The boarding lounge was loud, but his thoughts were louder.
Haemosu sat near the corner window of Gate 18, elbow resting against the armrest, staring blankly at the tarmac bathed in Delhi's winter dusk.
But he wasn't seeing planes.
He was seeing her, searching for her.
The Indian Woman from the bookstore—the one who made a Korean child giggle like he was home. The one who held a baby like she had once dreamed of being a mother. The one whose eyes carried a silent storm….and one single, unanswered tear with a smile on her face.
I should have talked to her!
But what if she mistook me to be of some kind of pervert!
Hey, don' forget, you are an idol! Not allowed to be seen publicly like this.
"Why do I care?"
The airport announcements rolled overhead, snapping him out of the loop.
" Korean Air flight KE330 to Incheon is now boarding from Gate 18. Passengers in Group A, please proceed…"
He sighed.
Dragging himself from the seat, he picked up his backpack. He glanced once more at the crowds-scanning faces, though he didn't admit to himself what for.
But she was gone.
No sign of her.
She had vanished into the crowd like a thought you try to hold onto in a dream.
He boarded silently, his heart weighed with the stupid kind of ache that has no right to exist.
"I don't even know her name, why I am being bothered like that!"
In the Plane-Seat 30 A, Economy Class-
The flight had just begun to breathe—cabin lights dimmed, announcements made, engines rumbling like distant thunderclouds.
Kiana found her seat in the middle of the economy cabin, besides a man who was too busy in texting to notice her presence.
(May be he is in a hurry to send the text before keeping his phone on Airplane mode. It might be important. Its good that nobody notices me.)
The cushion tilted unevenly. The recliner wouldn't move. The seatbelt latch kept slipping, refusing to click.
She tried to adjust quietly, not wanting to draw attention.
But as the fasten seatbelt sign blinked to life above her, she knew she couldn't stay there.
She signaled the cabin crew.
"Ma'am, is it uncomfortable or…?
Kiana gave a soft, apologetic smile.
"The belt won't lock. The seat's….wobbly."
The flight attendant crouched beside her, inspecting gently.
"Ah. I am really sorry about this. We'll fix it as soon as we land—but for now, this isn't safe."
She stepped away to speak onto her intercom.
Kiana felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
Not again. Not another scene.
Not another moment where the world made her feel misplaced.
In the Plane- Seat 6A, Business Class-
He dropped into his window seat with a slight thud, resting his head against the cool surface.
The seat beside him—6B—was empty. He had booked it under a false name, just to ensure no one would sit next to him.
He liked silence.
He needed space.
That was his rule.
And then—
A voice. Kind, Professional.
"Excuse me, Sir…I understand you've booked both the seats, but we have a passenger whose seat is unfortunately damaged, and the economy cabin is full."
He looked up slowly.
The stewardess was patient, hopeful.
"We are sorry to bother you like this Sir, but we don't have any other vacant seat in the business class too. Would you be willing to share your spare seat?"
He hesitated. A protest formed on his tongue.
"No, I…"—
But then something in her eyes—sincere, slightly pleading—made him nod.
"Fine," he muttered. "if it's just for 7 more hours."
"Thank you so much. We'll bring the passenger now."
The attendant returned with a softer voice towards Kiana.
"We don't have any economy seats left…but there's one space in business class. If you'd be comfortable"—
Kiana looked up, startled.
"I…I didn't pay for.."
"No charge Ma'am. It's on the airline. Please, come with me."
Haemosu turned towards the window again, not caring who it would be. May be an old man, may be a restless child. May be silence was gone for good.
And then—he heard the footsteps.
It felt like a familiar energy.
He turned his head slowly, and there she was.
Its Her.
His eyes sparkled with joy for a moment and his heart speed up a little seeing her close to him.
He couldn't help himself, as an arc of smile formed at the corner of his lips. He controlled himself and offered the seat politely to her.
For the first time in a long time, he didn't mind the silence being broken.
"I didn't think that I will see her again. Wait! Why she is so calm looking at me?
As it has been decades that somebody stranger, never gone all frenzy on meeting him as the fans always do. I think she didn't notice me. May be she is not a fan or else, she would have already shown some kind of fan affection by now.
Kiana settled into her seat, eyes scanning the soft-lit cabin, one hand still smoothing the hem of her scarf from the rush of being unexpectedly moved here.
Her gaze brushed across him—just a second of eye contact, polite, neutral.
And then…she looked away.
No spark of recognition.
No widened eyes.
No breathless gasp.
Haemosu blinked slowly.
This was rare.
People always reacted.
Even in transit, even behind hoodies, there was always that shift in their posture when they realized who he was.
But this woman—"the same one who cried while holding a stranger's baby—didn't so much as raise an eyebrow.
Part of him exhaled.
Finally.
Peace.
Another part—"a quieter, more wounded piece—flickered with something he didn't want to name."
Does she not know me? Or does she just not care?
He adjusted in his seat, unsure how to sit beside someone who felt like a question wrapped in calm.
He had no script for this.
A Gentle Attempt to Break the Ice,
He turned towards her, just enough to be noticed.
"I don't think we were formally introduced. I am Sang Hae-mosu."
Kiana glanced sideways, a soft smile barely lifting her lips.
"Kiana"
"Kiana," he repeated, testing the syllables like a quiet song.
A pause.
Then, tilting his head slightly, he added with a hint of teasing—
"You're either incredibly calm….or you truly have no idea who I am."
She met his gaze this time, like she was caught for stealing a glance at him. Steady. Warm. Almost amused.
