at Mark and gave a quiet nod—motioning him closer.
Mark approached, heart already thudding.
Matthew leaned slightly toward him and said under his breath, "You carry her. I'll grab her stuff."
Mark froze.
His eyes drifted inside the car, where Lexie lay curled up on the seat. Her head had fallen to one side, lips slightly parted. The overhead light cast a warm glow on her face, revealing skin that was noticeably paler than before and cheekbones that looked sharper than he remembered.
"Hyung..." Mark's voice was tight, uncertain. "What if she wakes up?"
"She won't," Matthew said softly, already reaching into the trunk. "She's completely out. Exhausted. And even if she does, she trusts you."
Mark hesitated. His fingers hovered near the car door, unsure whether to open it wider or let it close and hide her again.
"I'm not ready to face her," he whispered, more to himself than to Matthew.
Matthew paused, glanced over his shoulder. "Neither is she. But she came back, didn't she?"
That was all he said before walking off with her duffel and carry-on.
Mark let out a breath and leaned down, carefully sliding his arms underneath her—one behind her back, the other beneath her knees. Her body was light. Too light.
She stirred just faintly when he lifted her, a soft hum in her throat that didn't turn into words. Her head fell gently against his shoulder.
And just like that, she was in his arms again.
It didn't feel like a reunion.
It felt like holding a moment that had been torn away too soon—and brought back too quietly.
Mark stepped carefully inside the house, Matthew following behind.
Once Matthew was satisfied that Lexie was settled and that Mark had things under control, he gave his younger brother a nod of silent approval. No words were exchanged—just a glance, as if to say thank you and be careful. Then he quietly left the room, pulling the door almost shut behind him.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, unsure of what to do with the stillness that followed.
She lay peacefully under the covers, her breathing soft and even. But up close, the signs of exhaustion were harder to ignore—dark circles under her eyes, the slight hollowness in her cheeks, the way her shoulders remained tensed even in rest.
He leaned closer and gently moved a few strands of hair away from her face, his fingers brushing lightly against her temple. She didn't stir.
His eyes traced her features, trying to remember when he last looked at her this closely—when she still wore a childhood smile, when their worlds were small and innocent and filled with dreams of growing up together.
Now she looked so far away.
His hand moved almost instinctively, resting over hers. Her fingers were cold to the touch.
He stayed like that for a moment.
Then, just as he began to pull away—
Her hand gripped his.
Mark froze.
Her eyes didn't open, but her brows knit together, and she started mumbling—low, broken fragments between shaky breaths.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she whispered repeatedly, her voice cracking like it was fighting tears, even in sleep. "I didn't mean to leave like that..."
Mark's heart tightened. He leaned in slightly, but didn't speak—didn't dare to interrupt whatever storm she was caught in.
Then came the words that hit differently. Not for what they were, but for who they revealed.
"Ethan... love... I'm sorry for leaving..."
A pause. Her grip tightened, fingers trembling.
"I'll come back for sure..."
Mark's breath caught.
The air around him shifted, heavy with a new understanding.
He didn't know who Ethan was, but the way she said the name—with guilt, with tenderness—was enough to make the edges of his chest burn.
Still, he didn't let go.
Not yet.
He sat there, her hand in his, watching the rise and fall of her chest until the trembling passed and her body eased back into quiet sleep.
And when he finally stood, gently placing her hand back under the blanket, he took one last look at her and whispered under his breath.
"I'm sorry, too."