Strings

Episode 11: Gravity

**Mauve’s POV**

The night after the concert, in the hotel room, I replayed everything over and over—what had happened, what I had felt. His voice, the way he looked at me, the moment his eyes scanned the crowd and landed on mine. A pause. A smile. Something unspoken but electric. It was more than just eye contact—it was gravity.

And I couldn't help but recall what he had said to me during our brief moment at the meet and greet.

*"I've seen you before… in my dreams."*

Maybe he doesn’t know that I heard him.

My breath had caught when he said it—soft, more to himself than to me. But I heard it. Every syllable. And that little flicker in his eyes afterward, as if he’d realized he said something he shouldn’t have, made it all the more real.

Then he’d added, clearer this time, *"I’ll see you again soon."*

A promise? A hope? A gentle lie to make the parting sweeter?

I didn’t know.

Lisa had recorded everything on her phone, including that shared look during the performance. She hadn’t stopped teasing me.

“You looked like someone just zapped your soul,” she said, giggling, lying next to me on the hotel bed.

“Lisa, I don’t even know how I stood still when he said that to me.”

“You were glowing, Mauve. Girl, I’ve never seen someone make eye contact with a person in a crowd like that. You two had your own bubble.”

We stayed up late, looking at every detail in the video—his glance, my reaction, how he paused during the set.

And just like that, morning came.

---

We had flights to catch. Mine to India, his to South Korea.

Different directions, different worlds.

Lisa and I dragged our luggage through the hotel lobby, dressed comfortably, but my heart was far from settled.

At the airport, the terminal buzzed with departing fans and crew. As we queued to check in, Lisa nudged me hard.

“Mauve. Look.”

I turned.

And there he was.

Yun. Baseball cap pulled low, mask covering most of his face, but I could tell. His frame. His stance. The way his eyes scanned the room.

He was surrounded by two staff members, quietly moving through the crowd. But in the sea of people, his eyes found mine—again.

A tiny pause.

No words.

Just another look. Recognition. Warmth.

He dipped his head in a barely-there nod. My heart thudded. Lisa squeezed my arm.

Then, he walked past. Not rushed. Calm. Measured. Deliberate.

As he passed, I heard it—softly. *“Safe flight, Mauve.”*

My eyes widened. I didn’t know whether to respond, to chase, to scream.

Lisa gasped. “He knows your name?”

I nodded slowly, every nerve in my body lighting up.

---

**Yun’s POV**

I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

That night, after the concert, I stared at the ceiling of my hotel room for hours, reliving everything. Her presence. The way her hands trembled when we met. That second I let the words slip—*"I've seen you before in my dreams."*

What a thing to say. And yet it was true.

I didn't mean for her to hear it, but something in her face told me she had. She looked stunned, but not scared. Like she understood.

And then I told her, *"I’ll see you again soon."*

A selfish hope. I didn’t know if it would ever happen.

---

The next morning at the airport, my mind was restless.

I was flying back to Seoul, but part of me felt like I was leaving something behind. Or someone.

As we walked through the terminal, I looked up instinctively—and there she was.

Her hair tied up, eyes tired but radiant. Lisa was with her, whispering something, but Mauve looked up.

Our eyes met again.

Just like on stage.

I slowed my steps, careful not to draw attention. I nodded slightly.

She held my gaze, and that was enough. I wanted to say so much, but all I could manage, under my breath, was:

*"Safe flight, Mauve."*

I hoped she heard it. I hoped she felt it the way I meant it.

---

Back in the air, I sat by the window, watching clouds drift past like slow memories. My phone buzzed constantly with alerts—fan mentions, schedules, promo shoots. But my mind was elsewhere.

I pulled out my phone, switched to my private account—the one with no followers, no posts, no attention. Just anonymity.

I typed in the name I remembered from the fan page I had found two nights ago.

**@thepurplepulse**

There she was.

I didn’t follow. Not yet.

But I sent a request.

A message followed.

**"You heard me, didn’t you?"**

---

**Mauve’s POV**

By the time I landed in India, I was still floating.

Everything felt surreal. From the concert, to the look, to the moment at the airport. I clutched my passport and luggage like it was all that grounded me.

Back home, I changed into my scrubs and walked into the hospital as if nothing had happened. But inside, everything had changed.

Lisa had returned to her city too, but she hadn’t stopped messaging me.

“Girl. That airport moment? Iconic.”

I didn’t know how to explain it to anyone else. It wasn’t just a celebrity crush anymore. It wasn’t fantasy.

It felt like the start of something real.

That night, as I finally got a moment to myself, I opened my i********:.

**1 message request.**

From an unfamiliar ID.

My heart

skipped.

I opened it.

**"You heard me, didn’t you?"**

No name. No picture.

But I knew exactly who it was.

And I smiled.

---

**To be continued…**