" I do know who you are."
"Do you?"
"Sang Hae-mosu aka the heart throb of fans all over the world. Idol, Actor, Composer and Silent type."
"Ah!, he exhaled, a little thrown. "So the silence wasn't ignorance."
"No," she said, "it was courtesy."
Another pause.
"You get enough attention without me adding to the noise. I do believe in people's right to privacy. It's not like you are here to meet fans like me. You should have your Me-time, with your thoughts and you also need to rest."
"You already helped me at this critical time, I should at least have this much courtesy for you."
He laughed, caught off guard.
"It wasn't mockery—it was maturity.
She hadn't denied his fame.
She just….chose not to shrink herself in its shadow.
"Wait! You said you are a fan of me?"
"Yes, I am"
He passes a gentle smile.
(In heart he was giggling like a kid who just got appreciated for his cuteness by somebody.)
For the first time in years, someone saw him and didn't try to own a piece of him.
And that—more than any camera flash—stung and soothed at the same time.
"I think I like her."
"Not because she sees me….but because she doesn't need to."
The Window, If You Don't Mind
The stewardess had just finished setting their meal trays.
The cabin was dim now, bathed in low golden light. Outside, night had fallen fully-only patches of cloud visible through the oval pane.
Haemosu reached for his glass of water when Kiana's voice cut softly through the quiet.
"I hope I'm not being demanding…"
She paused, unsure if this was too forward.
"….but would you mind switching seats?
Just if it's not too much troublesome for you."
He looked at her, surprised by the request—not offended, just curious.
"Why?" he asked not coldly.
Kiana smiled faintly, fingers nervously tapping the edge of her seat.
"It's my first international flight. First time watching the sky from above the clouds….for this long, at least."
She looked away, embarrassed at her own simplicity.
"I just…wanted to see what it's like to float. To know what the moon looks like when no one's beneath it."
The honesty in her voice wasn't childish.
It was pure, earnest and very human.
Haemosu stared at her for a moment longer than necessary.
Not because of the request—but because of how rare it was to hear a woman ask for something without ego or charm, but with quiet reverence.
"It's yours," he said, already unbuckling.
"But only if you describe it to me after."
She blinked. A smile slipped out—gentle and surprised.
They stood, shuffled past each other in the narrow aisle space.
Now she sat by the window, palms pressed lightly to the plastic edge, eyes wide as a child's but carrying the ache of a woman who is familiar with grief.
Haemosu reclined beside her, arms folded, a smile pulling faintly at his mouth.
"So?"
"So what?"
"What do you see?"
Kiana pressed her forehead gently to the window and whispered—
"Clouds shaped like homes I've never lived in."
"And a sky that…finally doesn't ask me to belong."
He turned toward her fully then, resting his chin against his fist.
This woman…
She wasn't here to love him.
She was here to survive herself.
And somehow, that made her more unforgettable than any fan who had ever screamed his name.
The meal trays rested untouched before them, steam slowly fading into the cool cabin air.
A soft clink of cutlery echoed nearby as other passengers quietly ate.
Kiana sat still, her eyes drifting out the window again…lost in the velvet blue of the night.
The stewardess returned, smiling politely.
"Ma'am, your meal?"
Kiana hesitated, then gently shook her head.
"Would you mind taking it away? I….don't want anything right now."
The stewardess nodded and collected her tray.
Haemosu turned slightly toward her, eyebrows raised.
"You're not hungary?"
"No." she said simply.
A pause. Then he asked, half-seriously—
"Do you plan to starve in Seoul too? You do know that we will land at midnight. Not many places open by then."
She smiled softly, without turning to him.
"I don't eat meat. Or eggs."
He blinked.
"So you're ….vegetarian?"
"Strictly," she nodded. "It's cultural and personal choice too. I, generally, don't even eat things cooked outside. I prefer homemade meal."
"Wait—so no kimchi? No bibimbap with beef? No tteokbokki?"
He looked utterly lost for a moment. Then half-joked:
"How do you plan to survive in Korea, exactly with your limited food options?"
She chuckled lightly.
"There are Buddhist temples, Convenience stores. Plus I do know how to cook, so I can do that. Also, fruits are always a hit, physically and emotionally, both."
He stared at her, half-amused, half-intrigued.
"You really just…..flew across the country with that plan?"
She shrugged.
"Sometimes, surviving is more important than planning."
There was a silence that settled between them again—but this time, it wasn't heavy. It was thoughtful. Respectful.
Then he asked, quieter now:
"How long are you staying?"
"Six months…may be a year.."
"Alone?"
"Yes!"
"Do you know somebody here?"
"No!"
His fingers tensed slightly on his armrest.
"Where are you staying?"
"Company accommodation. A guesthouse near Hongdae, I think. I haven't seen it yet. They sent me the address on email. It looked….clean enough."
He nodded slowly, absorbing the pieces.
A foreign woman, alone, no local food preference. Fragile but composed. Not naïve—just ….brave in a broken kind of way.
He wanted to say: " I know someone who could help you find better food."
He wanted to offer: "There are vegetarian-friendly cafes I could show you."
He even wanted to ask: "aren't you scared?"
But the words got stuck somewhere between his public walls and private kindness.
How do I ask without making her feel small?
How do I help…without making her think I expect something in return?
He glanced at her again.
She had leaned her head against the window now, eyes still open, hands folded neatly in her lap—like someone trying not to need anything.
And that broke something inside him far more than any scream from a crowd ever could.